“True.”

“What were you doing in Bellamy Creek, anyway, if you were trying to get to Cloverleigh Farms?”

“I saw the billboard on the highway about the best apple pie in the Midwest since 1957,” I told her, shaking my head. “Of course, now I know that pie doesn’t exist anymore, but that’s what made me turn off the road and come here.”

“So it was fate!”

I laughed as we climbed the bleachers. “You sound like your mom. It was more my sweet tooth—I love me some apple pie. I’m not even sure I believe in fate.”

“Why not?” she asked as we found seats about four rows up. The stands were surprisingly crowded—with families, couples, groups of friends. Attending old man baseball games was obviously a popular thing to do on a summer night around here.

“I like to believe we have the power to make our own destiny,” I said, tucking my dress under my thighs so it didn’t blow up in the breeze. “Otherwise, we’re just at the mercy of the stars, right? Everything decided for us? That’s no fun.”

“I guess. Oh, by the way, I was going to tell you that I know someone at Cloverleigh Farms.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Frannie Sawyer—although she got married recently, so her last name is MacAllister now—but anyway, she’s my age and I met her when I was student teaching in Traverse City a few years ago. Her family owns Cloverleigh Farms, and she owns a coffee shop downtown. Maybe she’s hiring or something? I’d be glad to pass along her contact info.”

I grabbed her arm. “Are you serious? I’d love that! Thank you so much!”

“Sure. Just don’t tell my mother I helped you leave town. She’ll disown me.”

Laughing, I drew an X on my chest with a fingertip. “Cross my heart.”

“Oh, there’s Griff.”

I looked out onto the field—and my heart danced a little. Even though he wore a ball cap, I could tell it was him from the way he filled out his Bulldogs team shirt, and it gave me a little thrill to think I know that body.

“There’s McIntyre from the garage over in the outfield. And that’s Beckett Weaver and Enzo Moretti,” Cheyenne said, pointing out two other players. “They’re two of Griff’s closest friends.”

I nodded. “I’ve met Enzo, but not Beckett.”

“He’s pretty busy this time of year. He runs a cattle ranch just north of town. Oh, and there’s Cole.” Cheyenne seemed to go a little breathless. “He’s Griffin’s best friend. And he’s a police officer. He grew up next door, and recently he moved back home with his little girl, Mariah.”

I looked at Cheyenne, and even though she wore sunglasses, I could practically see the hearts floating from her eyes as she watched Cole Mitchell warm up his pitching arm. “I met him the other night too. So are you and Cole a thing?”

“What? Cole and me a thing? No. No.” She forced a laugh. “He’s never looked at me that way.” Then a great big sigh.

“But you wish he would?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Is it that obvious?”

I laughed. “Yes.”

“Well, it’s also hopeless. I’ve had a crush on him since 1997 when he rescued all my Beanie Babies from the tree branches where Griffin had thrown them.”

“Wow. That’s a long time to crush on someone.”

“Tell me about it. I’m going on thirty and I still can’t meet a guy to take his place in my heart.”

“And he’s never known how you feel?”

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving Cole. “He had a really serious girlfriend all through high school. Then he married her.”

“I heard he lost her when Mariah was born.”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “That was so awful. I don’t know if he’ll ever get over it.”

Griffin happened to look over at the bleachers then, and automatically I lifted a hand and waved. He didn’t wave back, but he nodded, and I swore I saw him smile. The butterflies in my belly fluttered like mad.

“Did Griffin ever have a serious girlfriend?”

“Not in high school. I mean, he dated around, but he was never serious about anyone back then. His one serious relationship was later. Her name was Kayla.”

“How long were they together?”

“Gosh, maybe like five years? He was still in the Marines back then, so he was gone a lot, but I gotta admit, he was pretty devoted to her. I thought they’d get married.”

Jealousy stabbed me in the gut. After waiting what I hoped was a suitable interval, I asked, “Whatever happened with them?”

Cheyenne shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but I think she fell in love with someone else while he was deployed the last time. They broke up shortly after he came home.”

“Wow. That sucks.” And it definitely could explain Griffin’s attitude toward relationships. He’d gotten burned.

“Yeah. Griffin was a mess for a while. But he never talks about it, and you can’t ever tell him I said anything. He’d kill me.”

“I won’t,” I promised. “Did Griffin ever know about your feelings for Cole?”

“Hell no. He would have told Cole for sure, and then he would have made fun of me for the rest of my life.” She turned to me and grabbed my arm. “So you can’t tell him that either.”

“I won’t. But Cole is widowed now, right? And he lives right next door to you. Maybe you two could—”

“No.” Again, Cheyenne shook her head. “He looks at me and sees that pudgy six-year-old kid with scabby knees and a runny nose, crying over her Beanie Babies. I’ve always been more like a kid sister to him. That will never change.”

“You never know,” I told her. “I understand feeling like things are stuck a certain way, but you can surprise yourself. You can make a change. It’s scary, but you can do it.”

Just then, Cole looked up and saw us. Gave us a wave.

We waved back, and she sighed. “Maybe. But I won’t hold my breath.”

Griffin jogged over toward his team’s bench and I watched, trying not to drool as I leaned forward to get a better look.

Next to me, Cheyenne laughed. “Speaking of crushes . . .”

“What?”

“Yours is just as obvious.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. But so is his, so you’re fine.”

“You think he has a crush on me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. I go to every one of these old man baseball games, Blair, and I’ve never seen Griffin look up here once. He’s done it like twenty times already, flexing his muscles, puffing out his chest, sucking in his gut.” She imitated him in an exaggerated fashion.

“He does not have a gut!”

“Maybe not, but I could see it when you were at the house yesterday too. He looks at you a certain way. He likes you. Look at all the time he’s spending with you.”

“Yeah, but he’s sort of stuck with me.”

She shook her head. “If Griffin doesn’t want to do something, he doesn’t do it. Trust me. He’s got a thing for you.”