"Any word from our boy?" Frank referred to Dune.

"Nothing, sorry," she said, disappointed.

Relationships were new to her. Maybe she was expecting too much from him. He'd called from the hospital, informing her that Mac had fractured his ankle. Mac didn't need surgery, he said, but his partner would be in a medical boot for six to eight weeks. Mac planned to recover at his beach condo in Malibu before heading back to Barefoot William.

Dune also mentioned checking on his volleyball camps while he was out on the West Coast. The summer sessions were about to start. He wanted to be sure each site was well staffed with the ratio of attendees to coaches three to one. The kids mattered most, he told her. The benefits of their experience could produce a top seed someday.

Dune made no reference to when he might return and Sophie didn't press him. He texted her once a day, but kept the tone light and easy, as if she were only a friend and he was ruffling her hair. Sophie's stomach sank at the end of each impersonal message.

"I watched the morning news," Frank said, settling onto his chair and grabbing a glazed blueberry cake doughnut. "The CNN sports anchor reported that Dune is actively seeking a new partner for the Hermosa Beach Open. The newscaster dropped names, but nothing has been finalized." The older man frowned. "That doesn't sound like Dune. He's loyal to Mac."

Sophie had no idea what was happening on the West Coast. She could only concentrate on her own here and now. She dedicated herself to her job as curator. She spent long hours at the museum. Frank didn't miss a day and often arrived ahead of her. She had given him a key. He greeted her every morning with hot coffee, baked goods, and a weathered smile.

They'd grown close, Sophie realized. They spent a great deal of time talking. The older man told her stories of his father and grandfather, and had her laughing over his own childhood. He liked soapbox derbies, but he had never won a race. He collected Lionel trains and brought the train set out every Christmas. He and his adolescent friends played tag in the cow pasture, only to have the bull chase them. He was good for a game of gin or cribbage at any hour of the day or night.

There was also another side of Frank she'd never dreamed existed. The soldier. He was a loyal man, she learned. He'd served in Korea. He shaved his head bald when one of his Army buddies was diagnosed with cancer and went through chemotherapy. He was a pallbearer at the man's funeral. He marched in the Veterans Day parade each year.

This morning, Frank had something else on his mind than telling stories, and he wasn't shy about saying it either.

"I don't know what's wrong with that grandson of mine," he said, finishing his coffee. "He's always been considerate of others. I'm sorry he hasn't been more communicative, Sophie."

"I'm sure he has a lot on his mind right now," she said. Her hands were cold, her heart colder. "He needs to make the right decision for his future, Frank."

"I remember how it was when I met my wife. Emma Loraine Halverson was the prettiest thing a man could see on a summer day," Frank began. "She'd ridden the train into town with her family. They were on vacation. I fell in love with her when I saw her at Milford's Soda Shop sipping a strawberry shake topped with whipped cream and a cherry. She reminded me of sunshine with her honey blond hair, blue eyes, and warm smile."

"What'd you do next, Frank?" Sophie wanted to know.

"I introduced myself," Frank continued, "then I asked her if I could sit at her table. She lowered her eyes and nodded. I could barely eat my double-dip vanilla ice cream cone, I was so nervous. I kept wiping my face with my handkerchief." He sighed. "I'll never forget that day. Ever."

His smile was wistful. "I asked her to marry me after two dates. She agreed. We married on a Sunday. Emma's parents returned to Ohio and their daughter remained in Barefoot William. We had four children. Their children gave us eighteen grandchildren. I'm waiting on Shaye and Trace to give me a great-grandbaby."

She could've listened to Frank tell stories all morning, but she had work to do. People came and went throughout the day as they had all week. Randy and Chuck showed up at the museum with their sketchpads in hand. Sophie discovered the boys were quite talented. She decided to give them a chance to draw the Cates family tree.

The rest of the week followed the same pattern. Shaye and Trace stopped in to check on Sophie at noon on Wednesday. Shaye had tears in her eyes when Frank and Trace shook hands and agreed to work together in the future. Frank had a parcel of land that Trace wanted to acquire for a public park. Frank was ready to negotiate.

Late Friday afternoon, Jenna Cates arrived at the museum in a pedicab. She asked the driver to wait for her at the curb. She then pushed through the door. "How are you doing, Sophie?" she asked, leaning back against the doorjamb.

"I could ask you the same thing," Sophie returned, eyeing her friend. "You've lost weight."

"Six pounds," Jen said with a weariness in her voice Sophie hadn't heard before. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I have dark circles under my eyes." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Uncombed and no gel."

Her gaze was flat, too, Sophie noticed. Jen had pretty brown eyes, but they weren't nearly as bright or fiery as when Mac was in town.

