The Lucky in Love Collection - Lauren Blakely Page 0,19

to the pitcher’s mound. Instead, I moved on, since the world only spins forward.

When I was a kid and my pops asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always had two answers—ballplayer and a fireman.

I always wanted both.

I’d done all I could on the first one, saved some good money from that year in the show, and it was time to head into career number two.

I’ve had no regrets—I’ve loved being a firefighter just as much.

Don’t look back.

Take your chances.

Go for it.

I need to fucking go for it with Arden, even if it means blowing out my shoulder.

The trouble is, in this analogy the shoulder is our friendship, and I honestly don’t want to see it blow up.

But that’s the chance I have to take.

She’s the woman I can’t get out of my head.

She’s no Darla. She’s no hairstylist. She’s the one I want for more than a one-and-done date. I want more than a casual thing with her.

I want all in.

“Pops, when you met Nana, did you know right away you wanted to take her out?”

My grandpa scrunches his forehead like it hurts him to think. In some ways, I suppose it does.

“I knew I wanted her to type memos for me,” he says, then winks, and that makes me happy, his awareness.

I laugh, patting his arm. “You old fox, falling for your secretary.”

He shrugs as if to say what can you do? “Emily could write memos like nobody’s business, Gabe.”

I smile, loving days like today when he’s here, fully present, remembering. “So you went for it?”

“Do I look like a fool?”

“No, sir. You do not.”

Nor do I want to look like one.

Tonight, I resolve to bowl a game with the guys like I promised, find a way to get Arden the hell out of the bowling alley, and let her know I want to take her out.

Again and again.

When I exit Pops’s suite, I glance down the hall, peering left and right. I breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t see Darla.

But that’s stupid.

It’s not like she’s going to ambush me with tears or rage. Hell, we went on one date. That was all. Sure, she wanted another and said as much, but I wasn’t feeling it, so I said thanks but no thanks.

I have to deal with running into her, if it happens.

And when I reach the main floor, it does. She’s turning the corner, heading straight toward me.

She lifts her chin proudly. “Hello, Gabe.”

“Hello, Darla.”

She walks past me, looking straight ahead with a cold, stony-faced, I-don’t-even-notice-you stare, and I make my way to the parking lot, ready to move on. No more ladies’ man.

I’d like to be a one-woman man.

12

Arden

I survey the scene at Pin-Up Lanes. Retro tunes play overhead, and a stream of people smile and toast, having a good time.

My friend Finley from the next town over is here, and she and her new guy Tom are bowling. I stroll by her lane, tapping her on the shoulder after she finishes her turn.

“Hey, you. How’s your show going?” Finley’s a TV comedy writer.

“I have more than one hundred viewers, so I'd say it’s going better than my last show,” she says, her light blue eyes twinkling.

“Oh, please. I’m sure you had more than that.”

“I wouldn't be too sure about that,” she says dryly.

“Well, I’m glad the new one is doing better then.” I tip my forehead in Tom’s direction. “And how’s the new man?”

Her grin is infectious. “He makes me laugh and he makes me happy. And, well, I kind of can’t take my hands off him.”

I smile. “I suppose that’s how it should be.”

“I’m a big advocate of wanting to get your hands on the man you like.”

We catch up briefly on her life, when Tom comes over after taking his turn. He pecks a kiss on her cheek and says hello.

“You guys look like you’re having fun, so I’ll let you keep it up.”

I wander past the crowds, and find Vanessa at the bar.

“I’d say your Celebrate Summer Party is a huge hit,” I tell Vanessa from my perch at the bar, as I scan the crowd for Gabe. My purse is in Vanessa’s back room. My list is tucked safely inside a book in the bag. My plan is solid.

“Thank you. I’m pretty damn proud of this event, myself. Can’t believe I pulled it off.”

“I can. You’re kickass at everything you do. Do I need to remind you of how we used to wander past