“Okay, so remember three things,” Felicity says as I curl a remaining section of hair. “Be confident in your flirting. Don’t get too comfortable too quickly—but don’t act detached either,” she quickly adds. “And assume he’s dating other people.” She pushes her hair back, tucking it behind an ear. “I don’t ever remember wondering if Dan was dating other women.” She scrunches her face with thought. “This makes me feel really old.”

“You did,” I remind her. “But I’ve decided I’m not even going to look at this as a date. Instead, I’m going to consider this another experience for myself.”

She tilts her head back and dramatically rolls her eyes. “It’s a date. Learn to accept that, and this will be much easier.”

I give her a sidelong stare, not bothering to argue.

“You shaved your legs, right? I mean, just in case…”

“No!” I cry. “I’m not preparing myself for a date, let alone for sleeping with him. I barely know him.”

“It sounds like sex happens much sooner when you’re an adult versus a teenager. Apparently, strong sexual chemistry is a high priority.”

“That says a lot for humanity and why I have so many repeat customers planning weddings.”

Felicity’s lips teeter, fighting a smile. “You need to get going so you’re not late,” Felicity says, glancing at her phone. “Are you ready?”

I take a final look at my reflection, smoothing my dark-blond hair a couple of times before Felicity bats my hand away.

“Stop. You look great.” She reaches for the vanity and hands me the tube of lipstick I applied. “Hairy legs and all.”

I roll my eyes and snatch the makeup from her. My nerves are frayed. Since I’ve never been to a baseball game, or any professional sporting event for that matter, Felicity and I had taken to the internet and were able to make quick and decisive decisions as we flipped through my closet, agreeing on a pair of torn skinny jeans, a lightweight lavender sweater, and a pair of black ballet flats that come to a point at the toe.

I suck in a deep breath and face Felicity. “Is it too soon for me to be dating?”

“No.” Her tone is level but firm, her gaze intense. “I’m pretty sure it’s about five years too late.”

With her hands on my shoulders, we descend the stairs and cross the foyer, going straight outside and to my car. “Text me,” she says. “If anything feels weird or if you feel uncomfortable.” She pulls something dark from the pocket of her sweatshirt and hands it to me.

“What’s this?”

“Mace.”

“Because you want to ensure I’ll make a lasting impression?”

Felicity folds her hand over mine. “There’s also a whistle. If you feel threatened, you spray him with the mace and blow your whistle.”

“Are you serious?”

“Aim for the eyes.”

“Is this another rule for dating?”

She shoos me.

“Now you’re worried about me being late?”

She grins. “You should be carrying those things with you anyway. Now, have fun, be safe, and don’t forget to touch base with me so I don’t have to send security out looking for you.”

“You’re going to make this date flawless, aren’t you?”

“At least you’re admitting it’s a date.” She smiles and slams my car door shut before I can object. She retreats back to the front door, turning to wave good-bye.

The thirty-minute drive to where I’m meeting Levi is spent with the muscles in my hands strained, gripping the steering wheel so tight my fingers ache. The bar is a large stone building, and like most places in Chicago, the parking lot is small, but luck is on my side and I’m able to find a single spot.

I get out of the car, and the wind pulls my hair in front of my face. It’s as though Mother Nature knows I spent a full hour blow-drying, straightening, and curling it just so she could show me how quickly she can mess it up.

The bar is packed, the noise level so high it’s nearly overwhelming as I step out of the way of the doors and peer around. It’s instantly apparent Levi is a White Sox fan. Half the people in attendance are wearing Sox jerseys; many others have painted their faces.

I scan the crowds, trying to remember if I can recall exactly what Levi looked like. It was only two days ago that we met, but as I stand here, likely looking like a sore thumb, I wonder if I’m remembering him correctly or if the dark club and unease with the situation fabricated part of that evening.

“Brooke!” I glance to my left and see the same golden hair and bright-blue eyes that seem to hold a myriad of emotions—all of them positive and humorous. He makes his way to me, his smile widening. “I was convinced you’d show up wearing blue.”

A grin consumes my features. The reaction both involuntary and immediate. “Believe me, I considered it.”

His responding smile makes my lips tip higher. “I believe it. How are you?”

I nod. “I’m excited for my first baseball game! How are you?”

He tilts his chin up, the movement fractional but a clear indication my answer makes him happy. “This is nothing. Just wait.”