"I'm a mess," Jen admitted, jamming her hands in the pockets of her denim shorts. "I've never allowed any man to walk into my life and steal my heart." She sighed. "Not until Mac James sauntered into Three Shirts. He broke my rules and I fell in love. Not my smartest move."

"Mac is a charmer," Sophie agreed.

"A charmer who hasn't called me," said Jen. She released a breath, then gently asked, "Any word from Dune?"

"Nothing recent," Sophie told her. "I'm assuming he's busy, between his volleyball camps and dealing with Mac. Mac needs to rest. Without supervision, he'll be up and walking on the beach-"

"Using hot, gorgeous women for crutches," Jenna said, flinching. "I can't get that image out of my mind."

"Me, either," Sophie said, remembering the TV news coverage of the celebration. She could still picture Dune surrounded by tanned, toned, and adoring female fans. He'd been the center of their crush, appearing pleased by their attention.

She understood an athlete's popularity. Mac and Dune wanted to give back to their fans. The crowds paid their salaries. But did there have to be so much touching? The women patted, stroked, and tugged the players to them. The image made Sophie miserable.

"We can't just sit at home and wait for Dune and Mac to return to Barefoot William," Jenna said. "We aren't even certain they'll be back."

The fear she might not see Dune for months was the worst fear Sophie had ever faced. The very thought she might see him again someday, but with another woman, would prove awkward, humiliating, and heartbreaking to her.

"We need a girls' night out," Jen said with conviction. "I've always wanted to try Barconi's bistro on Saunders Shores. It's time for me to cross Center Street. I'm in the mood for Italian food."

Jen was right. Fine dining was the perfect way to move on with her life. "I've eaten there several times," Sophie said. "The chef is from Bologna, Italy. The bruschetta and Chicken Roberto are my favorite dishes. I'd love to have dinner with you."

"Cool. Shaye's organizing midnight movie madness on the pier," Jenna went on to say. "Transformers: Fall of Cy-bertron will be the first of many Sunday summer shows shown on the outer wooden wall of Cook It, Kai's chef's kitchen. Lots of families attend every year."

"Sounds like fun," Sophie said, her mood lifting. "What should I bring?"

Jen thought a moment. "Beach chairs, popcorn, candy, and soda. That's it."

Sophie dipped her head, an old fear haunting her. She said, "I always wanted to ride the merry-go-round and Ferris wheel. I was too scared as a child. My time is now."

Jen nodded. "I love all the amusements. Ever play Whac-A-Mole? Ring toss? Balloon darts?"

Sophie shook her head. "They sound entertaining."

"And addicting," Jen said, smiling. She turned to leave, then stopped. "We'll get through this, Sophie." She gave her a quick thumbs-up, then opened the door. It closed behind her.

Sophie hoped Jen was right and she would survive. She massaged her chest, right over her heart. Her feelings were bruised. Her sense of disappointment was eye-opening. She'd believed in Dune, yet once he'd returned to volleyball, his fame and fanfare claimed him again. Sophie now stood on the sidelines.

She gazed out the front window and watched as Jenna climbed into the pedicab. She leaned back on the seat; her shoulders were slumped. Sophie felt her friend's sadness. It went bone deep.

Jenna Cates missed Mac James. She hated the fact she'd allowed him to take over her life. She wanted to kick something; that something was the curb when the driver dropped her off at her cottage. Her flip-flops were flimsy. Damn if she didn't stub her toe.

She took the stone path to the steps that led to her porch. She noticed the beige paint was peeling at the corners of her cottage and along the roofline. It was time to spruce up the place.

Most of the cottages on her street were brightly colored: sunshine yellow, seashell pink, a deep lavender. In that moment, she decided on sky blue with white shutters. The paint would brighten her life and make for a nice change.

Climbing the stairs, she looked around. Where were her Savannahs? They always approached her the second she started up the path. Not so today. So, where were they? They seldom spent time in the house. They preferred lying in the grass beneath a shade tree or stretched out in the window boxes.

She stopped, listened. It was eerily quiet.

She removed her house key from her denim pocket and keyed the door. She pushed it open. Slowly. Something was wrong. She could feel it. The hair at her nape prickled, as if she were about to be ambushed.

Mac James took her by surprise. He looked right at home seated on the antique rocking chair in her living room. His walking cast was propped on the ottoman. He appeared calm and comfortable, while her heart raced and her stomach fluttered.

Her cats had betrayed her, allowing him inside their domain. Chike now curled on his lap. Jango, Neo, and Aba lay on the floor close by. Jen couldn't move. She could only stare.

She took him in. He was too handsome for his own good. It had been eleven days since she'd seen him, yet it seemed like forever. His hair was longer and curled at his shirt collar. His blue T-shirt matched his eyes. The logo read Come and Get Me. Oh really? She wasn't going anywhere near him. Not after that postgame display of flash and flesh that he'd put on for the TV audience. One leg on his jeans was cut off at the knee to accommodate his cast. He wore a single leather flip-flop.

