My heart raced as I stepped out of the elevator. My stomach churned as I walked down the hall. By the time I knocked on the door, I was a nervous, sweaty wreck.

Jake opened the door and all the words I planned on saying flew out of my head. I threw my arms around his neck, and smashed my mouth to his, kissing him the way I’d been thinking about kissing him for days.

Jake pulled me into his place, closed the door, and pinned me against it. With each caress of his tongue, heat built up in my body, until every inch of me was burning. I was seconds from getting carried away and ripping off his shirt when he broke the kiss.

His chest rose and fell against mine. He ran his nose across the top of my cheek and kissed the sensitive spot under my ear, sending a delicious chill down my spine. “Hey.”

I bit my lip, barely managing to suppress a moan. “I came to thank you for last night.”

His warm breath tickled my neck. “Much better than a card.”

This was the moment to follow up with the rest of it.

“I’m on my way to meet some friends for dinner,” Jake said. “You wanna come with me?”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your plans. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate what you did last night. Even though I didn’t deserve it.”

Jake put a hand on my hip, the way he had the first night we met. And like the first night we met, it sent my pulse skyrocketing. “You wouldn’t be intruding. We’re just meeting at Buffalo Wild Wings to watch the game. Tina and her boyfriend will be there, and a couple of guys I play in a basketball league with.”

Meeting his friends. More entanglement. Opposite of what I was supposed to be doing…

He slipped his hand behind me and pulled me tighter against him, making my thoughts go fuzzy. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

The grin he flashed did me in. Especially as I took in his T-shirt, jeans, and baseball cap. Casual and sporty looked good on him. I, on the other hand, was wearing a cream-colored silk shirt that didn’t seem like a good idea when it came to eating bright orange wings. “Do I have time to change?”

…

Jake and I walked into Buffalo Wild Wings. Flat-screen televisions hung on every wall, so no matter where you were, you could see some kind of sporting event playing out. He grabbed my hand and led me to a table in the back with a great view of a giant screen.

“Hey, everyone,” Jake said. “This is Darby.”

A sea of greetings came at me.

“You know Tina.” She was next to an attractive guy with a shaved head and the biggest arms I’d ever seen. “That’s Vinnie.”

“Adam…” Jake pointed at the scrawny guy with the goatee, then the athletic-looking guy with the dirty-blond hair. “And that’s Pete.”

“Nice to meet you all.” I scooted in next to Tina and Jake sat on the other side of me.

“I’m almost done with your friend’s vases,” Tina said. “They’re turning out really well, if I do say so myself.”

“You totally saved the day.”

“I owe you, too. I’ve had several people come in and tell me you referred them.”

Jake put his arm around me. “So which wings do you want? They have just about every kind you can think of. We usually get a big thing and mix and match.”

My phone rang and I groaned. “Sorry. It’s my boss again. Just get whatever; I’m not picky.”

With the music and the talking, I couldn’t hear myself think, much less what Patricia was saying. I nudged Jake. He moved, and I tried to get away from the noise.

I stepped into the quietest corner I could find, pressed my phone to my ear, and used my free hand to plug the other ear. “What was that?”

“Where’s Nadine?” Patricia asked, annoyance filling her voice.

“I have no idea. Did you call her cell?”

“Of course I did. I need a number from her, but she’s not picking up. I was hoping you had it.”

“Didn’t Nadine give you the entire vendor list?”

Patricia exhaled loudly enough I could hear it through the phone. “I’m out to dinner. I don’t have it with me.”

Sure, she gets to go out to dinner.

As luck would have it, I had the number she was looking for stored in my phone. I rattled it off, hung up, and headed back to the table.

“So she’s just going to come in and out whenever she feels like it?” Tina asked.

Jake shrugged. “It’s not like—”

“Hey, Darby,” Adam said, nice and loud, leading me to believe that Jake and Tina were talking about me.

“Sorry about that,” I said. “I’ve got this big project at work that my boss won’t leave me alone about.”

Jake stepped aside so I could get to my seat, then sat back down beside me. The guys were all focused on the Rockies game going on the wall opposite us. A guy from the Yankees caught the ball that the batter popped into the air.

Everyone groaned except Jake. His lips curved into a megawatt grin. “You guys are so going down tonight.”

