“Janie, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you back this afternoon, I promise.”

Her sister was silent for a moment. “Sure, that’s fine, but…you okay?”

No. Not even close. Don’t let me do this.

“Yup, totally. Talk soon.”

She switched over to the other call before her sister could catch on to the fact that Penelope’s heartbeat was thumping in overdrive.

“Hello?”

“Now there’s a voice I haven’t heard in far too long,” said the gravelly voice on the other end of the line.

She’d always loved Evan Barstow’s voice. It was a shame his first passion was sportswriting, because he had an awesome radio voice.

“Hi, Evan.”

“How you doing, babe?”

She swallowed. He sounded so…casual. As though the last time they’d talked, she hadn’t been fighting back tears as he’d delivered a double whammy of I took your job, and Oh, by the way, that kiss you tried to plant on me was awkward because I’m seeing someone.

“I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. “I’m great.”

There, that was better. Less pathetic.

“How’s the New York freelance world treating you?”

“Actually, not doing that anymore. I took another job, with Oxford magazine.”

He paused. “The men’s magazine?”

“Yup.” The massive, household-name magazine, she silently added.

“Wow, that’s fucking awesome. Although they don’t have much in sports, if I remember correctly. A couple pages. You doing cologne reviews now or something?”

He laughed at his own joke, and her jaw clenched. Had he always been such a jerk? “Actually, they’ve recently decided to overhaul and expand their sports section, and brought me in to oversee the project.”

It was only a partial truth, since technically she shared the job, but she didn’t feel particularly bad about the semi-fib.

“How are things with you?” she asked.

“Good. They’re really good. Busy, which is actually why I’m calling, got a favor.”

Any hope that he might be calling to apologize went out the window. Of course he needed something.

She didn’t say anything, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Sportiva is looking to expand into New York, and they’re sending me out there to sort of do an initial scouting session. Knowing you, you probably did a ton of research about the New York sports scene before moving out there…”

Which you well know since you stole the last research I did.

“I was thinking I could take you out to dinner. Pick your brain a little.”

Penelope wanted to say no. Wanted to tell him to go to hell.

And yet, it felt…petty.

Plus, she wanted to prove—especially to herself—that she was over Evan Barstow, and the only way to do that…

“When are you coming out?” she asked reluctantly.

“Friday, actually.”

She blinked. “This Friday?”

“I know it’s last-minute, but figured, why wait, and…”

“Are you coming alone?”

There was a brief pause, and Penelope squeezed her eyes shut at what the question betrayed. “I mean, is Caleb or anyone coming with you or…”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “No, just me. Been getting used to my alone time now that I’m single again.”

Boom. There it was.

Evan Barstow was single. And coming to New York. And wanted to see her.

And…

She didn’t care.

Did she?

“Well, it’d be nice to see you,” she said. “Maybe we could grab dinner on Friday when you get in?”

“Absolutely,” he said. She didn’t think she was imagining the relief in his voice, and it warmed her a little to think that he might have been nervous about calling her.

“Look, I’ve got to get going. I have a lunch meeting, but text me your flight details, ’kay?”

“Absolutely, will do. And Penelope—”

She stilled.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and muttered an awkward goodbye before hanging up the phone.

Penelope gathered her bag to go meet Julie in the lobby, when all of a sudden she skidded to a halt.

Evan was flying in Friday.

He’d be here all weekend.

Except weekend days were her and Cole’s time, which meant…

She didn’t know what any of it meant.

“Freaking great,” she muttered to herself. “Well done, Pope.”

How was it that she’d gone from a chronic state of no men to all of a sudden having two to contend with?

A minute later, Penelope was scanning the lobby for Julie, when inspiration struck.

Julie…She would definitely know what to do.

“Whoa,” Julie said, holding up a hand as Penelope came to a stop in front of her. “Can we talk about your scowl for a second?”

“Sorry,” Penelope said with a sheepish smile.

“Don’t apologize. Tell me everything,” Julie said, linking her arm with Penelope’s and pulling her toward the door. “I know that scowl. It’s about a man. And considering I saw you wearing Cole Sharpe’s T-shirt at five-thirty in the morning…”

“Um…”

“Hold that thought until we’re sitting down,” Julie said.