half MacGyver, half Martha Stewart.
Julie wrinkled her nose. “I’d say you’re doing all right. Your fielding skills suck, but
you’ve gotten on base plenty, although I’m pretty sure that’s because your
Yankees T-shirt is a child’s size medium, and your boobs are … ahem … not
medium.”
“Or childlike,” Grace added.
“I wasn’t asking about my softball skills,” Riley said, handing the now empty water
bottle back to Grace. “But since you went there, I’d just like to point out that my
fielding skills are just fine.”
“Really?” Emma drawled. “Because last inning, the ball literally sat still at your
feet for a good forty-five seconds while you fanned Maria’s brother with your
eyelashes.”
“I’m sorry, did you not just see me speed across home plate?” Riley asked,
pointing at the field.
Julie pursed her lips. “I thought I saw a brunette trot across home plate. I didn’t
see anything resembling speed.”
“Says the woman who struck out twice in a row without even trying to swing.
You’re lucky Mitchell’s so good. Who knew that Wall Street had sports skills?”
“He’s sporty like that,” Julie said, delicately nibbling a sunflower seed between
perfect white teeth. “It’s pretty annoying actually. The other day he asked if I
wanted to go on a ‘light bike ride.’ Honestly. It was freaking freezing.”
“Could be worse,” Grace said. “At least your fiancé’s not a previous baseball all-
star and on the opposing team.”
“That’s what you get, going steady with an Oxford guy—”
Waaaaaaait.
Riley stopped trying to steal Grace’s second water bottle, and she knew from the
sudden stillness on her other side that Emma and Julie were in a similar state of
shock.
“Grace,” Julie said, her voice never losing its trademark sweetness. “Did you just
drop the F bomb?”
“What? No, I just—” Grace’s hand flew to her mouth in horror. “Oh God.”
Riley lightly tapped Grace’s na**d fourth finger. “Oh God, indeed. A fiancée
without the pretty ring? Not that that’s what matters, but—”
“There is a ring, and it’s perfect, but not really softball appropriate, and I—”
Grace’s babbling was stifled as three squealing women mauled her.
“You’re engaged?” Julie asked, mopping her eyes.
“It was supposed to be a secret until I had the right chance to tell you guys,” Grace
said, trying to squirm out from beneath the group hug.
“Well, consider that cat out of the bag,” Emma said, glancing around at the
curious stares.
Riley found she was wiping tears from her own eyes. Tears. “I can’t believe you
didn’t call us first thing. Oh, Gracie, you’re so happy.”
“Of course she’s happy, she’s marrying that,” Julie said, pointing at Jake, who
looked gorgeous and completely at home on the pitcher’s mound. Like everyone
else, he’d stopped playing to stare at the spectacle the four women made, and
the cocky grin on his face said that he knew exactly what they were talking about.
Riley was dying to look toward her left, where she knew Sam was standing on
third. She resisted. Barely.
Slowly the game resumed, although Grace wasn’t off the hook. Not with her best
friends.
“Go ahead and call me crass,” Emma said, “But um … if the ring’s so beautiful,
where is it?”
“At home,” Grace said, grabbing one of the helmets off the hook and preparing
for her turn at bat. “I didn’t want to take away from … you know … the softball
game.”
Riley lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Because we’re all hoping that this goes
from an annual obligation to a regular league. Try again.”
Grace sighed. “Okay, I didn’t want to take away from your day.”
It took Riley a full ten seconds to realize that Grace was talking about her. “What
do you mean, my day?”
Grace lifted one of the bats before exchanging it for another one. Not that it would
matter. Grace was even worse at batting than Riley was at fielding and Julie was
at, well … everything.
Emma was the only one with any sort of athletic skill. Something that Alex Cassidy
had definitely taken notice of, if Julie’s attraction radar was working correctly—
which it usually was.
“Hello?” Riley asked again when nobody responded.
“Your thing with Sam,” Julie said, nudging her tennis shoe softly against Riley’s