Or more accurately, a single-wide in south Georgia. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Nope, if they’d been a real family, it’d have been fine. But Holly’s mom had always blamed Holly for her problems, and Holly in turn had blamed her mother for . . . everything.

They’d never been a real family.

Talk about being tied down. Poverty was the worst of ties. The memories were harsh, but Holly had raised herself and gotten out. The days of being so poor she couldn’t pay attention were over.

And yes, maybe now she was a little tough, a little jaded, and a whole lot mistrustful, but she had her morals firmly in place, instincts honed sharp.

Which is how she screwed up enough courage to call Tommy.

“Finally,” he grumbled. “I was getting ready to send out a search party. You don’t return calls now?”

“I’m sorry. I need to talk to you.”

“Well, I need to talk to you, too, doll. I need you to get me your article ASAP. I’m running it tomorrow.”

“It’s not due until Monday.”

“I know, but Alicia crapped out on me and now I have a spot to fill. You’re it.”

“I need some more time.”

“What do you mean you need more time?”

“Actually,” she said with a glance at her blank screen, “I need to change subjects. I’m thinking ice dancing.”

He laughed good and hard. “Oh no you don’t.”

He had no idea. She had to change subjects—she’d kissed hers! “I have a little conflict of interest.” A six foot two conflict of interest . . .

“Huh?”

Tommy had given Holly a chance when no one else would, so she felt she owed him for that, and she gave him the truth that meant so much to her. “It’s possible that I’m developing a very small . . .”

“Zit? Parasite? What?”

“Crush. On one of the players.”

“So?”

“So . . .” The last time she’d dated someone related to her work, it had ended badly. Very badly. So badly Alex was probably still wishing her dead, and she was still wishing she’d never faked an orgasm for him.

She didn’t intend to date Pace, or to kiss him again for that matter, but she had to face one fact. “It’ll be hard to be objective.”

“I’m not paying you to be objective,” Tommy said. “This isn’t a series about baseball facts. This is a personal commentary. Your opinion matters, so if you’re getting close to them, then so much the better. And hey, I hear the players all do tons of charity work with kids. Get me pics of that, pronto. It’ll go good alongside whatever tough-hitting stuff you write. We’ll tug on the heartstrings, then rip out their guts.”

“You are one sick man, Tommy.”

“I know it. Now send me the damn article.”