Cade took another sip of water, grateful that the sunglasses he wore hid the uncertainty he felt. He deliberately kept his voice cool. “Does Noah know we’re talking?”

“No. But I know he’d like to see you, too,” Zach added quietly.

Cade looked out at the field again, having serious doubts about that one. He deliberately changed the subject. “How are things going with Paige?”

A flicker of disappointment crossed Zach’s face. Probably, he’d been hoping to talk more about their father. But despite the fact that Cade was quickly growing closer to Zach, there were limits on how far he was willing to go when it came to Noah Garrity.

“I bought some book of poetry I saw at the bookstore. One that didn’t look totally uncool,” Zach said. “But it’s been a busy week. I haven’t had a chance to give it to Paige yet.”

Busy week? The kid was on summer vacation. From the way Zach was squirming right then, Cade had a sneaking suspicion his brother was still nervous about talking to the girl. “You said she works at an ice-cream shop around here, right?” He made a big show of wiping the sweat off his brow. “Come to think of it, a nice double cone would really hit the spot in this heat.”

Zach’s expression was one of pure teenage mortification. “Yeah, because that’s exactly what will help my inability to talk to her—my older brother watching and critiquing all my moves.”

“I thought we’d already established that you don’t have any moves.”

“Now that’s funny. Picking on someone half your age. Hey, here’s an idea: I’ll introduce you to Paige as soon as I meet this so-called smart, witty, and hot woman you’re supposedly seeing. Sounds a lot like one of those made-up girlfriends who live in Niagara Falls.”

“She’s real. I’m seeing her tonight, in fact.” They hadn’t decided their specific plans yet, but Brooke had texted him last night, asking if he was free.

“Wow. You actually, like, beamed when you said that.”

“Get out of here,” Cade scoffed. “I did not.”

“What’s her name?”

Cade opened his mouth to answer, then paused.

Zach grinned. “Worried you can’t say it without beaming again?”

Ridiculous. “Her name is Brooke.” He deliberately maintained a straight face.

Zach made a big show of studying him, presumably looking for any sign of this alleged “beaming.” He stepped closer and then, with a comically scrutinizing face, slowly looked at one side of Cade’s face, and then the other.

Cade never cracked once.

Finally, Zach gave up. “Dude, I’m impressed. You need to show me that trick.” His cell phone suddenly rang from the backpack he’d left on the grass.

“What trick?” Cade asked. His prosecutorial, I-ask-the-questions-I-don’t-answer-them face? Just another trick in his trial arsenal, a close cousin to his equally impressive don’t- bullshit-me face.

“How to hide your true feelings so well.” With a sly grin, Zach reached across the grass and pulled the phone out of his backpack. “It’s my mom. I should probably take this.” He stood up and walked off a few feet to talk in private.

Cade watched as Zach answered the phone, his brother’s words still hanging in the air. How to hide your true feelings so well. He knew Zach had made the comment in jest, part of his teasing about Brooke. But, in reality, it wasn’t all that far off the mark.

I envy you, he’d told Zach the first time they’d met.

Because I’m a mess?

No. Because you’re not afraid to be a mess.

Seeing that Zach was still talking to his mother, Cade reached over and pulled his cell phone out of the duffle bag.

He shot a quick text message to Brooke. I’VE DECIDED THAT I’M TAKING YOU OUT FOR DINNER TONIGHT, CINDERELLA.

A few moments later, he got a reply.

THE SOON-TO-BE ACTING U.S. ATTORNEY HAS COMMANDED, AND SO IT SHALL BE.

He laughed at that. She was a saucy one, all right. He wrote back. YOU ARE ALLOWED TO SHOW YOUR PLEASURE. PICK YOU UP AT 7:00.

She fired back a response. 7:30.

He smiled at the inside joke. OF COURSE YOU WOULD SAY 7:30.

Cade tossed his phone into his bag just as Zach walked back over.

“Sorry about that.” Zach shoved his phone into his backpack and took a seat on the grass. “My mom needed to talk to me about a few things.”

“No problem.” Cade looked out at the field before them. He felt good right then, really good, which was probably what prompted him to look sideways at Zach and say what he did next. “I want you to do something for me.”

