He’d taken the best thing in his life and run away from it. He’d had a damn good woman who was perfect for him, and he’d had his head so far up his ass, his heart so lodged in the past, that he’d lost her.

He’d thought about calling her. Texting her. Going by her apartment. Daisy was one of the most decent, rational people he knew. It had occurred to him that maybe I’m sorry would be enough, and they could go back to how they’d been.

But he didn’t want to go back.

He wanted more. He wanted everything from her.

And for that, he needed to pull out the stops.

Lincoln not-so-gently smacked the back of Cole’s head as he paced. “Focus, man. You’re supposed to be helping me get my woman, not making out with yours.”

“It was one little kiss,” Penelope protested.

Lincoln pointed a finger at her. “Pope, you know you’re my favorite, but I need your head in the game.”

Penelope cracked her knuckles, the way he’d known she would at any sports reference. “You got it. What’s the play?”

Jackson and Cole, the other two sports nerds, leaned forward, ready for action, as everyone else rolled their eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” Cassidy muttered, pushing away from where he’d been leaning against the wall, whispering with Emma.

“Hell no,” Lincoln said. “Where are you going?”

Cassidy shoved him out of the way and exited the conference room. “Trust me on this,” he called over his shoulder.

Lincoln ground his teeth and fixed his frustration on Julie and Riley. “Where are we with Mitchell and Sam?”

“Mitchell’s on his way,” Julie said soothingly as she placed a piece of sandwich on a paper plate and held it out to him. “Eat this sandwich, you’re acting hangry, sweetie.”

Lincoln resisted the urge to bat the plate out of her hand like a child, and instead glared.

Riley shrugged and picked up the rejected sandwich. “Is now a good time to tell you that Sam can’t make it?” she asked, taking a huge bite.

“Jesus, Ri, are you pregnant again?” Emma asked. “You’re eating a lot, even for you.”

Riley licked mayo off her thumb. “Sadly, no. Lady time is roaring loud and clear.”

“No,” Jackson said, as he dropped his own sandwich back on his plate in disgust. “Just no. There are rules for these sorts of things, Riley. No talking about your lady time while people are eating.”

“Or,” Jake said, raising his soda, “how about not talking about it ever?”

Cole clinked his Coke can against Jake’s. “Here here.”

“What do you mean, Sam’s not coming?” Lincoln asked, ignoring the banter that was normally right up his alley.

Riley sighed. “He’s in a whiskey tasting. He didn’t know.”

“Fine,” Lincoln grumbled. “But I need…”

“Bourbon?” Cassidy said, coming back into the conference room armed with a bottle of Blanton’s and a stack of plastic cups.

“God, yes,” everyone said, almost in unison.

“Who knew that Lincoln had this scary dictator side?” someone muttered.

Lincoln rolled his eyes at the melodrama and waited with what he thought was admirable patience as everyone got their pour of bourbon.

He shook his head when Cole handed him a glass, but his friend wasn’t deterred. “Are we here for the reason I think we are?” Cole asked.

Lincoln’s eyes narrowed. “What do you think?”

“You fucked up with Daisy. Want us to unfuck it?”

Lincoln gave a curt nod, and Cole pushed the cup at him again. “Take this. Trust me.”

“Yes, trust him. Cole wooed me back in rather impressive fashion,” Penelope said, staring adoringly at Cole.

“Only because I helped,” Cassidy muttered as he poured himself some of the bourbon.

“None of you have anything on me,” Jake said. “I got my woman back at a baseball game in front of an entire stadium.”

“Yeah, I’m taking credit for that one,” Cole said. “I was ready to put my tongue in Grace’s mouth so she wouldn’t be humiliated by your idiot cowardice.”

“For what it’s worth,” Mitchell Forbes said from the doorway of the conference room, impeccably dressed as ever in his pinstripes and wire-frame glasses, “I got Julie back all on my own.”

“Um, only after you had me on my knees on the ground, crying,” Julie said, even as she gave him a loving, indulgent look.

Mitchell lifted a shoulder. “Made the whole finale more dramatic.”

“Yes,” Lincoln said, going to Mitchell and clamping the other man on the shoulder. “This is what I’m talking about. I need drama, people. Fireworks.”

“What about literal fireworks?” Jackson asked. “That could be catchy.”

Everyone stared at him, then Mollie. “Good God, Molls, however did he land you?” Riley asked in awe.

Mollie picked up Jackson’s beat-up quarterback hand and kissed the knuckles. “It was very sweet. And very private. And involved a closet.”

“Yeah, no,” Lincoln said. “Pass on the closet and the fireworks. What else do you guys have?”

“Wait, really?” Mitchell asked. “This is why I busted my ass to get up here during rush hour on a Friday? To help you get Daisy back?”