“I’ve heard you’re awesome at what you do.”

I smiled into my glass before taking the last sip. “Thanks. Sadie is such a doll.”

“She really appreciates you working so hard and so fast for her.”

“It’s my pleasure,” I said, setting my empty glass down. Tyler’s had been empty for a few minutes already. “It’s going to be a beautiful wedding. She’s an easy bride to work with, and it makes me happy to see her so excited. Seems like yesterday she was a little kid in pigtails needing a Band-Aid for a scraped knee, or help with her spelling words, or a quarter for the gumball machine.”

“You were so good to her.”

“Well, it was my job.”

“You never treated her like she was a job.”

My cheeks warmed, and I shrugged. “Being a big sister came easy to me. Plus, I loved hanging out with her. And with you too, of course.” It came out a little flirtier than I’d meant it to. Was it the bourbon? Was it how good he smelled? Or was it how close he was sitting, the way he was looking at me like I was the only person in the room, possibly the world?

Something was definitely making me a little lightheaded.

Tyler gave me his old grin. “We had some good times, didn’t we? That is, when you weren’t giving me shit about my massive ego.”

“The only thing bigger than your biceps,” I quipped, poking his upper arm.

“Now you know that’s not true.”

Our eyes met, and my heart hiccupped. I crossed my legs—tight.

“Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t resist.” But that cocky smile stayed put on his lips, telling me he wasn’t really sorry.

All at once, I remembered how easily I’d fallen into his arms eighteen years ago—and I knew instinctively how easily it could happen again if I wasn’t careful.

Tyler Shaw just did something to me.

Seven

Tyler

Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have said it, but I wasn’t sorry.

I’d always loved teasing April. And something about being around her had me feeling like my old self again.

Her expressions were the same, her voice was the same, and those dimples just made me happy to look at them. I could still make her laugh, and when she made her usual crack about my biceps, it was like no time had gone by at all, like everything was right in the world. It was giving me an even better buzz than the bourbon.

The food arrived, and Jacie asked us if we’d like another round.

“I’ll do one more,” I said.

April hesitated, then laughed. “I would, but I’m not sure I should. I’m already a little tipsy.”

“Oh, come on,” I prodded. “I can drive you home.”

She leveled her gaze at me. “I’ve heard that one before.”

Happy that she’d been the one to make a joke about it this time, I held up my hands. “No detours, I promise.”

She sighed and shrugged. “Okay. Why not? Another Brown Eyed Girl bourbon on the rocks. Lots of rocks.”

Jacie smiled. “You got it. Be right back.”

“Here, try some of this. It’s really good.” April leaned toward me and put some salad on my plate.

That was when I accidentally looked down her blouse—okay, it wasn’t exactly an accident—and the glimpse of her black lace bra made the crotch of my pants get a little tight. But then I noticed the pendant she wore around her neck—a small gold four-leaf clover.

“Hey, I like your necklace,” I said, reaching for it without even thinking. My fingers brushed her collarbone. “It reminds me of when Sadie used to give me a shamrock for luck before a game.”

Her dimples appeared, and she stayed still while I examined the little gold charm. “Oh, I remember that,” she said. “So sweet.”

I let it go and leaned back. “She used to get so mad when I’d tell her they weren’t four-leaf clovers, so they weren’t lucky.”

“But they made you feel good, didn’t they?”

I nodded. “Every time.”

“That’s what mattered to her. She worshipped you.”

“Who didn’t?”

That earned me a dirty look and poke on the shoulder, just like we were seventeen again and back at my dad’s old kitchen table. I never wanted this feeling to end.

While we ate, I asked her about her time in New York and whether she ever missed living in a big city.

“You know, it was fun, but I don’t really miss living in a big city,” she said, spreading some burrata on a small piece of bread. “I liked it when I was there—the chaos, the energy—but that was my twenties. I don’t have that in me anymore—the late nights and early mornings would kill me. And I didn’t love the corporate culture. I much prefer where I am now.”

“So you’ll stay in this area, you think?”

She sighed. “I suppose that depends on what the future holds. I do like it here. It’s home to me. What about you? Ever think about moving back?”

Our drinks arrived, and I took a hefty swallow before answering. “Nah. This isn’t home anymore.”

“You think of California as home now?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure any place feels like home to me.”

“Why not?”

That was a hard question to answer, so I turned it back on her. “What makes this place feel like home to you?”

She took a bite of her bread and thought for a second. “I guess it’s the sense that, somehow, I know I belong here. I have history here. I miss it when I’m gone, and I’m always happy to come back. I just . . . feel most like myself here.”

“I used to feel that way on the field.” After another sip, I set the glass down. “But I don’t feel that anywhere anymore. Not since I quit playing. And I miss it,” I confessed, which surprised me, because it wasn’t something I ever said out loud. “I really fucking miss it.”

“I’m sorry.” She was silent for a moment. “Do you want to talk about it? Baseball, I mean? Or what happened?”

“No. It’s fine. I mean, obviously, it’s not fine, but if talking about it helped, I’d be on the mound in St. Louis right now.”

“Well,” she said, offering me a tiny smile, “I might be the only one, but I’m glad you’re here with me tonight. It’s really good to see you.”

I smiled back. “It’s good to see you too.”

“And it’s nice to get out,” she went on. “Most nights I’m either working late at events or just grabbing something quick and eating dinner at home by myself.”

Looking at her and having spent the last couple hours enjoying her company, it was hard to believe she was single if she didn’t want to be. Not only was she beautiful, but she was sweet and funny and smart—so what was the story? What was wrong with the jackasses around here that they weren’t lining up to be with her?

“Earlier, you said something about living alone,” I ventured. “That it doesn’t suit you. What made you say that?”

She sighed and popped an olive in her mouth. “I’d like to meet someone. Get married, have a family.”