Apparently opposites did attract. She couldn’t deny that. She’d experienced it for herself. Was still experiencing it, if she were being honest with herself.

“So are we going to talk about you and the infamous Mr. Walker or…” The blonde grinned at her from across their back-corner table.

“Oh God.” Stella rubbed her forehead and tried not to die of humiliation. “Caught that, did you?” She grimaced at her companion’s amused expression.

“Well, I have eyes, you know.” Leaning in closer, Miranda sipped her wine. “Look, I’m not judging. And obviously I can’t really say much about him other than be careful.”

Stella sipped her own wine—drained the rest of the glass, actually—and nodded. Glancing around to make sure no one else from work was there, she paused to choose her words carefully. Miranda seemed nice enough, but in Stella’s previous experience, trusting people hadn’t always turned out so well.

“We haven’t… I mean, it’s not like we’ve actually done what it probably seems like we have.” Shit. Now she just sounded stupid. Like a teenage girl denying high school rumors. She sighed. “We aren’t sleeping together. It never got that far. There’s something about him, though… Something that scrambles my brain and throws me completely off balance. But I don’t want to lose my job, you know?”

The woman nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to accost you or anything. It’s truly none of my business.”

“No,” Stella said, shaking her head. “I didn’t think you were accosting me. Honestly, if you know a way to shut down your hormones and ignore an extremely enticing man with the intensity of a herd of raging bulls, I’d love to hear it.”

A male voice with a deep Southern twang interrupted their conversation. “Ladies, can I get you a refill?”

Stella looked up at the tall stranger in tight jeans and a cowboy hat.

“We’re good, handsome. But thanks. Enjoy your evening,” Miranda said with a wink, giving him the most polite brush-off Stella had ever heard.

The stranger tipped his hat and continued on his way to the bar.

“That was pretty smooth,” Stella said with admiration. She’d never been able to handle situations like that very well. Typically she stammered and stuttered until the guy either got bored and walked away or forced a drink she didn’t want into her hand.

“Yeah, well. I’m a therapist. You give a compliment with the rejection and it doesn’t sting as much.”

“I feel like there is much to learn from you, wise one,” Stella said, only half joking.

“Yes, young grasshopper. Watch and learn. Although, in hindsight, maybe I should’ve let him buy us another bottle.”

Both women giggled as they eyed the now empty bottle of wine.

“Would you be totally disgusted if I licked the plate?” Stella nodded to the sweet and spicy barbecue sauce remaining on the plate.

Her friend laughed. “That should take care of any more unwanted male attention.” She glanced around. “Nah, it’d actually probably send some of them right on over.”

“Yeah right.” Stella wiped her mouth and hands with her napkin and sighed. “So you already know I’m lusting after a man I can’t have. What’s your story?”

At that, the consistently even-keeled woman’s eyes went wide. “Oh, you don’t want to know.” She waved her hand between them, but Stella could tell that the nonchalance was feigned. She’d perfected that very same act herself.

“Sure I do. But only if you want to share. I know we don’t know each other very well, but the only ears I’d be in danger of repeating your story to are firmly attached to a thousand-pound horse named Shadowdancer.”

“Shadowdancer?”

“He’s my therapist,” Stella informed her without cracking a smile.

“Ah.” Miranda took a deep breath. “Well, since I’m guessing Shadowdancer is a pretty good confidant, I can tell you that once upon a time I was very young, and very stupid.”

“Weren’t we all?” Stella said softly. Due to her new friend’s profession and her guarded demeanor, she suspected that Miranda typically did more listening than talking. She felt honored that the woman was opening up to her.

“Oh, I was exceptional at it.” The woman’s silky blond hair swayed gently as she shook her head. “Travis Clanton was a bull rider, and a damn good one. Even in high school, he was let onto a professional circuit. I would’ve followed that boy anywhere.”

“Was he cute?”

“Good God, he was sex personified.” Miranda’s ivory cheeks pinked. “But you know, boys like that…”

Again, Stella felt like the Queen of Naïveland.

“Have trouble staying faithful,” she finished for her edification. “But that wasn’t even the problem.”

Stella couldn’t imagine how that wouldn’t be a problem. It would always be a deal breaker for her.

The dreamy light faded from Miranda’s clear blue eyes as they clouded over. “He got hurt. Badly. Several times. But he was young, and his family needed the money. So he started taking painkillers so that he could keep riding.”

Stella felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs by a high-powered vacuum. “Oh,” she breathed out.

“Yeah.” Moisture began to well in the woman’s eyes. “So I made him choose. The pills, the girls, the booze, and the bulls…or me.” She shrugged as she dabbed at her eyes with a cocktail napkin.

“He chose them,” Stella said quietly, the residual pain from her friend slowly seeping over to her.

“I don’t know.” Miranda swallowed hard. “He OD’d in a hotel in Tulsa before he told me what he’d decided.”

Oh God. Sheer panic gripped her. Talk about an unexpected turn. She hadn’t expected the woman’s story to end that way. She’d thought they were going to get more wine and toast to men being assholes.

She didn’t know how to comfort people. Not being in the habit of confiding in others, she was usually glad that they returned the favor. She spoke in the soothing voice she was used to using with Shadowdancer.

“I’m so sorry, Miranda. I can’t even begin to imagine what that must’ve been like for you.”

“Dear Lord, I didn’t mean to turn Girls’ Night Out into a pity party. Sorry.” She huffed out a breath. “He’s been gone eight years. But he’s why I took this job after finishing medical school. If I can help someone before they lose their life—and before the people who love them lose them to addiction—then I want to be in their corner for that fight.”

Stella nodded. A shameful heat burned in her cheeks. That was an awfully noble reason for working at SCR. She’d just been mostly hiding out from home.

“Have you, um, dated anyone since then?”

Her friend’s gaze dipped downward. “Not exactly. I’ve um, hooked up, I guess you could say, with a few guys just to blow off steam. But no, nothing serious.”

“You look so young. Eight years seems like—”

“I’m twenty-seven. I’ll be thirty before you know it,” Miranda told her. “But thanks for the compliment. What are you? Twenty-two? Twenty-three?”

“I’ll be twenty-three in a few weeks.”

“We’ll have to go out again to celebrate. Can I give you some unsolicited advice from someone who wishes someone would’ve given her some at twenty-two?”

Stella smiled, grateful that Miranda seemed slightly lighter after getting her story off her chest. And that she wanted to hang out again. “Sure. Shadowdancer sucks at advice.”

Her friend grinned, but then her expression went deathly serious. “If you are just lusting after him, give it two months until he’s out of SCR and meet up and get him out of your system when it won’t cost you your job.”

Stella bit her lip. Two months left meant he’d hit his thirty days. Thirty days meant he’d been moved into one of the private residences and out of the main facility. Two months had never seemed so long. This past week alone had felt like torture. Like someone had breathed life into her and then stolen it right back.

“But if it’s more than that,” Miranda continued, “like maybe you want to pursue more than one night with him, then put your two-weeks notice in and tell him how you feel. Sooner rather than later.”