“The new job has been crazy,” Penelope repeated instead.

Not a total lie. Even with Cole as co-editor, the fast-paced world of Oxford was more than enough to keep her busy.

“Tell me you love it,” Janie demanded. “It’s the only way I’m going to let you stay in New York instead of inciting you to get your tiny, cellulite-free butt back to Chicago where it belongs.”

“I do love it,” Penelope said, as she sat down in her chair. A quick glance at the clock told her she had a few minutes before she needed to head out to meet Julie for lunch. “New York’s…crazy. But good crazy.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Janie said. “But please, please tell me you booked your flight for Fourth of July. You know I’m no match for mom’s overindulgence with the red, white, and blue food coloring without you.”

“Yup, was going to do that today,” Penelope said, pulling a sticky pad to her and writing Book flight home.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t looking forward to seeing her family in July. She missed them like crazy. It was just…

Well, oddly enough, Chicago didn’t feel as much like home as she thought it would at this stage.

It was like New York had very slowly, very subtly sunk its teeth into her.

Her phone beeped, and Penelope sighed. “Okay, there’s no way Mom doesn’t have some sort of radar for when we’re talking on the phone.”

She pulled her phone away from her face to check caller ID and froze.

It wasn’t her mom. Or her dad.

It was Evan.

What to do?

Her brain was screaming at her to ignore it. To send him straight to voicemail.

Her heart, on the other hand…

“Janie, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you back this afternoon, I promise.”

Her sister was silent for a moment. “Sure, that’s fine, but…you okay?”

No. Not even close. Don’t let me do this.

“Yup, totally. Talk soon.”

She switched over to the other call before her sister could catch on to the fact that Penelope’s heartbeat was thumping in overdrive.

“Hello?”

“Now there’s a voice I haven’t heard in far too long,” said the gravelly voice on the other end of the line.

She’d always loved Evan Barstow’s voice. It was a shame his first passion was sportswriting, because he had an awesome radio voice.

“Hi, Evan.”

“How you doing, babe?”

She swallowed. He sounded so…casual. As though the last time they’d talked, she hadn’t been fighting back tears as he’d delivered a double whammy of I took your job, and Oh, by the way, that kiss you tried to plant on me was awkward because I’m seeing someone.

“I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. “I’m great.”

There, that was better. Less pathetic.

“How’s the New York freelance world treating you?”

“Actually, not doing that anymore. I took another job, with Oxford magazine.”

He paused. “The men’s magazine?”

“Yup.” The massive, household-name magazine, she silently added.

“Wow, that’s fucking awesome. Although they don’t have much in sports, if I remember correctly. A couple pages. You doing cologne reviews now or something?”

He laughed at his own joke, and her jaw clenched. Had he always been such a jerk? “Actually, they’ve recently decided to overhaul and expand their sports section, and brought me in to oversee the project.”

It was only a partial truth, since technically she shared the job, but she didn’t feel particularly bad about the semi-fib.

“How are things with you?” she asked.

“Good. They’re really good. Busy, which is actually why I’m calling, got a favor.”

Any hope that he might be calling to apologize went out the window. Of course he needed something.

She didn’t say anything, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Sportiva is looking to expand into New York, and they’re sending me out there to sort of do an initial scouting session. Knowing you, you probably did a ton of research about the New York sports scene before moving out there…”

Which you well know since you stole the last research I did.

“I was thinking I could take you out to dinner. Pick your brain a little.”

Penelope wanted to say no. Wanted to tell him to go to hell.

And yet, it felt…petty.

Plus, she wanted to prove—especially to herself—that she was over Evan Barstow, and the only way to do that…

“When are you coming out?” she asked reluctantly.

“Friday, actually.”

She blinked. “This Friday?”

“I know it’s last-minute, but figured, why wait, and…”

“Are you coming alone?”

There was a brief pause, and Penelope squeezed her eyes shut at what the question betrayed. “I mean, is Caleb or anyone coming with you or…”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “No, just me. Been getting used to my alone time now that I’m single again.”

Boom. There it was.

Evan Barstow was single. And coming to New York. And wanted to see her.

And…

She didn’t care.

Did she?

“Well, it’d be nice to see you,” she said. “Maybe we could grab dinner on Friday when you get in?”

“Absolutely,” he said. She didn’t think she was imagining the relief in his voice, and it warmed her a little to think that he might have been nervous about calling her.

“Look, I’ve got to get going. I have a lunch meeting, but text me your flight details, ’kay?”

“Absolutely, will do. And Penelope—”

She stilled.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and muttered an awkward goodbye before hanging up the phone.

Penelope gathered her bag to go meet Julie in the lobby, when all of a sudden she skidded to a halt.

Evan was flying in Friday.

He’d be here all weekend.

Except weekend days were her and Cole’s time, which meant…

She didn’t know what any of it meant.

“Freaking great,” she muttered to herself. “Well done, Pope.”

How was it that she’d gone from a chronic state of no men to all of a sudden having two to contend with?

A minute later, Penelope was scanning the lobby for Julie, when inspiration struck.

Julie…She would definitely know what to do.

“Whoa,” Julie said, holding up a hand as Penelope came to a stop in front of her. “Can we talk about your scowl for a second?”

“Sorry,” Penelope said with a sheepish smile.

“Don’t apologize. Tell me everything,” Julie said, linking her arm with Penelope’s and pulling her toward the door. “I know that scowl. It’s about a man. And considering I saw you wearing Cole Sharpe’s T-shirt at five-thirty in the morning…”

“Um…”

“Hold that thought until we’re sitting down,” Julie said.

Penelope let Julie lead her to a nearby Italian restaurant, and true to her word, Julie waited until they were seated and sipping iced tea before she dove in.

“Mitchell gave me explicit orders not to bug you about this, but since I never listen to my husband, I’ve got to ask…what is going on with you and delicious Cole? Are you going to have his babies? Can I be godmother? Or at least come to the wedding?”

Penelope searched Julie’s face for any sign of incredulity. Any hint of disbelief that someone like Cole would be interested in someone like Penelope.

Instead she saw only girlish curiosity.

“Come on, Pen,” Julie said, reaching for a piece of bread. “I’m an old married woman. Give me something juicy to work with.”

“Uh-huh,” Penelope said drily. “You forget that I’ve seen you and Mitchell together. The two of you set off fireworks every time you come into contact.”

Julie dunked her bread in olive oil before popping it into her mouth and chewing happily. “It’s a burden I must bear, being married to a gorgeous man I adore.”

Their server came by to take their order, and both women opted for the mushroom ravioli special with truffle butter sauce, because, as Julie pointed out, the only thing better than truffles was butter, and vice versa.