Page 18 of Capture My Heart

“Is he married?” Lorna asked.

“Not that I’m aware of.” Amy’s leg started to bounce.

“If I were you, I’d be all over that.” Kate licked her lips.

“She’s got a point. I’m hopelessly in love with Jim, but damn. So, I have to ask. What’s wrong with him that you’re not flirting your ass off with the sexy landlord?”

Amy stopped her leg with a hand to her knee. So much for a relaxing night at the game.

Liz’s eyes popped. “Or are you?”

Amy rolled her eyes. “When do I have time?”

Shit, Liz didn’t reply, but Amy saw the way she analyzed her.

“Heck, you might get a break on the rent if nothing else.”

Lorna nudged Kate. “Sometimes I think your filter is broken. Amy wouldn’t sleep with a guy to get cheap rent.”

Amy’s brows rose. “I’d never say never.”

The bat cracked and all four turn to watch the ball sail over the field.

“Woohoo! Home run. Okay, seriously Amy, if you don’t go for him I will.”

Kate’s comments sat like a lead blast shield on her chest. Trey wasn’t on her to-do list in any capacity, but she didn’t like the image of Kate wrapping her long limbs around him either.

As Trey crossed home plate, he looked up, his eyes targeted her. A faint grin hitched up as he gave a little wave.

“Doesn’t look like you have a chance, Kate.” Lorna smirked.

“Damn, I guess I’m setting my kitchen on fire tonight after all.”

For the rest of the game, talk turned to wedding plans for Liz, Lorna’s kids, and the occasional talk about baseball.

Thank goodness. Amy could breathe easier not thinking about Trey Fenley and his steely eyes that put her back up one minute and melted her panties the next.

Pete’s Bar had been a cop hangout for as long as Amy could remember. Photos of past squads and memorabilia hung from the dark cedar walls. Her dad used to come here with the guys after a Friday night shift. In recent years, the firefighters had taken to joining them after training or a rough blaze. Now photos of the fire crew joined the police souvenirs scattered around the room. Tonight, the APD took up residence at tables on the south end of the massive polished wooden bar, and the flameboys, though not all of them were guys, took to the north.

The crowd parted when Millie, the server, wielding a tray the size of Captain America’s shield full of long neck bottles, approached.

“Happy faces on this side of the bar. I’m guessing APD was victorious tonight.” She blew a dark curl from her eyes as she passed out the beers.

Bob raised his bottle and they all followed suit. “To the blue. We kicked ass tonight.”

“With a little help.” Jim gestured with his bottle toward Trey.

“Hear, hear.” CJ’s beer lifted in thanks and they all clanked bottles.

“He’s almost as good as Larson at bat,” Ryan added then slammed back his drink. Amy caught his gaze wandering to the other side of the bar. She leaned in to be heard over the rising sound of merriment.

“Are you still sulking because the blonde tagged you out at second in the eighth?”

“No. It was a fair play.” He took another pull of his beer.

“She’s a looker. You should go say hello.” Amy nudged his arm. “She’s looking at you. You might have a chance.”

Ryan shook his head. “Drop it, Larson. Erica would rather see me dead than cross the room to her.”