Then that would make two of them.

Stella Jo was functioning on autopilot.

It was her fourth twelve-hour shift in a row, and she was running out of steam. After tossing and turning all night, picturing Van Ransom and Rock Star Barbie together, she’d barely gotten a few hours of sleep. And even then, he’d invaded her dreams.

For the past few hours, she’d preserved the miniscule amount of energy she possessed by performing her job-related tasks without talking or smiling or maintaining her usual forced demeanor. She was communicating like a cavewoman, primarily with head nods.

She took another stack of files from Dr. McLendon and handed over the ones she’d completed transcribing.

“Feeling okay, Miss Chandler?” the blonde asked before Stella walked away.

“Stella, please.” Irritated that she’d let her Van Ransom-induced exhaustion show, she painted on the widest smile she could. “Oh, yes. Just a little preoccupied is all. Lots to do before the weekend.”

The therapist sighed. “Tell me about it.” She offered Stella a sympathetic smile, and Stella noticed that the woman looked a little sad. Maybe that smile was more empathetic than sympathetic.

“You okay, Miranda?”

Quickly brightening in a way Stella suspected was forced, she nodded. “Yeah, it’s just… You know. When you live where you work, sometimes it’s like you’re always carrying it around. The stress, the pressure, the never-ending to-do list.”

Stella agreed wholeheartedly. “You live on-site also? I’m in the Homestead cabin, near the stables. I help out with the horses.”

It was the most words she’d spoken all day. The woman had the kind of eyes that made Stella feel comfortable sharing. Which wasn’t really something she did with anyone. Well anyone without four legs and a tail.

“I’m in the Wild Catter, whatever the hell that is.”

Both women chuckled. But as soon as he entered the room, Stella felt her muscles tighten, felt the tension pulling her hard enough to cause physical pain.

“Be right with you, Mr. Walker,” the doctor called over her shoulder.

“I should let you get back to work. Nice chatting with you.” Stella pushed the constricting lump down her throat and nodded her goodbye.

“Hey, you want to grab a drink sometime in the near future? Away from this place?” Miranda inquired too low for anyone else to hear.

Stella nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great actually.”

“Thank God. I don’t know how many more bottles of Merlot I can polish off alone before I have to check myself in.”

Surprisingly, Stella grinned for real this time. She had a feeling she and Miranda McLendon had a lot in common. She’d seen the attractive woman sitting alone at lunch and wondered what her story was. Looked like she was going to find out. And make a friend. Though the last friend she’d had ended up in bed with her ex-boyfriend.

She did her best to keep her eyes off of Van’s face as she moved toward him on her way out of the office.

Apparently he didn’t approve of being ignored. A warm hand encircled her wrist as she passed.

“You have dark circles under you eyes, cowgirl.” His observation was quiet but his voice was laced with inexplicable anger. “I can’t help but think they have something to do with me.”

Jerking her hand from his grasp, she whispered angrily right back at him. “That’s because you’re exceptionally arrogant and self-centered. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Walker.”

Her body heated as she stalked angrily away from him. She prayed it was just his gaze on her and that her one chance at female friendship hadn’t just witnessed that inappropriate encounter.

By the time the weekend finally arrived, Stella was still struggling to sleep peacefully for an entire night. She’d given in and dove headfirst into the murky waters of the Internet to look up Vanessa Reeves online. Sure enough, several pictures of her and Van surfaced quickly.

Front Man Proposes to High School Sweetheart On Stage was the only headline she read before she closed the screen and stopped herself from falling any further into her personal pit of pathetic.

“Christ, you look like hell.” Jesse Ramirez wore pure concern on his handsome face when she walked into the stables.

“People sure are honest around here,” she noted.

Jesse shook his head and shooed her out of the barn. “Go. Take a long bath. Get some rest.”

Unable to arouse the enthusiasm needed to make a decent argument, she thanked him and made her way back to her cabin. But even after a long, hot bath, she didn’t feel tired. She felt…restless.

She’d chatted with Miranda a few more times in passing at work. It was Friday night, about time she took the woman up on her offer to go out for drinks. She wanted to get as far from SCR as she could, give herself some space and time to get past what Van had probably already forgotten.

After she’d texted Miranda and made plans, she put on a short, black lace dress that hugged her just enough to give her a little of her sexy back. She let her hair air dry, tired of constantly straightening it for work. The tousled look fit her restless mood better anyway. After a quick attempt at a smoky eye and some mascara, she intentionally skipped applying lipgloss, knowing she’d just smear it off on the glasses of wine she planned to consume. After sliding on a black leather jacket, she stepped into her black stilettos. Strangely, they were much more comfortable when she knew she was heading out for a night of female bonding instead of off to work.

“Well, damn. Now I feel frumpy,” Miranda said as Stella walked out her front door. “Are we going to drink and hang out or are we trying to get laid? You have to clarify these things up front so I can dress appropriately.”

Stella laughed as she locked her door. “Let’s see where the night takes us. You were right about living where you work. I need a night out. Badly.”

Despite her comment, Stella noticed that the other woman looked gorgeous. She was one of those naturally fresh-faced women who didn’t need much of anything to be stunning. A burgundy, blousy belted shirt and some skinny jeans made her look like a runway model.

“You, my friend, are anything but frumpy,” she told her as they got into the doctor’s car.

Surprisingly, the Roadhouse Bar & Grille wasn’t far from SCR. After a drive in which they mostly discussed their respective musical preferences, they arrived in a gravel parking lot.

“I think we’re both overdressed,” Stella said as they climbed concrete cinderblock steps to the bar’s entrance.

“Eh. You’ll see.” Miranda held the door, her bright blue eyes shining in the neon lights on the front.

Stepping inside, Stella saw a packed bar, a few booths, some scattered tables, and several men playing pool. It had kind of a laid-back vibe but a couple clusters of women were dressed to the nines as if they expected to meet their future husbands here. Some were more casual, like Miranda. While a handful had on jeans and tank tops—similar to what Stella wore to take care of the horses. She even spotted a few wearing boots and plaid like most of the men.

“This place is a meat market,” Miranda informed her with an eye roll. “But they have the best barbecue nachos in the universe. And a decent wine list.”

Stella wasn’t entirely sure what a meat market was, though asking seemed like an obnoxiously naïve move so she didn’t. But as they polished off a mile-high pile of nachos and a bottle of Chianti, she began to figure it out.

People came here mostly to hook up. The later it got, the more people began pairing off. One particular couple, a raven-haired woman in a business suit and a tatted- up cowboy who was buff enough to be one of those cage fighter guys, caught her attention and sent a painful thrumming through her head. The woman had a hand firmly on his ass as they exited the bar.