“I get why you wouldn’t want to date again. But I know you. You like being with someone. When it’s right, that is.”
“And how would I know if it’s right?”
I smile, answering from the heart. “If it feels too good to be true, but it’s completely true.”
“Sounds like a movie.”
“Yes, and sometimes stories like in the movies come true. If you put yourself back out there.”
He takes a beat, perhaps considering it, then nods. “Maybe I will, then.”
I clap once, glad for my friend. “Let’s see. Where do I know a fun, chatty, bighearted single woman?”
He laughs. “Nowhere, because they don’t exist.”
“Hush.” I hum thoughtfully. “Maybe Crosby knows someone.”
Matthew laughs doubtfully, a twinkle in his green eyes. “I’m sure your baseball star beau knows loads of single women.”
He has a fair point. Except wait a second. “I might know someone.” I lean closer and whisper, “I’ll find out if she likes wine and painting.”
“You do that.”
The day that spring training ends and my guy boards a flight back to the Bay Area, I’m a certifiable jackie-in-the-box, ready to spring with desire the second I see him. Just a few more hours now.
It’s a Friday night, and I head out to dinner with my family. Eric and Mariana. Brooke and David. My mom and her new beau, Craig, who loves to chat about ’70s music and is completely adorable.
Over apps and dinner at a restaurant near my place, we catch up on what everyone’s been up to for the last few weeks. During dessert, Eric lifts his fork to take a bite of the tiramisu, then clears his throat, meeting my gaze. “I guess all you’re waiting for is to see my best friend tonight?”
With a delicious grin, I nod. “I am indeed.”
Brooke laughs. “Yeah, she’s only been checking her phone the entire meal.”
I shoot her a stern look. “I have not been doing that.”
My mom purses her lips like she’s holding in a smile. “You kind of have, Nadia.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “Do you blame me?”
“No. I completely understand,” Brooke says, sliding her hand down her husband’s arm.
David blushes then drops a kiss onto her cheek. “I don’t blame you for wanting your hands on me.”
My family is full of perverts, apparently.
Including yours truly.
At the end of the meal, I nearly jump out of my seat, that much closer to seeing Crosby. I make my goodbyes and walk the few blocks home, enjoying the night air, the hint of a warm breeze as March nears its end in San Francisco.
I relish being home. I thought I would miss Vegas, but I don’t. This is where I was meant to be.
With family, with new friends, with a job I absolutely stinking love.
And with a guy I’ve known for so many years but am getting to understand in a new and incredibly wonderful way.
Maybe this is what the universe had in mind after all.
Or maybe, just maybe, I made sure I wasn’t fool enough to miss my chance when it came.
An hour later, the blue-eyed, crooked-grin-sporting, steady-handed third baseman and all-around good guy strides through my door, cups my cheeks, and kisses the hell out of me.
I melt into his arms, kissing him back just as hard, just as hungry.
Just as desperately.
It feels so damn good to share this wild, wonderful want with him. I tug on his shirt, drag him to the bedroom, and rip off his clothes.
“I guess I know what you missed the most,” he says, his voice a naughty rasp.
“Find out just how much,” I say, my hands racing over his skin.
And oh, he does find out. He moves over me, sliding into me, and, for the first time ever, filling me with no barriers between us.
We’re even closer like this, even more connected. It’s electric bliss, it’s supercharged lust, and it’s mad, passionate love as we come together.
When we’re done with round one, I drag a hand down his chest. “About your cousin Rachel,” I say.
“What about her?” He tilts his head, curious.
“Well, you said she had a jerk of an ex and liked to keep herself busy by setting other people up.”
“I did say that.”
“I happen to have a very good friend who’s newly single and is a great guy.”
“You don’t say,” he says, catching my meaning.
“Maybe the matchmaker needs us to play matchmaker,” I say, then I tell him more about Matthew and he tells me more about Rachel, and we decide they’d be perfect for each other.
He sends her a text, and I send one to Matthew, and a few minutes later, we’ve arranged a blind date for them.
“Now that we’ve accomplished that, I was thinking we might need some new rules for us,” I say with a smile.
He kisses my shoulder, dragging his lips along my warm skin. “And what would those be?”
“That we have lots of sex,” I say.
“Rule one,” he says with a roll of his eyes.
“That we keep asking for what we want,” I add.
“Rule two.”
“And that maybe I buy your team,” I say.
He cracks up. “You’re joking?”
I laugh too. “I am.”
“Okay, here’s my rule, then,” he says, his tone going serious.
I push up on my elbows, letting him know I’m paying attention. “Hit me up.”
He strokes my hair then grazes his thumb over my jaw. “You let me keep on loving you.”
I kiss his lips, whispering the only possible answer. “Yes.”
Then, I get out of bed and grab a gift from the bureau. Sinking back onto the mattress, I give him a pair of chipmunk socks. “For the season. They’ll be your new lucky socks. Just don’t wear them during sex.”
He cracks up. “Why would I wear lucky socks when I’m already getting lucky?”
Sounds like we have a deal.
Epilogue
Holden
It's a beautiful night in April when Crosby swings by and picks me up to head to an event at the Legion of Honor. Chance is with him too, so we make
