“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?”

Holly choked out a laugh. “Yeah,” she said over her shoulder as she left the living room. “You’ll get the point.”

“Sweet.” He glanced at Pace with something close to hero worship, which made Pace damned uncomfortable.

And just a little bit proud. Holly had also looked at him as if maybe he was worth something, something more than what he brought to the diamond, and between her and these kids, he felt more alive than he had for a damned long time.

“Night,” Holly called back.

“Dude,” River said in a conspirator’s whisper. “She’s walking away.”

“You’re supposed to walk her to the door and kiss her,” Chipper said in the same ear-shattering whisper. “Hurry.”

Pace caught up with her in the hallway at the door to the spare bedroom and took her hand. “Ever notice that we meet in a lot of doorways?”

“The looks on their faces about the park,” Holly murmured.

She’d set aside everything—including whatever emotions were putting those shadows in her eyes—in order to worry about the kids. If he hadn’t already been half in love with her, that would have sealed the deal.

“There’s got to be something we can do,” she said. “They need that park, Pace. And they need it fixed up.”

“I’ve got an idea for it.”

She cocked her head and studied him. “You’re in the middle of a recovery and a baseball season.”

“I have time and room for more.”

“Since when?”

“Since . . .” You. “Holly, I—”

“Pace!” Chipper yelled.

Pace ground his back teeth together. “Yeah?”

“Can we have ice cream?”

“If you call home,” he said, not taking his eyes off Holly. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “About this.”

“No worries.” She reached for the door handle.

“Wait.” He slid his fingers into her hair, tracing her jaw line with his thumb. God, he’d missed the feel of her. “You know that up until now my entire life has been nothing but one hard fastball.”

She gave a faint smile. “Now you sound like Chipper.”

“Yeah.” He let out a small smile, liking that. “What I’m saying is that I’ve rushed through my life. I’ve rushed through everything, just to play ball. I still love it, I do, I just . . .” His smile faded and he shook his head again. “After my surgery, after Red and Ty, after everything, I felt . . . a little empty. It’s made me realize how much I needed something else in my life. Something substantial.” Like her. She was substance to him. “Holly—”