But they did worry. A lot.

But Ben, who rarely let anyone touch him, simply wrapped his arms around the huge dog and kept talking. “Lucille’s been pinning ideas for your wedding and inviting others to do the same.”

Jack stared at him. “What the hell is Pinterest?” he demanded.

“Hell, I’ve been on the other side of the planet in a country without running water and even I know what Pinterest is,” Ben said. “What the hell’s going on with you and Leah?”

Jack blew out a breath. “Leah told my mom we were a thing.”

“Ah.” Ben nodded like this made perfect sense. Which was good. It should make perfect sense to someone.

“I’m fucked,” Jack said.

“Yes,” Ben said. “If you’re very, very lucky.”

Jack gave him a level-eyed gaze.

Ben shrugged. “She’s smart, funny, and wears really hot shoes that make her legs look a mile long. You should’ve done her a long time ago.”

“It’s Leah,” Jack said. What the hell was wrong with everyone? Ben had been there growing up. He knew what Leah had gone through; he’d heard the yelling every night. He knew Leah had sought comfort—platonic comfort—from Jack all through his high school years. He knew that they were just friends.

Of course, what he didn’t know, couldn’t know, was how on so many of those nights that Leah had sobbed all over Jack, he’d done his best to give her what her parents wouldn’t. “Love you, Leah,” he’d whisper.

She’d clutch at him tighter. “Forever?”

“Forever,” he’d promised, always. But that had been a damn long time ago. Before she’d walked away and not looked back. “It’s not a real thing,” he said now.

“Only because you’re stupid,” Ben said.

Luke started laughing and couldn’t stop, so Jack shoved him and then sat down to exchange his running shoes for cleats. Since Luke was still cackling like a hen, he tugged his hat down lower over his eyes and stalked off toward the field.

He was first baseman, and since no one else could be bothered, he was also team captain.

And their best player. Usually.

But not today.

As he discovered the hard way, a bad mood apparently made his game shit. First he missed an easy fly ball and then a line drive. And then, to make his humiliation complete, he struck out.

Lucky Harbor enjoyed its baseball as much as he did, and the stands were full. He could see Danica on the top row. They’d talked about having drinks at her place sometime this week. He wondered if it was possible they were still on.

She waved at him.

He started to wave back, but then he saw his mom two rows below Danica. Sitting with…

Leah and her grandma.

His mom was beaming.

Jack couldn’t be sure from this distance, but he thought maybe Leah was squirming. She had good reason to squirm, since he was going to kill her later.

To make sure she knew, he pointed at her.

She slunk down a little and pretended not to see him.

From the dugout, Kevin whined. He loved Jack’s mom, and he loved Leah. Basically Kevin loved the ladies, period. But not a single woman had ever enjoyed Kevin’s way of greeting, which was a nose to the crotch.

Which is why he was tied up in the dugout.

At the top of the third inning, Luke, their catcher, called a time-out and jogged out to Jack. Ben strolled over from the pitcher’s mound.

“What?” Jack said.

“You tell us what,” Ben said.

“I suck today. So what? You two were both pussies last week. Maybe it’s just my turn.”

“You’re not usually a pussy,” Ben said. “You’re usually more like your dad.”

Solid. Steady as a rock. Never faltering, never taking a misstep.

Well, except for the one that had killed him.

“Get the hell off my plate,” Jack said.

“Touchy,” Luke noted.

“Needs a Midol,” Ben said.

They played the rest of the game with a minimum of errors, but it was too late.

They got their ass handed to them.

Afterward, they hit the Love Shack, the local bar and grill. They were halfway through a pitcher of beer and sliders when Lucille walked by and snapped a picture of Jack.

“Hey,” he said.

Lucille might be meddlesome, but she also sometimes kept Jack’s mom company when she was in treatment and he was working. “What are you up to?”

“Who, me?” She smiled and slid her dentures around some. “Nothing at all. I just needed a picture for—”

“If you say Facebook…,” he warned.

