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Looking up from the clipboard in my hand, I see my dog sprinting toward me with something in his mouth. Not even a second later, Mia appears in the doorway, dark hair flying, and a frantic look on her face as she chases after him. My curiosity is instantly piqued.

“Lezak, stop!” The dog keeps running. “Lezak, heel! ”

“We haven’t learned that one yet,” I call. Which only earns me a groan from her.

I squat down to meet the puppy at the same time Carter blows his whistle and yells, “Walk!”

Mia flips him off over her shoulder and speeds up. Thankfully, there are no kids here because we’d never get them to walk on the deck again. “Ronan, do not touch that!”

“Hey, boy,” I greet the pleased puppy once he reaches me. I pet him between his ears with one hand while I take what I now realize is a bra from his mouth. It’s deep purple and lacey. Well, shit. “Are you taking things that aren’t yours again?”

Mia slows to a stop right by us. “I’ll take that back.”

When I look up, she’s flushed, and holding her hand out. I’m not sure if it’s embarrassment or the jog that’s painted her cheeks. I stand, but keep the bra out of her reach.

“Ronan, come on!” She still has her hand out, toes tapping against the deck, but the red I can see on her ears confirms she’s embarrassed. “Give me the bra back. Your dog stole it!”

“‘Stole’ seems like a harsh word, don’t you think? He’s a retriever, he retrieves.” Being the glutton for punishment I am, I unfold the bra, and take a look at it, letting out a low whistle. “Damn.”

With a gasp, Mia lunges for it, but I move quicker. “Ronan, what the hell?”

I’m teasing her, making her squirm for fun. I’m definitely not picturing this against her pale skin or wondering why she has it at work but isn’t wearing it. That would be a bad idea.

“You’ve shown no proof of ownership. I’ve heard bras are expensive. How do I know—”

Smirking, she crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m at least a cup size bigger than both Kat and Josie, who are the only other women here. Does that suffice? ”

Although the statement has some interesting information in it, I don’t want to think about the bras my friends’ girlfriends wear. I hand it over to her. “How did he even get it?”

Huffing, she awkwardly holds it in her hand, not having anywhere to put it. “The strap on my bag broke. Your dog decided it was a prized possession and took off with it before I could pick everything up.”

“Maybe he just has good taste.” Giddy flutters whirl in my stomach when I see the flush come up her cheeks again. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you usually wear bras? Not bring them with you to work?”

A small smirk tugs at the corners of her lips, and I’m suddenly less sure about my teasing. “Because I have a date tonight and I need to leave right from work to get there.”

My breath catches in my throat, forcing me to make an embarrassing sound I refuse to put a name on. Her smirk grows, and I clear my throat. “And you need this bra over the others you own?”

“Well, sure.” She shrugs. “It’s pretty, right? And a girl should always wear a pretty bra on a date—whether it’ll end in hooking up or not.”

Instinctively, I take a step closer, my senses being assaulted by the faintest fragrance of her perfume—something fresh and airy that blends with the chlorine. “And are you planning on the night ending with a hookup?”

Mia gnaws at the corner of her lip, looking a little less sure of herself. “Who knows? I haven’t met this person yet. I don’t know if I’ll connect with them.”

A quick glance around the deck tells me we’re the only ones here. No one is watching us. I reach out, pulling her closer. She allows me. “Well, just remember, there is someone you have a connection with. ”

Her eyes flutter closed, and I fully expect her to close the distance between us, give into the growing tension. At the last second, she steps back, leaving me stunned. “What?”

“Let’s give this person a chance, Ronan,” she teases with a flirty smile. “Maybe I’ll find a connection with them. If not, I know where to find you.”

With a wink, she turns to head back toward the lobby, leaving me a stunned, sputtering mess. I’ve always been the one to flirt. Mia tends to go where I lead her, but this will-she-won’t-she thing is new. And I think I like it.

I look down at Lezak, who’s staring up at me with his tongue hanging out. “Next time you steal her bra, I better get a kiss out of it.”

He barks in response before sprinting after her.

Later that night, I’m standing outside a trendy restaurant dressed in a button-down and dress pants.

Waiting for a blind date to arrive is not how I wanted to spend my evening, but here I am.

Kat's been bugging me about meeting one of her clients, believing we'd hit it off, and I'd been avoiding the topic.

But after holding Mia's lacy bra in my hand, something shifted in me.

