Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Don’t get her drunk before she’s even warmed up!” my brother calls after us. “Game starts in ten minutes!”
“Is Cruz here?” I ask as we walk off. I love my nephew. He has adorable chubby cheeks and a smile that makes me melt. I hope I have a little boy just like him someday.
“I dropped him with Queenie. She’s taking him to the park, but the plan is for them to come watch the end of the game so she can buy him one of everything from the concession stand.”
I grin. “That’s my boy.”
By the time we make it over to the dugout, the rest of our team has come in off the field. At this crucial moment, the other team is running through a ten-part pregame strategy. Meanwhile, our guys are shotgunning beers.
Pam and Jimmy O’Neal wave to me and Hunter grins from where he’s bent over, wiping beer off his mouth. There’s also Lee—Hunter’s uncle—and his wife Tammy. The brunette woman in the corner getting water isn’t immediately recognizable, though to be fair it’s been a while since I’ve been in town.
“Who’s that?” I ask Lindsey quietly enough.
“Oh, Charlotte. Moved here about two years back for a job at the elementary school.”
When she straightens up, I see she’s bedazzled the front of her tight t-shirt with glitter iron-on letters spelling out H-E-A-T-W-A-V-E. Her hair is meticulously arranged in two bubble braids. Her water bottle is adorned with stickers that say YOU CAN DO IT and DON’T MAKE ME USE MY RED PEN and IT’S A TEACHER THING.
Lindsey sees me assessing her and smiles a knowing smile. “She’s nice.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
She bumps my hip with hers. “You didn’t have to.”
Charlotte tightens her braids and heads over to Sawyer with a determined look. He’s leaning against the dugout door, writing something on a clipboard when he glances up and smiles at her. I’m sure her stomach is doing the exact same thing mine is: a diabolical little squeeze. Truly, it’s unbearable to look at him like this. His jaw is clean-shaven and chiseled (rude!), his red t-shirt stretches nicely over his broad shoulders (not fair!), and he’s turned his baseball cap backward (criminal!).
He says something to Charlotte I can’t make out and then his gaze cuts over her head as he spots me. Whatever simple tug I felt when he smiled at Charlotte is nothing compared to this. No one—not even Matthew—has ever had this kind of effect on me. I wonder if it happens to everyone. What a superpower!
He nods for me to come over, and I hold up my finger and turn like I’m going to ignore him.
“Now, McCall!”
My jaw drops. Though his tone was light, almost teasing, he still shouted loudly enough that everyone in the dugout stops what they’re doing to watch me follow his orders.
Kendra’s diabolical plan from earlier jumps to mind, and I tip ever so slightly toward her camp. Maybe I could be that vigilante hero she needs.
Sawyer’s brown eyes stay pinned on me until I’m in front of him. It’s a weird little triangle we form, Charlotte, Sawyer, and me. I’m taller than her, but not by much, and we’re both dwarfed by Sawyer.
“I was just going to get a margarita,” I tell him, not bothering to hide my sass.
“You can get one later. I need to know what position you want to play.”
I look down at his clipboard, but his baseball lingo looks like a foreign language. “Aren’t you just going to stick me in the outfield? I suck.”
He tips his head. “If that’s where you want to be, then sure. But if you want to try out another spot, we can shift things around. Doesn’t have to be that serious.”
Is he kidding? At this very moment the other team is rattling the chain-link dugout walls and chanting a battle cry.
“I’m playing outfield too.” Charlotte chimes in to try to smooth the choppy waters.
I scowl at her, realizing too late that there’s no real reason for me not to be nice to this girl. I don’t know her; I don’t have a problem with her. So what if she’s standing a little too close to Sawyer? Or that up close it’s impossible not to see how pretty she is?
Sawyer performs the customary greetings. “Charlotte, this is Madison, David’s sister.”
She extends her dainty hand, and we shake. Her smile is friendly and accommodating, everything I’m not being.
“I love Dave!”
“Me too,” I add dully.
She giggles, and I realize she reminds me of someone.
Me. The version of me back at Auburn, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
“Charlotte, you want a margarita?” Pam calls to her.
“Maybe just a small one!”
She smiles and gushes that it was great to meet me, and I watch her walk away, knowing it’ll give me the opportunity to regroup before I have to refocus my attention on Sawyer. His gaze takes me in with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue; panic rises immediately, this fear that he might try to pick up where we left off at John’s Ice House, and then what will I do? I can practically feel Kendra like a devil on my shoulder, dancing a little jig. DESTROY HIM. DISEMBOWEL HIM. STOP AT NOTHING.