“You know what, that’s not it. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…” He sucks in a deep breath. “You shouldn’t let James talk to you like that. It’s unprofessional. Take care.”

Unprofessional. Unprofessional?

The synthesized voice of a woman cuts in. “To delete this message…”

I slam the receiver down. Pick it up. Slam it again.

As if I have any choice in how James talks to me. He’s our boss. What the hell am I supposed to do? My chest constricts and I slow my runaway breathing. I know what’s going on here. Graeme is trying to psych me out. Throw me off my game. Well, guess what, Graeme? It’s not working.

In fact, I’ve learned something. If I want this job, I need to stay a step ahead of the competition. I need to be tireless. I need to crumble that Graham Cracker into dust. Setting my jaw, I scoop up my cell phone and enter a new item in my to-do app. Highest priority.

Task #1: Defeat Graeme Crawford-Collins.

I intercept Tory and Christina at the elevator.

“Who’s ready for happy hour?” Tory loops her arms around our shoulders. She’s five foot nothing on a good day, so she has to stand on tiptoe to do it.

“Me,” I say as I push the down button. After the roller coaster of a day I’ve had, I definitely need a drink. Or ten. My phone buzzes in my bag and I dig it out. It’s Walsh. I forgot she was going to call. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

The elevator doors open and I file inside behind Tory and Christina. I tap the green accept icon and hold the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Henley!” says Walsh in her smooth alto.

“Hey, baby sis, what’s up?”

“Not much. Are you leaving work now?” Her tone is light, but there’s a tension to it that has my alarm bells jerking awake.

“Just about, I’m in the elevator. So, what’s the big surprise?”

Walsh hesitates. “Oh, you know. The usual.”

Way too breezy. My chest tightens in warning. “Walsh,” I grate.

“I’m moving,” she says. I can practically see the overly bright, forced smile she must have plastered on her face. “Surprise!”

I groan. “Again?”

“Boulder was too… expensive.”

I roll my eyes so hard at the bronzed ceiling I nearly give my eyeballs whiplash. If she had a full-time job, it wouldn’t be so expensive. “Where to now?” I ask. I try to keep my tone casual, but I’m not sure I’m nailing it. Blood is pounding in my ears. With everything else going on in my life, Walsh couldn’t have picked a worse time to pull a Walsh.

She’s twenty-four. If you think she’d have her life figured out by now, you’d be wrong.