He could understand Michael Oher of Blind Side fame, but Jake squelched the urge to ponder the obvious: Why not me? Instead, he used this oversight as further fuel to distance himself from the woman who’d haunted his dreams since the day he’d laid eyes on her.

“What does she look like?” Harold asked.

“Not my type at all,” Jake quickly replied. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s fine, but she’s a big girl, wears her hair natural...”

“Oh, so she’s not the silicone-injected, weave-wearing babe with whom you mostly keep company?”

“That’s a low blow, bro.”

Harold chuckled. “Maybe, but remember I’ve met more than one of your bimbo attractions. Need I remind you about the chick you brought to Mama’s seventieth birthday party who came to the pool—”

“In a thong,” Jake sighed. “No, you didn’t have to remind me about something that I’d thankfully almost forgotten. Those women all knew the score, that it was just a casual dalliance, nothing more.”

“But Dominique isn’t casual, is she?” When Jake didn’t answer, Harold continued. “Look, man, Robin was a wonderful woman, but it’s been almost five years. If you’re trying to find someone like her...”

“I’m not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. What Robin and I had was special and will always be very dear to my heart. But the last thing she’d want is for me to go through the rest of my life alone and unhappy. I loved her, and I’ve grieved her, but it’s time to move on.”

“Well, that said,” Harold continued, “maybe you’ve finally met the woman with whom you can move on.”

18

18

“Ooh, girl, I don’t know about this sports stuff.” Reggie adjusted the shoestring tie that he’d apparently decided to bring back into fashion all by his lonesome and swiped nonexistent dirt off of his duly purchased cowboy boots before exiting Dominique’s car. “I might get so excited that I break a nail.”

Dominique laughed. “You’re too much drama, Reggie. Remember, this is the grade-school league, not the NFL. I think your nails will be just fine.”

Reggie commented on everybody and everything as the two navigated the steady stream of parents, students, and neighborhood Hurricanes supporters filing into the stadium for the third game of the season. Dominique was appreciative of Reggie’s constant chatter. It kept her mind from being continually focused on seeing Jake for the first time since the previous weekend’s lovefest.

As they reached the bleachers, Reggie poked Dominique in the side. “Miss Dom, please tell me what that child is wearing.”

Dominique’s eyes immediately went to the woman who’d captured Reggie’s attention. She was hard to miss, dressed in white skintight pants, body-hugging top, and thigh-high boots. She looked dressed more for an eighties throwback party than an elementary school sporting event.