The last time he’d seen that bright red Porsche, it had been parked at Stars headquarters.

Annabelle trudged into the kitchen. Dean was sitting at the table, a Coke in one hand, a deck of cards in the other. “It’s your deal,” he said.

“I don’t feel like playing anymore.”

“You’re no fun tonight.” He tossed down the cards.

“Like you’re a barrel of laughs?” Kevin had sprained an ankle in Sunday’s game, so Dean had taken over in the second quarter and thrown four interceptions before the final whistle. The press was all over him, which was why he’d decided to hide out at her place for a while.

Water dripped from the sink faucet, its irritating plunk plunk getting on her nerves. She’d known Delaney and Heath would be a match. The enticing combination of Delaney’s appearance, her tomboyish athleticism, and her impeccable pedigree had predictably knocked Heath off his feet. And Delaney’d always had a weakness for macho men.

Annabelle had met Delaney twenty-one years ago at summer camp, and they’d become best friends, even though Delaney was two years younger. After their camp days had ended, they’d seen less of each other, mainly meeting in Chicago when Annabelle had visited Nana. During college, they’d drifted apart, only to reconnect a few years ago. Now they met every few months for lunch, no longer best friends, but friendly acquaintances with a shared history. For weeks now, Annabelle had been thinking about how perfect Delaney and Heath were for each other, so why had she waited so long to introduce them?

Because she’d known how perfect they’d be for each other.

She gazed over at Dean, who was tossing popcorn kernels in the air and catching them in his mouth. If only his passing game had been as accurate. She turned off the dripping faucet then slumped down at the table, a kindred soul in depression.

The refrigerator’s compressor clicked off, and the kitchen fell quiet except for the ticktock of the daisy wall clock and the soft plop of popcorn finding its target.

“Do you want to make out?” she said glumly.

He coughed up a kernel. “No!”

“You don’t have to look so outraged.”

His chair banged back down on all four legs. “It’d be like making out with my sister.”

“You haven’t got a sister.”

“No, but I’ve got an imagination.”

“Fine. I didn’t want to anyway. I was just making conversation.”

“You were just trying to distract yourself because you’ve fallen in love with the wrong guy.”

“You’re so full of it.”

“I heard Heath’s voice at the door.”

“Business.”

“Whatever gets you through the day.” He pushed the popcorn bowl back from the edge of the table. “I’m glad you didn’t let him in. It’s bad enough having Bodie tail me. He won’t give up.”

“It’s been over two months. I can’t believe you still haven’t found an agent. Or have you? No, never mind, I’d just tell Heath, and I don’t want to be in the middle.”