“Because I pitched fast, dammit!”

“Oh, come on, that’s funny. Admit it.” She leaned over and nudged me with her shoulder. “And I was glad you were my first, despite everything.”

I ran a hand through my hair, sat up a little taller. “Good. But I just want it on the record”—I held out one hand—“I have learned some self-control in the ensuing years. And some skills. Some very valuable skills.”

“Duly noted,” April said with a nod. “Now let’s talk about your feelings.”

I frowned and picked up my beer. “Do we have to?”

“Yes. You’re very angry.”

“Don’t I have a right to be? You saw it tonight. I feel like I can’t turn a corner without someone telling me how great I was, what a shame it is that my career ended the way it did, or wondering why, for the love of God, I just couldn’t relax and throw the ball.”

“So tell them to fuck off.”

“I do. All the time.”

“But then you have to actually let it go.”

I exhaled. “That’s a lot harder. Because deep down, I’m asking myself the same damn thing.”

“Okay, so what’s next? Look ahead. If you can’t play ball anymore, what are you going to do to show everyone that you’re still a badass?”

Um, put my tongue between your legs? But I didn’t say that. What I said was, “I’ve got no idea.”

“Hmm. You need some clarity.”

What I needed was her naked body against mine. That moan in my ear. “You think?”

“Yes. And some inner peace. Deep down you’re craving it.”

Deep down I was craving a taste of her pussy, but I didn’t think I should mention it. “Okay.”

“Maybe you should try yoga,” she suggested. “Learn to find your center.”

The only center I wanted to find was hers. “Yoga? No way.”

“Well, we have to think of something to decrease your stress level. What about sex?”

I froze. “What about it?”

“Does it relax you?”

“You know, you don’t have to try to fix me. I’m fine.” And you definitely shouldn’t talk about sex—I’m hanging on to gentleman by a very thin thread here.

She sighed dramatically and held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop bothering you.”

“Thank you. You know, when you’re not trying to poke at my feelings, hanging out with you tonight is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

Her face lit up. “Really?”

“Really.”

Her cheeks turned pink and her dimples appeared, making me even warmer beneath my clothes. “That makes me feel good.”

“Here you go.” Jacie appeared and dropped off the check, which I grabbed before April could get her hands on it, although she tried, getting up on her knees and practically crawling onto my lap.

“Will you stop?” I held it way out of her reach with my right hand. “This is on me.”

“No! You don’t have to buy my dinner.”

“I know I don’t.”

“This is my family’s restaurant!”

“Don’t care.”

“Can we at least split it?”

“Fuck off. See? I said it.”

“I didn’t mean say it to me!” She laughed and made one final lunge for the small leather folder that sent her sprawling across my thighs.

Snaring her waist with my left arm, I set her upright again, tucked firmly against my side. “Hey. Enough. You’re gonna knock those candles off the table and set us on fire.”

She stopped struggling, but I didn’t let her go.

Our eyes locked. We were practically nose to nose. I could see the quick rise and fall of her chest. One easy slant of my head, and I’d know the taste of bourbon and cherries on her lips. If it were any other night, any other circumstance, any other girl, I’d have kissed her.

But it was April, and I couldn’t.

Tonight was my opportunity to do the right thing, be a better man—the kind of man my sister thought I was. Maybe I had been a selfish asshole back then, but I didn’t have to keep fucking up this friendship. April mattered to me, and I needed to act like it this time.

I released her from my grip and took my wallet from my back pocket. “Let me get this paid. They’re probably ready to get rid of us by now.”

“Okay.” She put a little distance between us and felt around beneath the table for her shoes. “Thanks for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.”

The vibe between us shifted toward politeness, and I was both relieved and disappointed.

When the bill was settled, we walked into the inn’s lobby, where April called goodnight to the woman at the front desk. I held the huge glass door open for her, and once outside, she tipped her head back and took a few deep breaths of cool night air. “Whoa, I’m dizzy. I’m definitely not used to bourbon.”

“It’s potent stuff.”

“I think I’m going to sleep at my parents’ house tonight. I definitely can’t drive.”

“Let me take you home. I don’t mind driving you—and no detours. I promise.”

She smiled at me. “I trust you. But I’d have to figure out how I’m going to get back here in the morning. I have to work.”

“I’ll come pick you up and bring you here. Whatever time you want,” I said, thinking she should not trust me at all.

“Stop it. You’re busy tomorrow.”

“I’m not too busy to help you.”

She sighed. “I would like to sleep in my own bed. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m positive.” I took her arm and started leading her toward my rental. “And driving you around doesn’t begin to make up for all the nice things you’ve done for me.”

When I said it, I’d been thinking of all the homework help, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth, it occurred to me how small that stuff was compared to her willingness to handle the adoption on her own and leave me out of it. Without a doubt, that had to be the single kindest thing anyone had ever done for me my entire life. It had allowed me to chase my dreams without guilt, without responsibility, without the inconvenience or distraction of a media shitstorm. I’d never even had to tell my father. I’d gotten off completely scot-free. And April . . . she’d weathered that massive storm on her own. For me.

Jesus, how had it taken me eighteen years to think of it that way? And how could I show her how much I appreciated it?

You can start by keeping your hands, your mouth, and your dick to yourself.

Immediately, I let go of her arm. “I’m over there. The black SUV.”

As I drove down the long, winding driveway leading from Cloverleigh Farms back onto the main road, April gave me directions to her condo. When I turned into the lot of her complex, she pointed to a row of townhouses over to the left. “I’m over there. The one on the far end. You can use the spot right in front—that’s mine.”

I pulled up in front of her place, where she slept alone but didn’t want to, and wished more than anything I could go in with her. Treat her right this time. Show her I wasn’t selfish. I’d undress her all the way this time, slowly. I’d use my tongue and my hands. I’d tell her how beautiful she was. I’d spend all night long making her come.