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Ben motioned toward an image of Riley hugging an older brunette. “Who’s this?”

She smiled. “My mom.”

“Her hair color is different, but you look like her. She’s got kind eyes.”

“Mom’s the best—”

CLICK! The lock on her door turned.

Riley sat up straight. “Hello?”

Ben flinched, pointing the butter knife toward the apartment door as it swung open.

“Wakey wakey, Rye!” Wrapped in her candy floss-colored coat and carrying a bulging plastic bag, Piper struggled through the doorway, a newly procured set of spare keys dangling from her hand.

Riley’s tense stare dissolved. “You’re early!”

Ah, yeah, this one’s on the wall. Ben relaxed and the knife returned to his plate.

“No, you’re late.” Piper’s teasing eyes flew from her best friend to Ben and back again. “And I approve! Breakfast together—this looks cozy.”

“Pip!”

Piper dropped the keys into her pocket and the bag to the floor. “Oh my God! Did Riley pick you up at the strip club last night?” She beamed and extended her right hand. “I’m Piper.”

Ben wiped his right hand on his jeans and met her confident grip. “Oh, I’m not a stripper. Well, actually, I was, but only for two disastrous weeks. I’m Ben—just a friend.”

“You’re English!” Piper let go of his hand.

“Scottish, actually.”

“What?!” Piper’s eyes lit up. “No way!”

“I was born there.”

“Really? Me, too. Whereabouts?”

“Edinburgh.”

“Me, too! High five!” Piper lifted her hand, which Ben gave a reluctant smack. “What part?”

Riley’s eyes volleyed between the two Scots.

“Niddrie. I didn’t grow up there.”

“I was gonna say, your accent’s definitely not Scottish. Your family must’ve moved to England when you were young, huh?”

Ben ducked her gaze. “Yeah, something like that.”

Piper didn’t pause for breath, whipping off her coat and hanging it on the back of the door. “I’m soooo into Scotland. We moved when I was a newborn. Dad was a diplomat, so we lived in France, got sent to Japan, which I adore! Love Japanese things—”

“Except Erika.” Riley snickered, savoring another bite of toast. To borrow a phrase from Casey, Piper always said Erika was ‘up herself’.

Piper smoothed down her black knit mini-dress. “—but my heart belongs to anything Scottish: shortbread, haggis, the Loch Ness Monster. I’m a total believer—Nessie’s real.”

Riley chuckled.

“She is!” Piper snapped her gum, the sound earning a fleeting grimace from Ben. “I also Highland dance, I love a flirty kilt, and I can play bagpipes.”