Adam reached for a fried mozzarella stick. “No way. We can still win.”

Glancing at the score, I saw the Rockies were down by seven. “So you’re a Yankees fan,” I said to Jake, though it was pretty obvious, what with the cheering and the Yankees cap he was sporting.

“Born and raised. Every year these guys claim the Rockies are going to win one, but they always lose.” He put his hand on my thigh. “You care about baseball?”

“Uh, no. The only more boring sport on TV is golf. Or bowling. I can handle a football game now and then, but I don’t care enough to go out of my way to watch one.”

Adam’s mouth dropped. “I don’t know if we can let you hang out with us if you don’t care about sports. It’s what we’re all about.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret. Most girls don’t care about sports. They just say they do to impress you. Once you’re hooked, they’ll start complaining about how much you watch. Only a select few actually like to sit around yelling at the TV, acting like they can influence the outcome of the game.”

“She’s right,” Pete said. “I’ve had girlfriends who say they’re huge sports fans, then a few months in, they want to go out when the game’s on. And if you come to a place like this, they accuse you of ignoring them.”

“Tina likes sports,” Vinnie said.

Tina nodded. “I do. I grew up in a house with four brothers and played every sport I could in high school. I don’t yell at the TV, though.”

“Oh!” Jake hollered. “Look at that hit! Go three, go three.” The batter rounded the bases, making it to third seconds before the baseman caught the ball. Jake inclined his head to me, though his gaze remained on the TV screen. “See, if the Rockies win, I have to buy. If the Yankees win, they have to pay.” He raised his voice, glancing around the table. “What are we up to now? Like, three in a row?”

The other guys complained and grumbled. I sat there, listening to them discuss the best teams, thinking about my no-sports-fanatics rule.

How do I know if Jake’s just your average fan or the guy who can’t miss a game? And how much does it matter, since I can’t stop breaking my rules with him anyway?

A few minutes later, a heated debate about pitchers broke out. None of them could agree who was the best, and they all had strong opinions about it.

Jake nudged me. “Care to weigh in?”

“My favorite pitcher is glass,” I said. “I got it at Pottery Barn. It’s handblown—kind of like what Tina does, but not as colorful. I especially like it when it’s full of something to drink.”

Jake shook his head, but he was smiling. “Pretty funny. Since you don’t really care, just say Mariano Rivera. The guy’s won five World Series with the Yankees and is one of the best closers of all time. Isn’t that impressive?”

I put my hand on his neck and ran my fingers through the ends of his hair. “Next time I can’t fall asleep, I’m going to call you and have you tell me baseball stats. I’m sure I’ll be asleep in no time.”

Adam jumped up, rocking the table. “Look at that! He’s out.” He pointed at Jake. “So much for your big hitter.”

The trash talk started up again, barely settling down when the waitress brought a giant platter of wings, fries, and onion rings.

I sat back and ate, watching everyone else get really into the game. Every now and then Jake would smile at me, squeeze my thigh, give me a quick kiss, or ask how I was doing. The bustle of the place, the way the guys got so into the game—I was actually enjoying watching it all unfold.

“That’s game,” Jake said as both teams came onto the field. “Sorry, suckers. Maybe next year.”

Pete, Vinnie, and Adam frowned and hung their heads like they’d had something to do with the loss.

Adam tossed a napkin onto his plate. “I’m so sick of losing. Maybe I’ll just jump on the bandwagon and switch teams.”

As they argued the strategy needed for the Rockies to start winning, Jake took the black binder holding the check, put several bills into it, and held it out low for the waitress as she walked by. He gave me a quick peck on the lips. “Hope that wasn’t too boring.”

“I had a good time,” I said. “It’s been a while since I’ve been around crazy sports enthusiasts. And I forgot how good an entire meal of fried stuff could be.”

He laced his fingers with mine. “Ready to go?”

He’d paid the bill even though his team had won, and now he was going to sneak away before his friends found out. Steph was right. I was an idiot for not holding on to him.

Jake helped me to my feet and wrapped his arm around me. “See you guys later. Ball on Saturday morning, right?”

I waved. “It was nice meeting you all.”

Earlier I’d been prepared to give my speech about not getting too involved; walking out of the restaurant with Jake’s arm around me, I was sure it was way too late.