“No,” Pace said. “Not fun. It’s nearly . . .” He looked at his phone. “Shit, it’s three and I have a six o’clock flight with the Heat.” He sighed. “We’re all going straight to sleep.” He slid a frustrated look to Holly. He’d had other plans for those few hours. “I’ll be gone when you wake up, I’ll have a driver take you home whenever you’re ready. The boys, too.”

“Ah, man,” River grumbled.

“After each of you call your parents.”

“Ah, man,” River repeated.

Exactly how Pace felt as he drove to his house with Holly in that hot dress that was not going to be coming off for him tonight. In his driveway, he turned off his car just as Chipper thrust his head between the front bucket seats. “So are you two back together?”

Holly shook her head as they all got out of the car.

Chipper looked at Pace as he unlocked the door. “Why not? You have someone else on deck? Is that it?”

“No.” Jesus. “Look, Holly and I—”

“You balk?” Chipper asked right over him as they entered the house. “Or quick pitch?”

Pace didn’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed that the kid was using pitching terms to ask how he’d managed to screw up a sure thing. He grabbed blankets and pillows and tossed them to the boys, pointing to the huge U-shaped couch in his den that would comfortably sleep them all. “Call your mothers while I walk Holly to her room.”

“You two had a shutout going,” Chipper said. “I saw it. Everyone saw it.”

Pace reached for Holly’s hand and offered a smile. “Yeah.”

She didn’t return the smile, but she did entwine her fingers in his. She was confused, he knew. She didn’t know how he felt about her. He was reading that loud and clear, but until now, until this very moment, so close he could see her heart and soul reflected in her eyes, he honestly hadn’t known.

“Holly,” Chipper said earnestly. “Pace is the best guy I know. Whatever he’s done, maybe you could give him another chance. Heck, even fly ball pitchers get another chance.”

That made her smile, but it was a sober one. “It wasn’t him, Chipper,” she said with quiet grace. “It was me. I screwed up. I . . .” She searched for a term. “Threw a quick pitch.”

Watching her try to explain to the kid what had happened in terms he’d understand, without going into more detail than he needed, cemented it for Pace. She was truly one of a kind, the most amazing, caring, passionate woman he’d ever met.

She started down the hall.

“Dude, don’t let her go to bed sad,” Chipper whispered.

“Working on that,” Pace said, pointing at him. “Call your moms. I mean it.”

“If it’s a homer, I get credit for the assist, right?”