“Do you come here before every home game?”

He shakes his head. “No, but it’s always a fun stop before a game as long as you scope it out and know who to avoid.”

“Who do we avoid?” I ask, looking around the crowded space again.

Levi steps closer to me, dropping his face next to mine. “See those guys at the bar eating wings?”

It’s difficult to focus on much aside from how good he smells and how his voice makes something in my belly curl. I track the people sitting at the bar, though, and notice two men sitting with baskets of wings in front of them and nod.

“They’ve been ranting about the coaches and the players and the weather and everything else for the past fifteen minutes. People like that are total buzzkills, and it’s not uncommon fights break out because of them.” He turns his head, surveying the rest of the bar before pointing to the far end where there’s a table of guys with hats and jerseys deep in a conversation as they listen to the pregame show. “You’ve got the diehard fans over there. They can be total assholes and like to compete with their knowledge of the game.” He gestures to a table of women dressed in tight, low-cut T-shirts, numbers painted on their cheeks. “I’m betting you can guess what they’re here for…” I look at him, but he nods toward a group of guys who are eyeing the same women he just drew my attention to. “And those guys are here strictly for those women,” he confirms.

“Levi!” the bartender, a stout older man with a couple of inches of wiry gray beard, shouts and then yells Levi’s name again while waving an arm.

Levi straightens, his hand falling to my back. His touch is as warm as it was the first time, feeling like an outline will surely be left behind. He leads us to the bar, never dodging or moving out of the way of the others who move instead. The bartender wipes at the bar and then pounds it with an open palm. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this afternoon. Someone finally managed to drag you out of your office, huh?” His brown gaze shifts to me, and his arms cross over his broad chest, a smile tickling his lips. “You’ve managed to achieve something I haven’t been able to in nearly a year.”

Heat rises to my cheeks, and I work to recall the dating tips Felicity had read off to me while I was getting ready. They’re all jumbled in the recesses of my mind, keywords like “smile,” “attentive,” “laugh,” and “eye contact” are bouncing off each other with cryptic details. “He’s actually doing this as a favor to me,” I tell him.

The bartender leans forward. “You’ve got to be louder than that in here, honey. This place is a zoo, and it’ll only get louder.”

“She said she’s cuter than you.” The bass of Levi’s voice makes him easily heard, and the bartender chuckles while my face gets hotter.

“You’ve got me in spades there, that’s for sure.” He looks me over again. “He better not have convinced you to date him with his risotto recipe”—his eyes travel to Levi—“because that’s my recipe.”

“You’re getting more senile every year.” Levi shakes his head once, but a warm and genuine smile curves his lips. “Brooke, this is Jerry. Jerry, this is Brooke.”

Jerry grins. “Take a seat, you two. What do you want to drink? You like beer, or you want something stronger? Something to finally put some hair on that pretty chest of yours?” His eyes flash to mine. “My apologies. I was referring to his chest, not yours.”

“Yeah, yeah, you already wedged that foot of yours up there too high to salvage the conversation now, Jer.” Levi slides into the seat next to mine and then faces me. “He’s a much better bartender than he is a conversationalist. If you like mixed drinks, he has a bit of a heavy hand, but he also reaches for the good stuff.”

Jerry waves a hand in the air, dismissing Levi’s words. “Do you like breakfast drinks? Fruity drinks? Those blue … whatever they’re called?”

“I just got done trying to tell her you’re a great bartender, then you say something like that where you sound completely inept.”

Jerry waves him off again, keeping his attention on me.

“I’d love a mai tai, please.”

Jerry nods, then looks to Levi. “Snakebite?”

Levi nods, and Jerry disappears to start our drinks.

The noises of the bar allow a slight distraction from the silence between us, but there’s a niggling feeling in my chest that’s been absent for several years. I wonder if this is why Gabe and I stopped going out together or if this sensation is caused because Levi and I are relatively strangers still.

I take a deep breath and turn my shoulders so my upper body faces him. “That’s a shame work keeps you from being able to come to the games.”

Blue eyes dance between mine, exposing a thousand thoughts yet not revealing a single one. “I’ve been very lucky. Growing up, my grandfather took me to every home game. It’s just these past couple of years have gotten pretty busy with work. I’ve had to reprioritize.” He shrugs. “I still catch them on TV, but it’ll be nice to be back in the stadium. There’s nothing quite like a live audience, and with it being early in the season and a rivalry game, the stands will be packed and the energy level will be like a living beast—constantly ready to attack.”

