She kept busy. She still owed Tommy one more article on her baseball series, and needed to be working up her next series idea, but she was so unsettled and unsure. She couldn’t concentrate on anything. She knew that the guys were still pissed at her, leaving her in a state of . . . suspension. As for Pace, she was even more uncertain. He’d wanted to talk, she just didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

“Get a kitten,” was Allie’s suggestion when Holly called.

“A kitten? Are you crazy?” Holly looked around her leased condo. “This isn’t even my place.”

“Sure it is,” Allie said calmly. “You’re happy there. You love Santa Barbara. You love the people. You love it all.”

“I’ve screwed it all up.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Holly opened the sliding back door of the condo and looked out at the Santa Ynez Mountains, the glorious, craggily, beautiful peaks that made her sigh every time she caught a glimpse. She did love it here. So much.

“Get yourself a kitten,” Allie said again. “Make plans. Stick around awhile. Just try it, Hol. There’s more to you than being an investigative secret hound.”

“Yeah.” For the next few days, she thought about little else, especially as the Heat lost four more games in a row.

The press was still clobbering the team. She hadn’t gotten any more death threats, but neither had anyone from the team spoken to her. On the morning of the Heat’s first home game in ten days, and also the poker night event, Holly got up early. The guys had probably gotten home late and she wasn’t sure what that meant for her, having them back in town. They were only going to be in Santa Barbara for one day, and then they were off again on another road trip.

One day.

Having no idea what the day would bring, she killed some time in the grocery store getting some comfort food. On impulse she grabbed a cute little plant from the garden aisle.

Not exactly a kitten, but hey, it was alive.

She went back to her condo, set the plant next to her laptop on her kitchen/office table and opened Word. She looked at her next article—or the blank page masquerading as her next article. Giving up, she closed the document and opened iPhoto instead. The first picture that came up was of her and Pace back in Atlanta. The Heat had just won. Holly was up against Pace, all snuggled in like she belonged there, and he was grinning down at her with an abundance of emotion in his eyes.

Throat tight, she hit Print, then leaned the photo up against the plant. Her own little corner of home, she decided, and forced herself to go back to her Word program.