Triple Time by Regina Kyle Page A

Gabe, who had once been called Heathcliff on the moors by a particularly astute lit major he’d dated.
    â€œJust as well.” Cade shrugged and swigged his beer. “I’d hate for your week to get even worse.”
    A buzzing in his back pocket stopped Gabe’s snappy comeback. He stashed his beer under his seat, pulled out his cell phone and swiped a finger across the screen to unlock it.
    One new message. From Devin.
    He hesitated, almost afraid to read it. Did she want to schedule their next little adventure? Or call the whole thing off? And which answer was he hoping for?
    â€œDevin?” Cade peered over his shoulder. “Why’s Elvira, Mistress of the Dark texting you?”
    Gabe winced at the nickname he and Cade had come up with for her back when Holly had first brought Devin home to Stockton. She’d reminded them of the horror hostess, with her wide eyes, full mouth and long inky black hair. She’d acted like her, too, all moody and mysterious.
    But she wasn’t, not really. Okay, she was sassy and sharp and sarcastic as hell. But she was also full of light and life and...
    â€œAre you going to open it or stare at your phone all damn day?” Cade asked.
    â€œOpen it.” Gabe tapped the screen, thankful that Cade had interrupted his thoughts before they crossed into the danger zone. The strains of “ Take Me Out to the Ballgame” rang through the stadium and the crowd stood for the seventh inning stretch and sang along.
    Gabe joined them—in the standing, not the singing—and read Devin’s message to himself.
    Phase two. Tomorrow. 7:00 p.m. My place.
    â€œPhase two of what?” Cade stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him, his eyes locked on the screen.
    â€œStop doing that. It’s an invasion of privacy.” Gabe turned away from his friend and texted back.
    Where are you taking me this time?
    He only had to wait a few seconds for a reply.
    It’s a surprise. You’ll like it, I promise. No dancing.
    He grinned and tapped out another message.
    That’s reassuring. But how will I know what to wear? I don’t want to be caught with my pants down, so to speak.
    Her answer came quickly.
    I’ve got it covered. Just get your butt to my place. And don’t be late.
    With a chuckle, he stowed the phone back in his pocket and sat.
    â€œSo are you going to tell me what the hell’s going on between you and Devin?” Cade crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat.
    â€œIt’s nothing. Really,” Gabe added when Cade raised an eyebrow.
    â€œFine. Don’t tell me, your best friend since kindergarten. The guy who took the fall for you when you broke your mother’s antique vase. Who helped you move to your first apartment in the city, up five flights of stairs. In July. With no air conditioning. Who—”
    â€œOkay, okay.” Gabe held up his hands in mock surrender. “I get the point.”
    He paused, debating how much to reveal and opting to leave out his part of the bargain. He had a feeling not many people knew about Devin’s brother, and he didn’t want to be the one to open that can of beans. “She’s helping me with a problem at work.”
    â€œOn a Saturday night? At her place?” Cade rolled his eyes and took another slug of beer. “And what, she’s a lawyer now? Last I heard she tended bar and tattooed the masses.”
    â€œYes, yes and no, she’s not a lawyer.” Gabe reached under his seat for his beer. Expensive Scotch and fine French wines be damned, some occasions called for a plain, old American Budweiser. And a ballgame on a sweltering summer evening was one of them.
    â€œThen how the hell is she helping you?”
    Gabe stared down at the field. Teixeira had a huge lead off first, daring the catcher to pick him off. “I’m running for DA. Filed the papers last week.”
    Cade clapped him on the back. “Holy crap, man.