“Holy shit.”

“For real.” I stare back at Madison where we sit on a wooden bench.

We’ve just finished our outdoor yoga class here in the center of the large park near the waterfront, and I started to fill her in on what happened last night between me and Knox.

I haven’t delved any deeper, nor have I divulged anything about our complicated past. Since she’d joined the F&F team two years after I had, I’d never felt a need to do so; I hadn’t thought it was pertinent information. I certainly didn’t think I’d ever be given a reason to bring it up.

Her lips curl slightly, eyes shining with humor. “Guess you didn’t tell him to namasté away.”

I shove at her playfully. “You’re hilarious.” Taking a sip of water from my thermos, I turn my attention to the various parkgoers who are jogging or walking their dogs, enjoying the early morning. “It was just a one-time thing, anyway. So no big deal.”

“Right. And it’s not going to be weird that he’s also the current owner and person in charge of your employment?”

Or that we used to do what we did last night all the time? Every chance we could? That we once talked about our own happily ever after?

Her eyes light up even more as she nudges my shoulder with hers. “You have to dish. How was it? Did it start with the whole, ‘After working so late tonight at the office, I just couldn’t get you off my mind’ kind of thing? Or did he show up at your door and shove his way inside and go all alpha male on you?”

Staring back at her, I’m not sure how to answer. “Wow.” Raising my eyebrows, I ask, “Did someone just subscribe to Showtime After Hours?”

Madison makes a derisive sound. “I need to live vicariously through someone.”

We fall silent for a moment, both of us lost in our thoughts.

I don’t know what makes me say it, but the words just spill out. “It was nice.”

My friend rears back with a horrified look. “Nice?” She shakes her head so forcefully I find myself worried that it might come off. “No. Absolutely not. Nice should never be a word that goes along with a night full of sex.”

“Well, we didn’t have a night full of sex, really…”

She shifts abruptly to face me, and folds her legs to sit cross-legged on the bench. Jabbing an index finger in my direction, she commands, “Start from the beginning, when he showed up at your door, and go from there.”

“He showed up and told me he wanted me, that he needed me. We agreed it would only be for one night.” With a wry smile, I add, “And it was only once, anyway, since we only had one condom.”

She cocks her head to the side and frowns as though she hasn’t heard me correctly. “Wait a minute. You only had one condom?”

“Right. Because I’d forgotten to buy more since I haven’t exactly had any ‘gentleman callers’ in a while. At least, not since Jeff.…” I wrinkle my nose, recalling the last guy I’d dated who’d turned out to be less than stellar.

“First of all”—Madison holds up a finger—“Jeff was a douche.” She holds up another finger. “Second, Knox didn’t have a condom with him?”

“No,” I answer hesitantly.

“Huh. Interesting.” She narrows her eyes. “Don’t you find it odd that a man of his caliber doesn’t carry protection? He’s smart and freaking hot. You know he must get serious action.”

“I guess I hadn’t thought about it.” I shrug. “I was too busy trying to survive the awkward morning-after situation with him.”

“So how did he deal with the only-one-condom thing?”

“It wasn’t a big deal. He just—” I break off and instantly feel the rush of heat flood my cheeks as I recall the way Knox had brought me to orgasm countless times throughout the night.

“Ah,” she says knowingly. “He improvised.”

Nodding, I release a sigh and bring my leg up, setting my foot on the bench and wrap my arms around my knee. “He did.”

“So how firm are you guys on it being a one-time thing?”

“Firm.” I punctuate this with a nod. Because I know it’s necessary that we never cross that line again. It’s far too risky.

“Well, I know what this calls for.”

I flash a curious glance at my friend. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Girls’ night out.”

Squinting my eyes, I give her a sharp look. “You’d better not drag me to that place in Midtown again where the guy goes around sketching people and they all basically look the same with apple cheeks.”

“He was really sweet, though!” she protests with a laugh.

“He extorted twenty bucks from us!” I remind her.

“Fine, I promise I won’t drag you there.”

“Good.”

“I have it on good authority that this new pub is a great find. And”—she leans in conspiratorially—“we can find you a guy you won’t have to worry about facing at work.”

Great. Madison has it in her head that she’s going to play matchmaker and find me a guy. The day after…yeah. So I respond the only way I possibly can.

With a vast amount of enthusiasm, of course.

“Yay.”

Whoops. Guess I failed.

* * *

“Oooh! I think I’ve found one for you.”

I’ve heard Madison claim the same thing at least five times already tonight.

I’m more interested in the preseason game and the fact that the Jags are down by six points and it’s in the final quarter. Not to mention that sack Becket took looked downright brutal. His teammate, Diego, got face-masked to hell and back, and I’m shocked his head didn’t literally snap off.

“What?!” I gasp in outrage at the television displayed above the bar where we currently sit in the new pub. At least Madison hasn’t let me down there. However, when it comes to “finding one” for me, she’s striking out.

“No, seriously, Emma Jane. This guy is freaking hot. Dark blond hair and a great smile.” Madison’s voice turns dreamy.

My eyes remain glued to the television where Becket’s currently looking for a receiver. My entire body tenses when I see him getting rushed by the defensive players, but suddenly, he darts off, and I realize all that speed work he claims has been kicking his ass is paying off. Because he’s running like the freaking wind.

“Go, Beck, go!” I chant beneath my breath. When he scores the touchdown himself, my whoop of delight is joined by the other patrons who are tuned into the game, as well.

Grabbing my phone, I quickly shoot off a text to him.

Me: You nearly gave me a heart attack with that sprint move, buddy. I’m sitting with Madison in some new pub in Midtown and cheering you on. Now, hurry up and win the game. Love you.

I know he won’t get my message for a while but I want him to know I’m watching and thinking of him.

“And wait…it looks like he has a tattoo on his arm of a…barbed wire with a skull and crossbones or something. Sexy.” Madison’s still going on about the guy she spotted, apparently.

“Oh-oh! He’s noticed us.” She leans in closer and hisses with urgency, “He’s coming over here.”

“Super.” I’m praying the Jags’s kick for the extra point doesn’t get blocked. “You can talk to him, and I’ll continue watching my best friend play football.”

Clearly not pleased with my response, Madison starts, “You’re a sad excuse for a Southern belle. You’re supposed to—”

“Well, hello, ladies.”

That voice. Oh, dear God. That voice.

I know that voice.

My eyes pinch closed with dread because if that voice belongs to who I think it does, that can only mean someone else isn’t too far behind.

“Long time no see, Emma Jane Haywood.”