But he hadn’t thought about her when she didn’t show.

Nope.

Hadn’t watched the door the entire time, waiting for that familiar ponytail, wide hazel eyes, and calm smile that always convinced him everything was right in the world.

He hadn’t—

Hell. He was a f**king liar. He hadn’t been able to think of anything but Grace ever since she’d all but kicked him out of her office with a don’t-get-malaria pat on the ass.

It wasn’t that he’d expected tears and theatrics. Not from Grace.

But he’d thought she’d at least feel a modicum of the regret he did that whatever they had was ending so abruptly. At the very least he’d expected her to give him grief about walking out on the story before it was officially done, but she hadn’t even blinked.

It was time to accept that he’d been her playboy rebound, and she’d been his …

Shit. He didn’t know.

He only knew that the itch between his shoulder blades was getting worse. Why? He was getting the change he so desperately wanted. He should be feeling that familiar euphoria he got when he was headed in the right direction. Instead he felt … heavy.

“Jake, are you listening to me?”

No. “Sorry, Mom. What was that?”

“I was asking what Grace said when you told her.”

He gestured to the bartender for a beer—any beer—as he set his carry-on on the bar stool next to him and took a seat.

“I’ve already told you about a million times, Mom. She didn’t say much. Told me to have fun. Said that Costa Rica sounds great.”

“What else?”

Jake closed his eyes. How many times did he have to relive this? “I don’t know. There was the usual amicable breakup stuff. That I should give her a call when I get back to the city, and let’s be friends. Stuff like that.”

“Did she touch you?”

“Mom!”

“I mean, did she hug you goodbye? Squeeze your hand, anything like that?”

He thought back. “No. No, actually it sort of seemed like she was going out of her way not to touch me, come to think of it.”

“Oh, Jakey,” his mom said in her disappointed voice.

“Oh Jakey what?”

“You know, this whole time I’ve been on your side on this boys-versus-girls charade on your website. I’ve been so sure that my boy knew women. You have four sisters and a million ex-girlfriends. How could you not be an expert?”

“Not a million, Ma,” he muttered, taking a big gulp of beer.

“But I’m beginning to think you’re as clueless as the rest of them. Is the voting on the website still up? Because yesterday there was that poll asking once and for all whether Grace knew you better than you knew her …”

“I dunno, I quit paying attention to that stupid site.”

“So you won’t mind then if I change my vote? Side with the women?”

He set the beer glass down too hard on the beat-up wooden bar. “Why would you do that?”

“Because, my favorite son, you don’t know the first thing about women. Or at least you don’t know the first thing about Grace. You’ve got this whole situation all wrong.”

“What does that mean?” he growled. “What are you trying to say in your crafty maternal way?”

Silence.

“Mom! What does that mean?”

Jake pulled his phone away and stared at it in baffled silence.

His mother had just hung up on him.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“You sure you want to do this, Gracie?”

Grace accepted the beer that Julie held out. “No. But what choice do I have?”

She kept her voice low because there were people everywhere. The Yankees were playing Boston, which apparently was a big deal in baseball land, because the stadium was completely packed. Except only half the people in the Ravenna group seemed to care about the game. The rest were focused on her.

Well, her and Cory Garrison and Colby Blanche. Camille and Alex Cassidy’s new HeSaidSheSaid couple couldn’t be any cuter. Even their names went well together, and the readers who’d won the baseball tickets were eating it up.

As far as Grace knew, this was Cory and Colby’s first date, and every glance and smile were being eagerly observed.

Poor kids.

Mitchell sat down on the other side of Julie, handing Grace a hot dog before giving one to his fiancée.

“No relish,” he said with a wink at Julie.

Inexplicably, Julie grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down for a very baseball-inappropriate kiss.

“Wow, that’s a lot of tongue just because the guy managed to get your condiments right,” Grace said, taking a bite of her with-the-works hot dog.

“Inside joke,” Julie said, pulling back and wiping her pink lip gloss off Mitchell’s mouth.

Grace felt a little pang. She missed that. Missed the stolen kisses and the inside jokes. Her hot dog turned dry in her mouth as she realized she wasn’t thinking of Greg.

She was thinking of Jake.

Thinking of the way he’d laughingly hold her eyes after making some outrageous comment that invariably got posted on the damn website. Thinking about the way he’d have brought her Parisian chocolate just because he knew she liked it, or the way he’d have sent wildly inappropriate text messages and then loudly demand that she read them aloud.

“Lose the sad-face,” Julie said. “Single-girl power, remember?”

“Being single is only powerful when you want to be single,” Grace muttered back.

“Says the woman who didn’t fight for her man.”

Grace set her hot dog in her lap so she could turn and give her friend a full-on glare. “I told you. He was going to Costa Rica. Then Argentina. Then God knows where. And he wasn’t exactly all ‘Oh, Grace, please come along.’ Hell, he wasn’t even all ‘Oh, Grace, will you wait for me?’ It was just boom. Gone.”

Julie took a bite of her hot dog. “He might’ve stayed if you’d told him.”

“Told him what?” Mitchell asked, taking a drink of beer without ever taking his eyes off the game. Mitchell was a die-hard Yankee fan. Probably the only one in their little group who was.

“She’s in love,” Julie said.

Grace’s chest went tight. “I’m not.”

Even Mitchell glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

Okay, so that hadn’t been all that convincing.

“I don’t want to be in love,” she corrected. There. That was more precise.

“Neither does Riley, but look at that train wreck,” Julie said, gesturing with her cup to several rows in front of them, where Riley and Sam Compton were in yet another heated argument over a foul ball.

“Does Riley even know what a foul ball is?” Mitchell asked.

“No,” Julie replied. “But if Sam says it’s foul, she’d go to her grave claiming otherwise.”