Zach shrugged earnestly. “Sure. What?”

“Go long,” Cade said, meeting his brother’s gaze through his sunglasses. “Just once.”

After a moment, Zach nodded. “Okay.”

Cade grabbed the football and stood up. He walked to the far end of the field, and watched as Zach took his place to the right of him, at the line of scrimmage.

“Blue Cross Blue Shield?” Zach called out.

“Yep.” In the zone now, Cade mentally readied himself and called the play. He faked the snap and dropped back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zach take off at top speed, and everything else faded away. He could still perfectly envision the wall of purple Wildcats jerseys in front of him, could hear the roar of the crowd that day in Pasadena. Mere seconds left on the clock, but this moment was his, the adrenaline pumping through his veins as his wide receiver headed for the end zone. In his peripheral vision he saw the linebacker charging around the line, gunning for the sack, but screw him—victory was so close he could taste it and nothing was going to get in his way. He pulled back and threw hard, stepping back to watch as the football sailed through the air in a perfect spiral.

About seven yards short.

Readjusting quickly, Zach cut forward and dove for the ball. He caught it midair in his fingertips and landed in a sprawl on the field.

He held the ball up victoriously. “First down!”

Cade broke into a wide grin and headed over. If this had been a real game, he would’ve just thrown an embarrassing interception and probably been booed off the field. But he’d take the moment nevertheless.

When he reached Zach, he held out his left hand and helped him off the grass. “Now that was some fast footwork.” He slapped him across the shoulders.

Zach grinned, boyishly proud. “Thanks.” He pointed to Cade’s right shoulder. “We’re done?”

Cade nodded, wincing at the sharp twinge in his shoulder. “Oh, yeah. We’re done.”

Twenty-two

THIS TIME, BROOKE was ready to go when Cade showed up at her apartment. With her schedule, she didn’t get a date night often, so she’d spent a few extra minutes—okay, maybe a lot of extra minutes—on her hair and makeup and had slipped on a cute pair of jeans with her heels.

Cade eyes traveled over her when she answered the door, coming to rest on her shoes. “Are those the ones from Monday night?”

“They are.”

He stepped inside her apartment and kicked the door shut.

Well, then.

“I have good memories of those shoes.” With a warm gleam in his eye, he reached up and cupped the nape of her neck, leaning in to kiss her.

Hmm. She might have to wear these shoes all the time around Cade, if they put him in this good of a moo—

He jerked back, cursing under his breath.

Brooke blinked in surprise, still feeling the warm press of his lips on hers. “Um . . . what just happened?”

He winced, rotating his arm gingerly. “I reached around to grab your ass.”

“And . . . it electrocuted you?”

He chucked her under the chin. “No, sassy. My shoulder’s a little sore after playing football today.”

That was news to her. “I didn’t know you still played football.”

“I don’t. I was helping out someone else and got caught up in the moment.”

Someone who? Brooke nearly asked, then decided against it. If Cade didn’t want to let her in on this mysterious thing going on with him, she wasn’t going to pry it out of him. “Did you take anything for the pain?”

He brushed this off. “I iced it earlier. I don’t need anything for the pain.”

Men. “We can stay in and take it easy tonight, Cade. It’s no big deal.”

“I’m fine.” He raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to contradict that.

“Okay,” she said, with a shrug. If that was how he wanted to play this, she’d go along with it.

For now.

* * *

BROOKE HAD TO admit, Cade put on a really good tough-guy act.

If this had been a first date, she probably wouldn’t have noticed that anything was wrong. Not surprisingly, he was nearly pitch-perfect in covering up the fact that something was bothering him. He was charming as ever, he asked about her workweek, made her laugh, and told several interesting anecdotes about life as an assistant U.S. attorney. But by now she knew him well enough to pick up on the little signs, like the way he’d reached with his left hand to open the restaurant door for her. Or how his jaw had tensed slightly when he’d needed to use his right hand to cut his steak.

Going along with the charade, she said nothing through dinner, nor through their dessert of flourless chocolate cake, nor during the cab ride back to her building. Instead, she waited until they got inside her apartment.

“I have something for you,” she said with a deliberately mischievous air.

He raised an eyebrow. “I like the sound of that.”