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But then, I’m just being territorial, I tell myself. I’m a lion protecting my pride.

This isn’t personal. This isn’t a man looking out for his woman. This is just elemental. It’s basic male/female pack mentality, king-of-the-jungle shit. It’s a guy looking out for a girl he cares about. My job is to be her wingman on alert. To keep her safe. “You know I will, Josie, baby,” I say in her ear.

Baby?

What the fuck? I don’t use terms of endearment. I don’t utter sweet little nothings.

“Thank you,” she says as we separate. “It’s just this whole online dating thing is . . .” She draws a deep breath. “It’s fraught with challenges. I went out with someone a few months ago, and, well, let’s just say it didn’t work out.”

“Relationships have a way of doing that.”

She nods and quirks up her lips. “But I’m glad to have you to lean on.”

I tilt like the Tower of Pisa. “Lean on me.”

She nudges her shoulder against mine, and my heart beats faster. Like, way speedier than the normal resting heart rate. That’s odd. But I tell myself the quickened pace comes from a simpler place—from the human desire to be needed. The best gal I know needs me to be her reliable, steady guy. That’s what I’ll be for her. I won’t be the dude who thinks about her chest, or her legs, or her intoxicating hair. Hell, I already know that kicking a friendship up a notch can fuck up all sorts of shit.

It can ruin everything.

Including the heart.

When Josie steps away from me, the beating in my chest returns to normal. I point at her. “For you, I make house calls. The doctor is always in.”

She thanks me again, and I leave to meet my buddies at Joe’s Sticks, a pool hall in the east Fifties. Max, Spencer, Nick, and Wyatt are at a table, racking up. Max claps me on the back when I arrive. “How’s life on a sitcom working out for you?”

“Har, har, har.”

He thrusts a beer at me. “Three’s company yet?”

I take the bottle. “Except there’s only two of us.”

His dark eyes stare me down. “I can count. I can also speculate. And that little number—two—tells me it’ll be even harder for you,” he says, shaking his head as he hands me a pool cue. “You’re on my team. And I can’t wait to say I told you so.”

“That’s what I love about you. The endless well of support.”

“Always,” he says with a wink. He nods at the table. “You go first. I need my ringer.”

I say hello to the other guys and then line up my shot. I’m good at pool. It’s the focus. The concentration. The same skill set as sewing up a forehead. Yes, I have excellent hand-eye coordination, and it helps me kill it at the pool table. Max is a beast, too, so we’re like the one-two Summers brothers’ punch.

I line up and aim. I send the white ball straight into the purple ball, which races over the felt and rattles neatly into the corner pocket.

“Nice one,” Wyatt says from the corner of the table. Earlier, he texted me that his wife, Natalie, would be busy tonight doing wedding prep with Spencer’s wife, Charlotte. Yes, wedding prep. Wyatt and Natalie are already married, but they’re getting married again. They tied the knot in Vegas a little while ago, but they’re having a ceremony here in a few weeks for friends and family.

As I walk around the table, looking for the next shot, Wyatt says, “How’s life with my little sister?”

“Great,” I say. Because it is.

“What’s she up to tonight?”

I pause for a second, unsure if I should say what she’s doing. “She’s out.”

Spencer parks his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. “Code word for date.”

Nick straightens his spine and arches a brow at Spencer. “Seriously? My sister does not date.”

Spencer smacks his back. “Yup. Just like my sister didn’t date,” he says, giving him a sharp I-caught-you stare since Nick’s engaged to Spencer’s sister Harper.

Nick holds up his hands. “Fine, fine.”

Spencer pokes Nick with the cue. “Get used to it, buddy. Get used to your sister dating. I had to get used to it with you, of all people.”

I sink my shot, then miss the next one. When Nick takes his turn, Wyatt calls out to me, “Who’s the lucky guy tonight, and when do we need to beat him up?”

I shrug. “Don’t know.”

He stares sharply at me. “You don’t know?”

“Dude, I’m not her keeper.”

“I know, shithead. But you need to look out for her.” Wyatt points his beer bottle at me.

“Yeah, because men are pigs,” Max says, weighing in.

We all hold up our beers at that statement.

Later, Wyatt pulls me aside. “Seriously, man. Look out for Josie. She dated some guy last spring who really hurt her.”