“Oh, good, another pep talk,” Cole said. He tried to shut his office door in Lincoln’s face, but his friend pushed it open again and made himself comfortable in Cole’s guest chair as Cole pulled his laptop out of his bag.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lincoln asked.

“Nope,” Cole said, snapping his laptop into its docking station. “Didn’t want to talk about it yesterday. Or the day before. Or last week. Don’t want to talk about it now.”

“No problem, man, I totally get it,” Lincoln said. “I don’t like to talk about my women issues either.”

“Thank you,” Cole said, settling in his chair and taking a sip of his coffee.

“Except…”

Christ.

“I don’t really have any woman issues,” Lincoln said. “So…”

“Yeah, how is that?” Cole asked, narrowing his eyes at the other man. “You’ve dated five times the number of women I have—”

“More like ten,” Lincoln interrupted.

“—And yet you don’t have a single bitter ex, and I’ve never seen you so much as the tiniest bit tripped up by anything female.”

Lincoln spread his hands out to his sides. “Eat it up, Sharpe. This is a gift.”

“Whatever,” Cole muttered as he clicked open his email.

Lincoln leaned forward. “Give me a hint. Was it because she finally admitted that I was the better kisser? Was it the fact that you think burgers count as dinner? Dude, you didn’t cheat, did you?”

“I didn’t cheat,” Cole ground out. “And why do you assume it was my fault?”

“Wasn’t it?”

Cole sighed and gave up the pretense of getting any work done while Lincoln was still talking at him. “Yes.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Lincoln said. “And that’s actually good news.”

Cole gave him a look. Nothing about him and Penelope acting like strangers was good news.

“No, it is,” Lincoln insisted. “If you’re the one who screwed up, the ball’s in your court. You’ve got a chance to fix things.”

Cole looked away.

“Sharpe. You do want to fix things?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure, sure,” Lincoln said with an exaggerated nod. “I’m sure it’s very complicated. Explain?”

Cole fiddled with his computer mouse. Was there any good way to tell your guy friend that you’ve flipped out? That you’ve realized loving someone was hard, and weren’t sure your heart could handle the rough parts?

The moment he’d heard Bobby had been in an accident, Cole’s whole life had stopped and then tilted upside down. What would happen if he allowed himself to love someone else as much as he loved Bobby?

“Still waiting,” Lincoln whispered.

“The thing is, Mathis,” Cole said slowly. “Everyone acts like the moment you realize you’re in love is the big gotcha moment. But there’s actually a moment after that…the one where you realize you could lose the person you love.”

Lincoln said nothing, and Cole glanced up, surprised by his friend’s uncharacteristic quietness.

Lincoln had gone rigid, his eyes completely vacant. He looked a bit like someone had stabbed him in the chest.

Cole frowned in concern. “Hey. You okay?”

Lincoln shook his head slightly, and Cole watched as his eyes refocused, his mind obviously coming back from whatever dark place he’d just gone to.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Lincoln’s voice had none of its usual energy as he stood up abruptly. “But, I get it. The whole loving and losing someone thing. It’s a big risk. No lectures here.”

“Wait, Mathis. Hey! Lincoln!” Cole called after his friend, but Lincoln was already gone.

“What was that about?” Cole muttered. He thought about going after his friend, but instinct told him Lincoln had nothing to say on the matter, at least not yet.

Plus, maybe now they could come to an understanding.

Let sleeping dogs lie when the dogs involved women.

Or something.

Cole had finally turned his attention to his in-box when Cassidy called. After they greeted each other, there was a pause. Then Cassidy said, “You didn’t hear this from me.”

“Okay?”

There was another pause, longer this time, and Cole rolled his eyes. “Cassidy, right now I’m not hearing anything.”

“Todd Kolb is in the office today.”

“Well, shit, Cassidy,” Cole said. “Does the NSA know? Should we call the CIA?”

Todd Kolb was a prissy, fussy type who was a bigwig of a major sporting goods store that frequently advertised in Oxford. Todd tended to think that being one of their biggest accounts entitled him to hanging out in the office whenever he felt like it. The guy could be an awkward clinger, but he was harmless.

“Yeah, well…you heard that his uncle just bought the New York Rangers?”

“What kind of senior sports editor would I be if I didn’t know that?”

“Co–sports editor,” Cassidy corrected. “Which is sort of why I’m calling—”

“As opposed to taking the fifteen-second walk to my office?”

“Yeah, well, didn’t really want to be within firing range when I told you this….”

Cole’s eyes narrowed. “Told me what?”

“Todd Kolb’s taking Penelope to the Rangers game tonight. And a late dinner afterward. It would seem they’re kind of…dating.”

Cole’s ears rang.

“Come again?”

“Nope. I’m not repeating it. Didn’t even want to say it the first time. Just…damn it, Cole, get it together.”

The line went dead in Cole’s ear and he slowly put the phone back.

Let her go, he told himself.

Penelope deserved happiness, and if happiness came in the arms of another man—

“Nope. Not gonna happen.” Cole stood so quickly his chair flipped backward, but he didn’t pause to right it.

He had a woman to win back.

Chapter 29

Cole made it as far as Penelope’s office before he realized he didn’t have a plan.

Which would have been fine had he paused before opening the door, but nope—he’d gone flinging the door open without a single thought as to what he was going to say or do.

The result?

Two very startled pairs of eyes staring at him.

One pair of eyes—the big brown ones—he could drown in. Happily.

The other…

Cole focused all of his attention on the other man in the room. “Kolb.”

“Hey, Sharpe!” Todd Kolb had been standing behind Penelope, one hand braced on her desk, the other on the back of her chair, as they both looked at something on her computer screen.

Whether it was because he sensed the death glare from Cole or because of ingrained manners, Todd left Penelope’s side to shake Cole’s hand.

Cole might have shaken it harder than necessary. It was a clichéd move. Totally pathetic.

And absolutely unavoidable.

Cole did not like this man. He’d just now decided. Didn’t like his reddish hair. Didn’t like the preppy glasses. And his tie was the color of shit.

Penelope wouldn’t really date a man wearing a shit tie.

Would she?

“So, what’s going on in here?” Cole asked. He tried to keep his voice casual and curious, but it definitely seemed to come out vaguely predatory, and he could see from Penelope’s subtle eye roll that she noticed.

“Todd was walking me through some of the players for the off-season game tonight. Did you know that his uncle owns—”

“Yeah, I know,” Cole snapped.

Honestly, why did everyone think he didn’t know that? It was insulting.

“Next time I get tickets it’s your turn,” Todd told Cole, doing an admirable job of sounding apologetic. “I just thought since Penelope is new to town and hasn’t been to a game yet—”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Cole said. “Sounds good. But actually, Penelope and I have a meeting that was supposed to start five minutes ago, so—”

“Oh. Sure.” Todd looked a little surprised, but then gave a little shrug as though he wasn’t the least bit worried to be leaving the woman he was dating alone with Cole Sharpe.