Three words that describe baseball: You never know.

—Joaquin Andujar

Holly went back to her room and, pressing the ice to her hot face, called Allie. “Heading to LA seems more and more appealing every day.”

“Yay for me. To whom do I send a thank-you?”

“No one in particular.”

“Baseball stud,” she guessed. “Ah, honey, is he an ass then?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She blew out a breath. “Truthfully, I think I might be the ass.”

“Well, admitting it is half the battle.”

Holly sank to her hotel bed and laughed. “My damn head isn’t on straight and I can’t find my usual happy place, and you have me laughing.”

“You can’t find your cool, calm happy place because your heart’s involved. It’s about damn time, chica. If I was there, I’d hug him myself for that alone.”

“You’d hug him? He’s driving me crazy and you’d hug him?”

“Yes. Call me when you can admit I’m right.”

Holly closed her phone thinking that would be a cold day in hell. But knowing she needed to, she put on gloss, combed her hair, and went to the one place she’d discovered over the years that she could get an answer to any question she had.

The bar.

Wade was nursing a drink and staring off into space. Except that when she got closer, she could see he wasn’t staring into space at all but onto the dance floor, where Sam was doing some country swing thing with Henry, the both of them handling themselves with surprisingly good moves. “Hey.” Holly smiled at Wade. “You okay?”

Wade tossed back his drink. “Never better.” He gave one last long look at the hands Henry had all over Sam, shook his head, and stood. “I’m hitting the sack. You need anything before I go?”

She’d never seen him anything less than easygoing and laid-back, but what she saw in his eyes now was anything but. There was solemnness that might have stemmed from the Heat’s earlier loss, Pace’s injury, or, as she suspected, Sam doing her damnedest out there to drive him crazy. “I’m good. Wade?” she said as he began to move away. “Get some good sleep.”

With a smile that didn’t quite meet his gaze, he leaned down and kissed her cheek, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. And with one last look to the dance floor, was gone.

Holly sat next to Ty and bought them each a round. Sam stopped dancing long enough to talk Holly into helping her run the next big charity event for 4 The Kids, their upcoming Third Annual Poker Night, before hitting the dance floor again.

Ty eyed Holly over his beer, a good-looking guy with sweet eyes and a sweeter smile, and the best stats in the relief bullpen. A miracle, when she thought about the childhood leukemia he’d overcome.