I haven’t visited him in Arizona. The timing hasn’t lined up. My work schedule prepping for the next season has been insane, but Matthew and I hired the GM we wanted, and Kim is doing a fantastic job.

One evening over a late dinner, my English friend and I toast to how we’re slowly but surely winning new fans before the season even starts, thanks in part to Kim’s masterful chess play with athletes and the deals she’s inked for a new rising star tight end and a fantastic defensive lineman, among others.

“Admit it, we’re brilliant for hiring her,” I say, lifting my wineglass.

“We are the most brilliant,” Matthew quips.

“And we’re going to deliver a Super Bowl win, and then just imagine—you won’t have to take wine-and-painting classes to meet new women,” I say, before taking a drink of the chardonnay. “They’ll fling themselves at the Hawks CEO.”

He cracks up, then sets down his glass of red, his expression suddenly serious. “Maybe I won’t have to wait till then to meet someone new.”

My eyes widen. “So, does that mean Phoebe’s history officially?” I knew it was ending, winding down every day, it seemed. But I hadn’t yet heard that his relationship was on the chopping block.

“Don’t look so happy. But yes. Earlier this week she said she’d had enough, but truth be told, I had too. She hated my job. She wanted me to quit.” He sounds matter-of-fact, but I know it’s not easy.

I narrow my eyes, huffing. “I’ll never let you go.”

“You better not. Because I don’t want to go.”

“Good. I’ll just have to make it my mission to find you a fantastic new woman in this city.”

“You really think I should start dating again?” He sounds skeptical. “I was mostly joking about the wine-and-painting thing. I’d honestly just go for me.”

“I get why you wouldn’t want to date again. But I know you. You like being with someone. When it’s right, that is.”

“And how would I know if it’s right?”

I smile, answering from the heart. “If it feels too good to be true, but it’s completely true.”

“Sounds like a movie.”

“Yes, and sometimes stories like in the movies come true. If you put yourself back out there.”

He takes a beat, perhaps considering it, then nods. “Maybe I will, then.”

I clap once, glad for my friend. “Let’s see. Where do I know a fun, chatty, bighearted single woman?”

He laughs. “Nowhere, because they don’t exist.”

“Hush.” I hum thoughtfully. “Maybe Crosby knows someone.”

Matthew laughs doubtfully, a twinkle in his green eyes. “I’m sure your baseball star beau knows loads of single women.”

He has a fair point. Except wait a second. “I might know someone.” I lean closer and whisper, “I’ll find out if she likes wine and painting.”

“You do that.”

The day that spring training ends and my guy boards a flight back to the Bay Area, I’m a certifiable jackie-in-the-box, ready to spring with desire the second I see him. Just a few more hours now.

It’s a Friday night, and I head out to dinner with my family. Eric and Mariana. Brooke and David. My mom and her new beau, Craig, who loves to chat about ’70s music and is completely adorable.

Over apps and dinner at a restaurant near my place, we catch up on what everyone’s been up to for the last few weeks. During dessert, Eric lifts his fork to take a bite of the tiramisu, then clears his throat, meeting my gaze. “I guess all you’re waiting for is to see my best friend tonight?”

With a delicious grin, I nod. “I am indeed.”

Brooke laughs. “Yeah, she’s only been checking her phone the entire meal.”

I shoot her a stern look. “I have not been doing that.”

My mom purses her lips like she’s holding in a smile. “You kind of have, Nadia.”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Do you blame me?”

“No. I completely understand,” Brooke says, sliding her hand down her husband’s arm.

David blushes then drops a kiss onto her cheek. “I don’t blame you for wanting your hands on me.”

My family is full of perverts, apparently.

Including yours truly.

At the end of the meal, I nearly jump out of my seat, that much closer to seeing Crosby. I make my goodbyes and walk the few blocks home, enjoying the night air, the hint of a warm breeze as March nears its end in San Francisco.

I relish being home. I thought I would miss Vegas, but I don’t. This is where I was meant to be.

With family, with new friends, with a job I absolutely stinking love.

And with a guy I’ve known for so many years but am getting to understand in a new and incredibly wonderful way.

Maybe this is what the universe had in mind after all.

Or maybe, just maybe, I made sure I wasn’t fool enough to miss my chance when it came.

An hour later, the blue-eyed, crooked-grin-sporting, steady-handed third baseman and all-around good guy strides through my door, cups my cheeks, and kisses the hell out of me.

I melt into his arms, kissing him back just as hard, just as hungry.

Just as desperately.

It feels so damn good to share this wild, wonderful want with him. I tug on his shirt, drag him to the bedroom, and rip off his clothes.

“I guess I know what you missed the most,” he says, his voice a naughty rasp.

“Find out just how much,” I say, my hands racing over his skin.

And oh, he does find out. He moves over me, sliding into me, and, for the first time ever, filling me with no barriers between us.

We’re even closer like this, even more connected. It’s electric bliss, it’s supercharged lust, and it’s mad, passionate love as we come together.

When we’re done with round one, I drag a hand down his chest. “About your cousin Rachel,” I say.

“What about her?” He tilts his head, curious.

“Well, you said she had a jerk of an ex and liked to keep herself busy by setting other people up.”

“I did say that.”

“I happen to have a very good friend who’s newly single and is a great guy.”

“You don’t say,” he says, catching my meaning.

“Maybe the matchmaker needs us to play matchmaker,” I say, then I tell him more about Matthew and he tells me more about Rachel, and we decide they’d be perfect for each other.

He sends her a text, and I send one to Matthew, and a few minutes later, we’ve arranged a blind date for them.

“Now that we’ve accomplished that, I was thinking we might need some new rules for us,” I say with a smile.

He kisses my shoulder, dragging his lips along my warm skin. “And what would those be?”

“That we have lots of sex,” I say.

“Rule one,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

“That we keep asking for what we want,” I add.

“Rule two.”

“And that maybe I buy your team,” I say.

He cracks up. “You’re joking?”

I laugh too. “I am.”

“Okay, here’s my rule, then,” he says, his tone going serious.