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She leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry, Skyler. If your hands are half as good with this egg as they were the last time they were on me, we’re going to do just fine.” I was left to pick up my jaw as she sashayed after Kip onto the egg battlefield, her ass looking simply magnificent, her legs beneath the dress toned and perfect. My mouth watered, and it had nothing to do with the food. Why was the world keeping me from what I wanted to do so very badly? I imagined what she sounded like when she came, and my whole body experienced a toe-curling shiver.

It turned out I wasn’t awful at egg catching and throwing. I thanked my mother for suggesting softball as a way to meet people when I was a third grader. Not only had I met my best childhood friend—Brittany Minor, who now sold Mary Kay and drove a pink Cadillac—but I now had advanced hand–eye coordination that helped me impress San Diego’s beloved anchorwoman who I’d been kissing in dark, small spaces. A win.

“Everyone, take another step back,” Kristin said into her portable microphone. She was serving as the contest manager and took her job very seriously. Blond hair pulled back and shorts-top combo that showed off the fact that she was a runner. The four remaining teams, which included Carrie and me, did as we were told. “And…throw.”

With a deep breath, I tossed the egg, making sure to give it a goodconservative arc that would allow Carrie to catch it with soft hands. Nothing out of control. Next to me, Rory threw his egg with a little too much gusto, and Kip paid for it with yolk splattered all over his arms. “My bad,” Rory yelled. They exited the field. Another one down.

We pressed on. Carrie threw the egg to me as my heart thudded. Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Micky break free from Lucy’s grip and come barreling toward me, leash trailing. By the time my gaze flitted back to Carrie, the egg was well on its way to my chest and with a sickening thud landed on my collarbone and splattered across my chest and upper arms. Micky was now at my ankles, celebrating our reunion with a few vertical springs.

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy said, arriving moments after him. “He took off like a shot when he finally located you.”

Carrie was in front of me next. She took in the eggy scene with a grimace. “Oh no. Look at you. I’m so sorry.”

I held up a hand. “No, I am. I lost focus.”

“No,Iam,” Lucy insisted. “I made you lose it.”

We laughed as Kristin looked on. “When you three are done, I’ll kindly ask you to exit the field.”

“Let them stay,” Lucy argued with her girlfriend, hands on hips. “Totally my fault for unleashing an adorable dog on them. I cry for mercy upon this innocent team.”

“The judge’s ruling is nope.” Kristin dropped the mic to her side. “But you look cute asking.”

Lucy offered an imaginary curtsy to the side of her shorts and fired back a wink. We left the field and looked on as two of the marketing assistants took the win and a gift certificate for admission for two to the nearby movie theater, complete with a built-in snack budget.

“That could have been us,” I said somberly to Carrie. “Free snacks. We have to pay for them.”

“I don’t know how we’ll recover,” she said, handing me another handful of paper towels. “And I’m really sorry about the shirt. I’ve been admiring it on you all afternoon.” I glanced down at the tragedy. My shirt was temporarily ruined, but because I worked on a variety of unpredictable stories, I always traveled with a change of clothes.

“Not to worry. Back in a few.”

“I’ll keep my best friend safe while you’re gone,” she said, scooping up Micky, ruiner of egg tosses, and peppering him with more kisses. He looked at me gleefully. I glared back, jealous and not afraid to show it. “We’ll be just fine.”

“Mm-hmm.”

When I returned, the margarita truck had arrived, and Carrie had secured frozen drinks for both of us. “I took the liberty,” she said. “You and a straw sounded kinda fun.”

“You did good.” It was getting warmer out as the sun moved lower in the sky. The frozen margarita felt cool on my tongue and lowered my body temperature. Heaven-sent, like everything about this day. The fun, flirtatious vibe that bounced between us was the kind of drug I urgently craved. The bonding with my new coworkers had me feeling victorious, and to top it off, Michelangelo was a hit. Especially with the person who mattered most. Egg-bombing aside, this was shaping up to be my day.

“What are you doing after this?” Carrie said and sucked ever so gently from her margarita straw. I now saw her point about these things. Holy hell. Heaven help me.

“I have no plans that I can think of.” My eyes were still on her lips and the way they worked that straw.

We were alone. That hadn’t happened a lot today. “I was just remarking to myself—you’ve seen my place, but I’ve never seen yours.”

“You were remarking?” I loved the way she constructed sentences. My center went tight, and I shifted, ordering myself to stop that.

“I was. I was doing that. Thoughts?” Her eyes sparkled, and my heart rate sped up.

“I think your proposal is the best idea I’ve heard today.” It had been a long afternoon, and the sun had almost disappeared behind the trees. I imagined us relaxing on the couch together. Maybe opening a bottle of wine. Her go-to. Maybe my hands had a way of wandering to her thigh. I looked around. About half the crowd had already left. “I think it would be okay if we left now.”

“I’ll follow you this time.Yourshadow.”

I smiled. “We have a theme.”

“It works.”

I led the way home with Carrie following not far behind. I met her on the sidewalk out front, nervous energy abounding. “Disclaimer. There’s no incredible landscaping on the way in, and it’s not a deceptively huge apartment. No false walls or big rooms hiding in the back.”

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