Penelope was a little worried she’d have a hard time not sneaking glances at Cole, but as the innings ticked by, her concern evaporated. Bobby was really, truly charming.

He had a youthful energy that made one happy to be alive. He also shared his remaining popcorn. Couldn’t beat that.

“Do you have a crush on my brother?” Bobby asked, after Cole had bought them all ice creams.

Penelope leaned over and snuck a bite of Bobby’s chocolate ice cream, which was better than her vanilla.

“I do. A little bit,” she said.

Cole glanced up at her in surprise and she shrugged.

“Are you going to get married?” Bobby asked. “Then we can be best friends and you can be my sister!”

“Bob,” Cole said in a warning voice.

Bobby looked at him in confusion. “What?”

“Penelope and I are just friends,” Cole explained.

Penelope swallowed, telling herself that it didn’t sting.

Of course they were just friends. Heck, she was the one who’d set the rules. Multiple times. And even if they were more than friends, she could understand why he wouldn’t want his brother to get the wrong idea.

It wasn’t like the three of them were going to start making a routine out of ball games together.

That last thought caused a little stab of regret, and Penelope frowned down at her ice cream. What was wrong with her? One baseball game and she was all ready to insert herself into Cole’s family?

She wondered if it was always just the two of them, or if parents sometimes tagged along. Did Cole’s parents live in New York? Were they alive?

It was something a girlfriend would know. Heck, it was something a friend would know.

Her frown deepened as she realized just how little she knew the man she was sometimes sleeping with.

After singing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” at the seventh-inning stretch, Bobby headed to the restrooms with firm instructions that he did not want Cole to come with him.

Penelope and Cole stayed standing, watching in awkward silence as the crew cleaned up the field. She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, and Cole turned toward her suddenly.

“Thank you.”

She glanced up at him. “For?”

He lifted a shoulder. “For not making it weird. For being…understanding.”

It was on the tip of Penelope’s tongue to protest that it was no big thing—or at least that it shouldn’t be. But something on Cole’s face had her holding back. As though he’d been through this sort of interaction before, and not had it end well.

She touched her fingers just lightly to his elbow. “I’m having a really good time.”

He swallowed and glanced at her before his eyes darted back to the field.

This was a different side of Cole. One she was suddenly desperate to get to know. But it wasn’t the time. Or the place. And then Bobby was back, and the game wound down into what turned out to be a pretty impressive victory for the Mets.

The three of them filed out of their row and joined the slow, crowded procession toward the main level. Bobby chatted happily the whole time about some big party they were having at the Big House later, and how he was going to wear his new purple shirt.

They were a few feet from the exit when Cole interrupted his brother. “Hold on, Bobby, there’s something we need to do before we can leave.”

Both Penelope and Bobby looked at him.

“Look at Penelope here,” Cole said. “Does she seem like she’s missing something?”

Bobby studied her with careful precision before holding up a finger. “A hat!”

“Damn straight,” Cole said. “She’s lacking a Mets cap.”

“Says the guy wearing the Yankees hat,” Penelope said.

She meant to match his playfulness, but inside her heart was doing weird, skippy things.

How had he known? Not just that she wanted a hat but that she didn’t want to buy it for herself—by herself.

“You pick it out,” she told Bobby, once they were inside the crowded shop. “You know the Mets better than anyone.”

“Classic,” Bobby said without hesitation. “Definitely classic. Do you know your size?”

“Of course I know my hat size,” Penelope said with a mock-offended voice.

She caught Cole’s grin out of the corner of her eye. “A woman who knows her hat size, Bob. Is it any wonder we adore her?”

Her eyes flew to Cole, but he seemed unaware of what he’d just said, instead helping Bobby rifle through the disorganized mass of hats until they found her size.

She reached into her pocket for the cash she’d brought, but Cole held up a hand. “No way. The Sharpe brothers are paying for this and your dry cleaning bill.”

His eyes skimmed over her butter-splattered outfit, and Penelope didn’t think it was her imagination that his eyes lingered on certain body parts.

And it definitely wasn’t her imagination that the formerly comfortable shop had turned extremely warm.

Cole took her hat to the counter as she and Bobby debated whether it was okay that there were pink jerseys. She said no, he insisted yes.

When Cole made his way back to them, he plopped the hat on her head before curving his hands around the bill and applying gentle pressure in an attempt to get rid of the “new hat” look.

His eyes were warm as they locked on hers, and she had a pretty good feeling that if they were alone he would have kissed her.

And she had a really good feeling that she would have kissed him back.