Virginia sauntered to the battered wood table, back straight, careful not to show all that moved under her skin. She wrote the lines she wanted them to read—not simply that she was beautiful, but that she was in control of her beauty. In control of all things. “Where should I sit?” she asked.

Tourmaline shoved out the edge of a long bench running down the empty side of the table. “We were just about to get started.”

Virginia sat. “What’re we eating? It smells amazing.”

“Marinated skirt steak fajitas with fresh guacamole, Spanish rice, cheese, sour cream, and homemade tortillas,” the guy cooking replied.

“T, why haven’t you ever introduced us to your friend? Virginia, wasn’t it?” Jason asked. His gaze wandered lazily from the edge of the table to her eyes, mouth curled into a mischievous smile.

For one split second Virginia careened wildly out of control, heart pumping so hard she thought it might crack open and stop altogether.

His mouth curved deeper. Eyes brighter. And in the sharp black nothing fixed straight on her soul, she felt caught in something unexpected.

“How could I be so thoughtless as to not introduce you to all my high school friends?” Tourmaline snapped, pulling Jason’s gaze.

The interval was long enough for Virginia to resume breathing and gather back the use of her body.

“What happened to your arm?” Virginia motioned to the scars. “I know the ladies treat you like a piece of meat, but did someone try to make sausage out of you?”

He looked away dismissively, as if he hadn’t heard.

Tourmaline’s dad cleared his throat. “Any summer plans, Virginia?”

“Wreaking havoc and causing mayhem throughout southern Virginia,” she said with a smile, not looking in Jason’s direction. He was nothing but temptation and she needed to focus. “How about you?”

“The same.” Tourmaline’s father laughed. “The same.”

The guy cooking set down a colorful platter of softly charred and tender strips of steak, and peppers and onions. “Let me get the tortillas, one second,” he said. “And a plate for you, Virginia. I didn’t forget.”

“I wasn’t worried,” she sang. If she wasn’t going to use Jason, maybe this one? She glanced over her shoulder, and as he came back, she smiled. “Do you have a seat? I can make some room.” She slid down on the bench.

“The conscript isn’t eating,” Jason cut in dismissively.

“The what?”

“No one,” Tourmaline’s dad said, using the tongs to gather up a thick helping of dripping slices of charred beef.

The man went back to the kitchen without saying a word.

“It’s like pledging. He’s pledging,” Tourmaline said. “So he doesn’t get a seat at the table until he’s earned it.” She flicked her fork at the table. “They’ve all done it. Except my dad.”

“It’s not like pledging. At all,” Jason said to Tourmaline. “This isn’t a fucking fraternity.”

“Well, how else do you want me to describe it?”

Jason shook his head and reached for the platter. “I want you to . . .” He snapped his hand together, Shut up.

Tourmaline raised an eyebrow and took a bite, managing to look completely unimpressed.

“Well, you’re sassy tonight,” Tourmaline’s dad said.

Tourmaline didn’t respond. Her gaze flickered to the kitchen and back to her plate.

Oh. Virginia straightened. It wasn’t Jason who Tourmaline wanted. Jason sat in the picture with her as a little kid. He’d be like a brother. And even if Tourmaline saw what he looked like, she’d seen him as old for too long.

But the guy in the kitchen.

He was both old enough and young enough for Tourmaline. He was a big guy—tall and muscular—with a nice smile and a solid presence, holding his own space, even in a room with two others who each could fill it.

Understanding did not deflect Virginia from her own survival for one second. She twisted to find him in the kitchen. “I didn’t catch your name?” She smiled, suddenly appalled at the hesitation pulling her mouth tight. It should not matter that the girl in the frothy dress wanted him. Virginia needed someone. Tourmaline bothered with love, Virginia dealt in life, and there could be no first without the second.

“Just the conscript,” Jason answered instead.

“Cash,” Tourmaline said.

The entire table froze.

Virginia turned back. Instantly, her stomach twisted.

It wasn’t anything new—the look on Tourmaline’s face—but for some reason it stung. This should have been clean and painless. Instead, Virginia wanted to fix it. To take it back. To apologize and somehow keep Tourmaline from hating her.

And with no prospects, no plan, and the only reason she was allowed at that table hating her, Virginia’s future looked dim.