Luckily, Miranda laughs. “I totally get it, you know. Not only is Buzz a handful, the entire group out there can be a bit much. But give it a bit of time and you’ll find Buzz is actually a softie, and the group is very loyal once they get to know you.”

“Buzz is a softie?” That’s not exactly the word I’d use to describe him. Then again, she’s known him longer than I have.

“Yes. If it weren’t for Trace, Noah and I wouldn’t be together, and we wouldn’t be here today celebrating the cohabitation with pulled pork and potato salad.”

“What do you mean, ‘if it weren’t for Trace’?”

“He was our matchmaker.” She laughs, pushing a glass of ice water across the counter toward me, popping a yellow and white striped straw into the center.

Did she say matchmaker?

“Yep.” We both look through the glass, out onto the patio, to catch Buzz Wallace doing a weird TikTok dance, arms in the air, ass shaking. “Um…so yeah, Noah didn’t want anything to do with me after we had this horrible public relations nightmare and Buzz was the one who brought us back together by tricking him into seeing me.”

“Buzz?”

“Yes. He’s actually really romantic. I’m almost positive we’re not the only couple he’s tried to match up.” She cocks her head to the side and thinks. “Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure the security officer at the park—Karl is his name—and one of the administrative assistants are dating because of Buzz, but you’d have to ask him for sure. It could just be a rumor.”

What? I point out the window. “That guy? The one smacking his own ass right now?”

He is, smacking his own ass, doing a weird ‘back that ass up’ motion, hopping in reverse while everyone laughs.

I blush. “Oh god.”

Miranda laughs. “He really is a good guy. I don’t think he’s made good choices in the past as far as his own dating life is concerned, but honestly, not many of these guys have.”

I know what she means, but I want to hear her version of it. “What do you mean?”

“Well. I mean…okay, so, not to be mean, but see the guy next to the pool grotto? His name is Marlon, and no offense, but those girls with him are groupies and only after one thing: his money. Maybe his fame too, and they never get brought around more than once—twice if they’re lucky. More like cling-ons, and I don’t know where they come from, but they’re not long-term material. Inevitably, these guys all end up with them at some point, and Buzz has gone through his fair share, too.” She takes a sip of the water she’s already poured for herself. “Like I said, I’m not knocking those girls—they could be very nice people. All I’m saying is these guys get used, and Buzz has been no exception.”

“So you’re saying Buzz has brought groupies around?”

“Just a few.” She pauses. “To be honest, I’ve only ever seen him with one other person, and it wasn’t at a private party—it was at a nightclub. I think everyone was pretty shocked to see him show up with you today.”

Oh, I just bet they were.

“Where did y’all meet?”

I decide to be honest since she’s going to find out who my father is one way or another, and since I never plan on seeing Buzz again after today, there’s no harm in it. Anyway, Miranda seems like a really great person, and I hate lying.

“I met him at the stadium this week. He…hit on me when I was there visiting my dad, after I got off the elevator on the wrong floor.” I chug my water. “Then I bumped into him yesterday at the fundraiser, and he… Okay, real talk? I sort of briefly kind of dated Marlon Daymon last year by accident.” Miranda’s brows shoot up at that fun fact. “Marlon wouldn’t leave me alone yesterday, and Buzz must have seen him giving me a hard time, so he came over and rescued me. Pretended to be dating me so Marlon would buzz off.” Jesus, listen to me, now I’m using his name as a pun. “To do that, he invited me here—in front of Marlon—and now here we are.”

Miranda says nothing, and I squirm. Shit. Did I reveal too much? What would Buzz say?

I open my mouth to apologize, but,

“I have sooo many questions.”

“Okay.”

“First of all—does your dad work at the stadium?”

“Yes. He’s the general manager.”

The brows shoot up farther. “Does Buzz know that?”

“Yes.”

She nods. “So you’re not actually dating him?”

“No.”

Her face drops, disappointed. “But you dated Marlon?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“I’m sorry.” We both laugh, and Miranda looks outside again. “You’re sure you don’t want to date him for real? He’s a really good guy.”

“I’m sure. I’ve had my fair share of athletes for the decade. I’ve filled my quota.”