Especially knowing she was planning to wear it for someone else.

If Mia is being serious about finding someone special, someone who isn't me, then I need to let go of whatever pipe dream I have surrounding her. And the only way to do that is to start getting out there myself .

Jasmine had jumped at the opportunity to go out tonight. She'd replied to Katrina's message within mere minutes, and suddenly I had a date and a new contact in my phone.

I spent any free time I had during the day texting her, trying to get to know her even a little before sitting across the table from one another. She didn't budge, too interested in finding out where we were going and what she should wear.

I hate dates like this, where they require too much effort. I'd much rather go out to a casual place, dressed in an outfit that doesn’t require the world's most uncomfortable shoes and have a great time then feel like I’m putting on a performance.

A woman in a well-fitted gray dress that would look more at home in a courtroom than on a date approaches me. Which made sense, considering all Kat told me was that she's a lawyer and might be coming straight from work.

Katrina hadn't been lying about how beautiful Jasmine was. But she's a beautiful woman in a conventional way; the kind of beautiful a lot of people attribute to athletes. Her beauty pales into comparison to the one person I'm trying to forget.

I give her a warm, charming smile as she approaches. "You must be Jasmine."

Her smile is tight, but polite. "Are you Roman?"

My hand falters mid-shake as the name registers, but I quickly recover. "It's Ronan, actually."

She tilts her head in confusion. "What is?"

"My name." I frown. "My name is Ronan, not Roman."

"Oh, I'm sorry." She laughs, flicking her long caramel hair over her shoulder. "I'm horrible with names."

A trait that makes me question her ability as a lawyer, but whatever. "Should we get our table? "

She nods and then waits with an arched eyebrow until I move to pull the door open for her and lead her up to the hostess stand. "Hi, I have a reservation under O'Brien."

The hostess glances over the list before offering me a bright smile. "Right this way, Mr. O'Brien."

Neither Jasmine nor I say anything on our way to the table, which is on the large patio off the back of the restaurant.

It's a warm, but beautiful night. Small fire pits are scattered throughout the patio for cooler nights, but string lights with Edison bulbs create a warm atmosphere, especially when paired with the small lanterns adorning each table.

It's simple, but welcoming, and creates the perfect atmosphere for a first date. As soon as Jasmine is situated across from me, though, I conclude she doesn't agree.

"Is this all right with you?"

Startled, she looks up, and gives me another tight smile. "Fine."

"I don't mean to push, but I'm not sure I believe you?"

She shakes her head. "It's fine, I promise. I just don't like eating outside that much because outside has bugs."

"Oh, I should have asked. I love eating outside." Her grimace tells me this bit of information isn't something she wants to hear. "I can see if they're able to move us inside?"

"I said it's fine, Roman," she bites out and picks up her menu.

Sighing to myself, I ignore the name, and do the same.

Silence settles around us while we both look over the menu. So much silence that we're both ready to order when our server approaches. She orders the salmon and an expensive glass of wine, while I order a steak and a local beer.

"I have to say, you're not what I expected when Katrina told me you're an Olympian. "

Huh. I haven't heard that one before, and I'm not sure what it's supposed to mean.

"Well, I am," I reply. "I went in 2012 and 2016. I swam professionally from the time I graduated from college until I retired at the beginning of 2018."

She picks up her wineglass as soon as it hits the table, taking a long sip while studying me. "And what sport did you do?"

"Swimming." I smile and thank the server for my beer. "It's been part of my life for as long as I can remember, basically."

She hums under her breath. "Well, like I said, not what I was expecting."

I want to ask more questions, push the issue, and figure out what she means, but someone at a nearby table catches my attention. Apparently, I wasn’t the only person who thought this was a great place for a first date, because Mia's here with hers. The one the bra was for. My brain short circuits.

She looks beautiful, with her hair styled in dark waves and makeup fairly neutral except for the deep red lipstick. The loose-fitting cropped tee she's wearing showcases her tattoos, but the grimace at whatever her date is saying is the thing I notice most.

"You know, I looked you up."

My attention snaps back to Jasmine, a frown forming on my lips. "I'm sorry, what?"

She rolls her eyes, leaning back against her seat. "I said I looked you up online, but you can't be surprised by that, right? Katrina told me your name, and it’s a pretty common thing for women to do these days. Plus, you're a professional athlete—"