“She looks possessed,” Mitchell said.

Grace smiled in spite of her bad mood as she took in her best friend’s tantrum. Riley’s long wavy black hair was pulled into a ponytail and threaded back through the hole in her ancient Yankees cap like she was a little kid. However, the curvy body under the too-tight Jeter jersey and skintight jeans definitely did not belong to a kid. Neither did the choice four-letter words spewing out of her mouth as she and Sam continued their spat.

“Why’d she invite him if she hates him so much?” Mitchell asked, turning his attention back to the game.

Grace and Julie turned to stare at him.

“What?” he asked, sensing both of their gapes.

“Even after all we’ve been through, you’re so clueless,” Julie said in awe.

“What am I missing?”

“That’s not hate,” Grace said, gesturing between Riley and her childhood frenemy. “That’s a little something we relationship experts like to call sexual tension.”

Julie nodded. “Except since this particular tension has been unrelieved for, oh, about ten years, it’s sort of morphed into this explosive dynamite-type situation.”

“So why don’t they just do it already? Take the edge off?” Mitchell asked, his attention already back on the game.

“Great idea, honey,” Julie said, patting his knee. “Why don’t you go ahead and suggest that. Oh, while you’re at it, maybe mention your grand plan to Liam, too.”

“Who’s Liam again?”

“Sam’s best friend and Riley’s big brother. And when I say big brother, I mean that in the overprotective, don’t-touch-my-baby-sister-and-I’ll-let-you-live kind of way.”

“Jeez, they have even more drama than Emma and Alex.”

Two female heads once again turned to gape at Mitchell.

“Emma Sinclair?” Julie asked. “As in our near and dear new friend?”

“Yeah.”

“And Alex Cassidy?” Grace said, scrunching up her nose. “As in sexy editor in chief of Oxford?”

“Can’t vouch for the sexy part, but yeah. I think that’s the guy.”

“They don’t even know each other,” Julie said. “Emma’s new to Stiletto and he’s new to Oxford.”

“Doesn’t mean they don’t know each other,” Mitchell said.

“Mitchell,” Julie said sweetly. “Will you stop doing that dense male thing and tell us what the hell you’re talking about? What drama?”

Mitchell spared them a glance, but only because it was between innings. “They used to be engaged.”

Grace didn’t have to look at Julie to know that her best friend’s mouth was gaping open. Just as hers was.

“Engaged? No way. How do you know?”

“Heard them talking about it. They were in front of me in the hot dog line.”

“Were they bickering?” Julie asked eagerly. “Was it like Riley and Sam?”

All three of them glanced down to see Riley taking a not-so-gentle swipe at Sam’s shoulder. “Eh, it was a little chillier than that. Can sexual tension happen in ice? Because these two were stone cold.”

“How could Emma not tell us?” Julie wailed, waving her hands wildly and sloshing some of her beer.

“Hard to say. I mean, you’re handling the news so well,” Mitchell muttered.

“Guess that explains Emma’s sudden migraine,” Grace said, scanning the crowd for Alex Cassidy. He was next to Camille, looking as reserved and handsome as ever with his short black hair and green eyes. He was lean and athletic. Grace seemed to remember Jake saying he’d been a college athlete of some kind.

Was that where he and Emma had met?

It was easy to picture them together. They both had that sort of unshakable calm, as though no one and nothing could ruffle their feathers.

Maybe that’s why they hadn’t worked. Maybe, as Mitchell had said, there had been too much ice, not enough fire.

Alex caught her staring and gave her an aloof smile before he leaned down to hear whatever Camille was rambling about.

Grace was so busy studying Alex and worrying about her friends’ love lives that she’d almost gone and forgotten about her own romantic drama. Almost.

But then Cole Sharpe plopped into the seat beside her, and reality came crashing back.

“Hey, baby.”

She forced a smile in return. She knew what he was trying to do. He’d be stepping in for Jake during the damned fifth-inning kiss-cam that would officially bring her and Jake’s saga to a close.

Only the close would be Grace moving on with another guy, with Jake nowhere to be found.

It made her look a bit like a hussy and made him look like a slime ball, but Grace wasn’t a fool. The local stations had their eye on her. The ticket winners who kept giving her pitiful looks had their eye on her.

She’d kiss Cole Sharpe for the magazine.

She’d do it to end the questions and the scrutiny over what had or hadn’t happened between her and Jake.

But after this inning?

She was peacing out of the romance department the way she’d originally planned months ago. The way she’d intended before a certain coffee-eyed, scruffy-jawed stranger had hopped into her cab and turned her carefully laid plans upside down.

Greg had fooled her once, Jake had fooled her the second time.… She’d be damned if there’d be a third time.

Grace had let 1.0 go. Actually, 1.0 had just sort of combusted the second Jake had walked out the door. Even 1.0 hadn’t been able to hold onto naiveté and happy endings after that.

But Grace had also kicked 2.0 to the curb, because 2.0 had only ever been 1.0’s guard dog. An extra layer of protection against a broken heart.

She didn’t need 2.0 as a shield anymore. There was nothing left to break.

“How long do we have?” Cole asked. “Do I have time to grab a beer?”

She allowed a small smile. “You need a drink before you can kiss me?”

He grinned back. The man really was handsome, and yet … nothing. Zilch. No zip, no attraction, nothing beyond an observation of something attractive, the way she might appreciate a good painting.

She discreetly placed her fingers against her wrist, feeling her pulse.

It was slow and steady.

“Good point,” he said, leaning back in his uncomfortable ballpark seat. “I want to have my wits about me when I rock your world.”

“Modest,” she said, taking a drink of her beer.

“And I see you don’t want your wits about you when I rock your world?” he asked, looking pointedly at the drink in her hand.