“VCs?” she asked. “You really think we could get actual funding?” She shook her head to clear it. She wanted to savor every moment of this, remember it, to tell Delia and Maddie, word for word.

“You, maybe. Me, definitely. I’m thinking a merger may be in our future. Might be time to take our little Pulse-Lit to market.”

Pulse-Lit. Lucy snarfed, and beer tickled her nose. And then his words hit her. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“As serious as a red screen of death,” he said. “Dinner first, though?”

Lucy was desperately trying not to wipe her nose with the back of her hand. “What?”

“A business dinner? To discuss? On the down low, of course. Because . . .”

“You can’t appear to have favorites. Even if you do.”

“Even if I do.”

“Pulse-Lit!” she cried, raising her beer in the air. She started laughing so hard, she pitched forward in her heels, toward the balcony railing.

Ryan swooped an arm around her waist. “I’ve got you.”

Lucy clutched his hand, steadying herself, grateful. Her head was swimming, and she knew she needed to go to bed. She stepped back, away from the railing, and Ryan, instead of letting go, pulled her toward him. Against him.

Lucy froze.

And then, down the hall, through the glass window of the door to the balcony, Maddie stared at her.

“Thank you,” Lucy said with a soft pat on his hand.

Slowly he released her.

“So, Lucy, do you like Thai?”

SEVENTEEN

SNIFF TEST • A rapid evaluation of a product or circumstance to see if it’s legit

SHE SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE it.

But she did.

She clicked.

And then Maddie cursed under her breath—a string of Irish slang and Chinese she’d learned from her parents.

The site for the virtual reality game startup had gone live that morning. The site she should have built—the one she would have built if her “friend” hadn’t stolen the job right out from under her. Though the site looked as though she had built it, integrating every single one of her ideas. From the broken grid layout to the scrolling game animations, every facet of her proposal was alive on her screen.

Not as smooth as she’d have made them, but enough to satisfy the client.

Cheaters weren’t supposed to prosper.

Tell that to the ten grand weighing down her “friend’s” bank account instead of hers.

Maddie reached for her phone to text Lucy, who’d left while she and Delia were still sleeping. The conversation Lucy’s drunken state had staved off last night needed to happen. Maddie stroked her four-leaf clover, hoping for an explanation that didn’t make her regret staying on Lucy’s team.

Before she could send her text, her phone rang. Though the number was unfamiliar, the New Hampshire underneath made her scramble to answer, spitting out a hello even before the phone reached her ear.