“So, what you’re telling me is this won’t be a safe place to form an unbiased opinion?”

He leans forward, his lips sliding into a grin. “I’m telling you there’s no way you’re going to walk out of the stadium today without being a White Sox. If the team doesn’t convince you, the audience will. We’re like a family, and I’m not referring to the relatives you only see twice a year that you have to prepare conversation topics and steel a smile for. No, these guys are the people you don’t mind stopping over unexpectedly and you invite them to stay longer and have another beer.”

“Except for those few you pointed out, of course.”

Mischief blazes in his eyes. “There are a few others as well. Wait until you meet a couple of the huggers.”

“The huggers?”

Levi nods but doesn’t answer as Jerry slides two drinks to us. “You kids want some food before you go, or you going to go broke buying some hot dogs at the game?”

“Hot dogs are part of the experience, you old cheapskate. You have to eat a hot dog while you watch baseball.”

Jerry’s bushy, gray eyebrows inch together and rise with a silent look of disbelief before he looks to me. “You want anything, honey, or are you wanting to get an overboiled hot dog, too?”

“I appreciate it, but I’m good.”

“I should start selling hot dogs for ten bucks…” Jerry mumbles, ambling down the bar when a man with a face painted in blue and white yells to get his attention.

Levi shakes his head and turns to me. “So, tell me what it was like to live in the shadow of Illinois your whole life.” His arrogant smile and bright eyes confirm he’s joking.

“You’re going to get a real kick out of hearing I didn’t visit Chicago until I was sixteen and went for a school field trip.”

“Sixteen! How’s that possible?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “My grandma raised me, and if you knew her, you wouldn’t be asking.” I reach for my glass but don’t take a drink. “She doesn’t like cities or crowded spaces. She won’t even leave her house after three because she doesn’t want to deal with people. She manages to convince herself she still lives in a farm town by sticking to her house and working in her garden.”

Levi grins. “Was it just you and her?”

I shake my head, taking a long pull of my drink. He wasn’t lying—Jerry has a heavy hand. “I have a brother who’s seven years younger than me.”

“Does he live local?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “He’s actually like ten minutes from where Grammy … our grandma,” I correct myself, “lives.”

“Are you guys close?”

“Close-ish,” I say. “What about you? Do you have siblings?”

He grins. “I have a younger brother, too.” Levi takes a long drink.

“Are you guys close?” I ask, recycling his question.

Levi shrugs. “Close-ish.”

I laugh. “Are you mocking me?”

He takes another drink. “No. But it seems like poor taste to mention he has a tendency to be a selfish asshole and generally annoys the hell out of me.”

“Vague-booking.” My tone sounds like I’ve come to a revelation, and it’s clear Levi hears it. He tilts his chin, and his lips curve with a smile so wide I see all of his teeth.

“What does that mean?”

I clear my throat, changing my tone to express less. “Nothing.” I shake my head as though to dispel the possibility it might.

Levi stares at me, his gaze once again intense and penetrating—as though he can hear my thoughts and how quickly I’m working to backpedal from the conversation.

However, my last relationship taught me how secrets—even those from omissions—lead to nothing positive. “I just…” A small, uneven laugh blows through my lips, breaking the tension. “After being in a relationship for so long, I’m really out of practice with how things work—the proper etiquette, if you will.”

He continues looking at me, and for some reason, words and revelations keep coming.

“I’ve had the same best friend since I was five and the same job for ten years.” I shrug. “Outside of a professional setting, I’m not really in the habit of meeting new people, so this is a bit outside of my norm.”

“I like your honesty.” His blue eyes hold mine. “It’s what made me stick around and talk to you at the club and why I’d wished I’d been smoother—smarter—and had gotten your number, because I was really worried you wouldn’t call.”

My heart makes a lap on a merry-go-round, the old-fashioned kind you rarely find on playgrounds anymore with the metal bars you hold onto while someone pushes the contraption around in circles. Levi is the one pushing, and I’m struggling to find my footing, worried I’m going to fall off at any moment.

“I’ll tell you what a dipshit my brother is if you want to hear the details, but I’d rather save them for another time. Another date.”