"Jenna?" His voice was low and deep. He tilted his head and narrowed his gaze. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes when she kept her distance.

She clenched her fists and tamped down her excitement at seeing him. "Who let you in?" Her voice was tight and unwelcoming. "Did you jimmy the back window?"

"It was all Chike's idea," he defended himself, scratching the Savannah behind the ears. "I couldn't fit through the cat door. Chike suggested the window."

Jen could hear Chike's purring all the way to the door. The sound irritated her. A lot. Her furry protector rolled onto his back, wanting his belly rubbed. Mac obliged. Chike looked at her from his upside-down position. She swore he winked at her. Her cat was a traitor.

"How's your ankle, Mac?" she wanted to know.

"It gets sore when I stand, so I'm forced to use my crutches."

"Which ones?" She sounded snarky, but she didn't care. "Aluminum or human?"

His brow creased, as if he didn't understand her question. After a moment, he burst out laughing. His laughter was inappropriate as far as Jenna was concerned.

"I had assistance off the court after the tournament," he said. "I'm sure the camera caught the worst angles."

"I saw tits and ass."

One corner of his mouth lifted. "You're jealous."

"Maybe . . . a little." She was honest.

"Don't be, Jen. I was thinking about you the whole time."

"When exactly did you think of me?" she asked him bluntly. "When you were being kissed by the groupies or when the Aqua Gold hostess rubbed suntan oil on your shoulders?"

He pursed his lips. "Definitely during the rubbing."

"You're such an ass."

"I'm your ass, Jenna."

"What if I don't want you?"

"You do, babe." He was smiling now. "Once you calm down, you can tell me how much."

He was way too sure of himself. She crossed to him then. Gripping his arm, she tugged hard. "Out of my rocker and out of my house," she ordered him.

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do." Chike received her message, loud and clear. He hopped off Mac's lap and resettled on the armless chair. Mac was left on his own.

He saw through her, which irritated Jen all the more. "You're mad I didn't call you, and I understand that." He ran one hand down his face. "Following the tournament, I was psyched that we'd won. I'm not going to lie, I enjoyed the praise, the prize money, the-"

"Women?" she had to add.

"The women lasted as far as the ambulance," Mac informed her with a straight face. "Dune stayed with me at the hospital. There was no one else. The doctor was as ancient as his nursing staff."

"No sponge bath, then?"

"Nurse Granny Panties washed the sand off my foot, but that was it."

Jen forced down a smile. "Your fingers weren't broken. You could've sent me a text."

"Not in the mood I was in, Jen." He blew out a breath, then went on to say, "I left the hospital ornery, complaining, and feeling damn sorry for myself. Ask Dune, he'll tell you how crappy I felt. He and I had just come off a major win. He'd played well, and Hermosa was a definite possibility."

He paused, grew thoughtful. Jenna waited to hear what he had to say. She owed him that.

"It's funny," he said, "how life shuts a man down when he's at an all-time high."

"We've all suffered setbacks, Mac." She no longer gripped his arm, instead she found herself stroking his shoulder, offering him comfort. "We start again from where we've left off."

"A fractured ankle makes it tough for a player to return to volleyball," he said. "A few have tried, but a second bad twist, and I'm sitting on the sidelines again."

"Surely you have options."

"I plan to put in an employment application at Three Shirts," he told her. "I know the shop owner. She's aware that I can draw a crowd."

"That you do." Having Mac around full-time was more than she'd hoped for. Jen liked the idea. They'd be a good team.

His jaw worked. "I've made additional adjustments, too," he continued before she could argue with him. "I cleared out my condo in Malibu and listed it with a real estate agent. It's located on the sand in a prime spot and should sell quickly. I sold most of my furniture. The few remaining pieces I chose to keep will be delivered here in a few days."

She blinked. "Here, to my home?"

He nodded. "I didn't think you'd mind."

She pinched his shoulder. "Don't think for me, Mac."

He winced. "A husband deserves a few items of his own-"

"Husband?" She backed him up.

"I plan to marry you."

"Do I have any say?"

"Very little, actually," he said. "Your cats like me; they want me as a roommate."

Seductive warmth settled on her chest. Mac James with his sexy smile and hot body had come home to her. He wanted her as his wife. She smiled at her Savannahs. "It seems I'm outnumbered."

He reached out and drew her to him. She climbed onto his lap. He ran his hands up and down her sides. His thumbs stroked beneath her breasts. "You've lost weight," he noticed once her bottom rested on his groin. He snuck a peek down her shirt. "Did you go down a cup size?"

She slapped his hand away. "I was worried about you and couldn't eat," she admitted, sighing.

"I was worried about me, too," he admitted.