She smiled a little broader. “Ah, don’t get all alpha on me. I just wanted to put up a pic of you and Leah side by side. Unfortunately, Leah’s not nearly as accommodating as you.” She thumbed through her photo album on her phone and then showed him a picture.

Leah, flipping off the camera.

In spite of himself, Jack laughed. But he wasn’t laughing a half an hour later when he went to the bar for another pitcher for his table.

Danica was there, and he gestured for another drink for her, but she shook her head, her pretty blond hair flying.

“Hell no, I’m not having a drink with you,” she snapped with surprising venom.

Huh. Not nearly as friendly as she’d been in the stands earlier at the game. Which meant… “You heard,” he said flatly.

Her eyes were daggers. “That you’re nearly engaged? Yeah, I heard, and B-T-dub? You’re an as**ole for humiliating me like this. Consider date number three off the table.” She stood up. “Your loss, by the way, because I give great date number three.” She started to walk away, but he caught her, a little surprised by her venom since things had been so casual between them. Still, he wanted to explain so there were no hurt feelings.

“It’s not what you think, Danica,” he started. “I—”

She tossed her drink in his face.

It was a fruity white wine.

Jack hated fruity white wine. He was still wiping it from his eyes when Danica snatched her purse and sashayed her very fine body right out of the bar.

Jack turned to the table where Luke and Ben were watching with great amusement. Ben offered him a silent toast with his beer.

Luke just grinned. “Man,” he said to Jack, “she just went all cage-fighter on your ass.”

At that, Ben actually let out a rare laugh.

And happy as Jack was to hear it, he could only shake his head.

That night, unable to sleep, Leah was in her grandma’s kitchen working on her cream puff recipe, determined to figure out a way to produce them faster. She had the ingredients spread out before her when her grandma appeared in the doorway looking pleasantly round and comfortable in a big, fluffy robe that nearly swallowed her up.

“Oh,” Elsie said, sounding surprised to find Leah up. “My goodness, honey. You’re not still obsessing over making perfect cream puffs?”

“Just a little. I need to figure out how to make a larger batch and have them look as good as those from a smaller one. I can’t seem to do it.”

“But you’re not on TV now. It’s what’s on the inside, not the outside, that matters.”

“Are we still talking about cream puffs?”

Elsie smiled. “It’s a lovely night. Why aren’t you out?”

Leah laughed. “It’s Lucky Harbor. Where would I go?”

“I don’t know…the arcade, the Ferris wheel. Have a bonfire on the beach. Live a little!”

“I’m not sixteen, so the arcade is out,” Leah said wryly. “And bonfires are illegal. It’s high fire season right now.”

“It’s a sad state of affairs when a woman your age can’t find fun.”

“Baking is fun.”

“Hmm.”

From the depths of Elsie’s purse on the table came the sound of her cell phone ringing. “I’ll get it,” Elsie said, and dove on it like a woman four decades younger, snatching the phone before Leah could get a look at the caller ID screen.

“Hola,” Elsie sang sweetly, and then let out a big smile. “Why yes,” she said, sounding very happy. “Yes, it’s me.” She glanced at Leah and lowered her voice. “Call me back in five? Great.” She hung up with a sort of dreamy smile and then looked at Leah again. “You really should turn in, honey. It’s late.”

“I’m not tired yet.”

“Oh, okay. Well, then I’m going to turn in.”

“Who was that?” Leah asked.

“Hmm?”

“On the phone. Who was that?”

Elsie shook her head and pointed to her hearing aid. “Damn thing needs to be looked at, it’s not working right.” She turned away. “Night.”

When she was gone, Leah just stared at the empty doorway for a long beat. Her grandma was keeping secrets.

But then again, so was Leah. She understood the need for privacy, more than most. And until she’d left Lucky Harbor, she’d never had any privacy at all, unless she’d been here, with Elsie. Difficult as it was, Leah would give her grandma the same consideration.

The night was quiet, and she moved about the house, cleaning up from dinner, straightening out some of her grandma’s bills, switching money around to rob Peter and pay Paul, and checking email.

She had one from Rafe, offering her a “job opportunity that you can’t possibly turn down for when you’re done playing house in Mayberry.” He went on to outline what they wanted from her, which was to have her host her own reality show, following a group of fledgling pastry chefs in their final semester of school.

Anxiety knotted in Leah’s chest. Hadn’t she needed exactly this, a reason to leave town soon, for when her grandma was all better?

She hit REPLY and typed up her requirements. She wanted producing credit, and she wanted out of Lucky Harbor before the finale of Sweet Wars aired.

She stared at the email for a long time before hitting SEND. Soon as she did, her phone beeped an incoming text from Aubrey.

Holy smokes, Batgirl. Tonight’s bar incident is spreading faster than Lucille can work her phone. You do realize that you so owe Jack now, right? Like big owe. I expect details.

Leah blinked at her phone and then texted back. WTH happened to Jack at the bar? She stared at her phone, impatient for a reply that didn’t come. Giving up on waiting, she searched for Aubrey’s contact info and hit CALL. “What happened to Jack?” she asked when Aubrey answered.

Aubrey chuckled and then there came a low, male voice in the background, murmuring something she couldn’t quite catch.

“Who’s that?” Leah asked.

“I’m just leaving the bar and apparently I need an escort,” she said with careful disdain, sounding tipsy. “Even though it’s just Lucky Harbor.”

The low murmur came again, and Aubrey laughed, a little coldly. “I’m fine,” she said, presumably to her escort. “Look, I have a stun gun, and I know how to use it. Fair warning, buddy.”

“Aubrey, who is that with you?” Leah asked. “And you’re not driving, right?”

“Nope. I’m going to call for a ride—”

“I’m driving you,” the mystery male voice said, speaking low but perfectly clear, and Leah recognized it with relief.

Ben.

She relaxed, knowing Ben would take care of Aubrey whether she liked it or not. “What happened?”

“I had a real shit day,” Aubrey said. “Do you have any idea the hoops you have to jump through to start up a business? The paperwork, the permits, the fees…I needed a drink bad. Okay, two. I needed two drinks, and I might have forgotten to eat dinner. And now Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mercenary here says I’m going to let him make sure I get home okay or else.” She lowered her voice. “And I gotta be honest, that ‘or else’ is sort of making me curious—”

“I mean Jack,” Leah said. “What happened to Jack?”

“Oh. Right. Well— Hey! You keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Mercenary, jeez!”

“You nearly broke your ankle,” Leah heard Ben grate out. “Stop walking and talking at the same time.”

“Fine,” Aubrey said, and then came back to Leah. “Danica tossed her drink in Jack’s face.”

Leah gasped. “What? Why?”

“Apparently they were supposed to have date number three tonight, and according to Danica—who yelled this at Jack, by the way—everyone knows what happens on date number three. She said she wouldn’t go on a date number three with a guy who was nearly, almost, maybe engaged. And that’s when she threw the drink in his face.”

“Oh my God. No.”

“Oh yes,” Aubrey said, sounding greatly amused. There was also a male snort, as if Ben too found this very funny.

Leah did not. “Who told Danica that we were…nearly, almost engaged?”

“I don’t know.” There was a sort of murmured conversation, during which Leah assumed Aubrey was conferring with Ben. Then Aubrey was back. “Mr. Mercenary says maybe you should check the mirror.”

“I didn’t do it!” Leah said. “I didn’t tell anyone.” Except Dee, which she still felt like shit about. And Ali. And her grandma… Oh good God. “Okay, so maybe it was me, but I never said engaged! I said we were dating.”

“Yes, but this is Lucky Harbor,” Aubrey pointed out. “It’s like playing telephone. I once thought I was dating the town clerk, and it turned out he didn’t consider it ‘dating’ at all.”