Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
“If they’re this bad, why do they keep playing?” Kenny asked, trying hard not to stare at Smith, who had spent the first half flapping about in the goalkeeper’s net, saving precisely zero of the nine shots at goal from their young opponents.
Which meant they were down nine-zero.
Being a terrible goalkeeper didn’t stop him from looking damned good in his bright blue keeper’s kit, though.
And it didn’t help that for some reason the small sports field boasted an incongruous big screen on the other end of the field. The team’s every blunder was replayed to the glee of the crowd.
It also meant that Smith’s hard, rangy body, decked out in the long-sleeved top and knee-length shorts, gleaming with sweat beneath the bright stadium lights, was constantly up on that screen. And seeing him there, larger than life, did unfortunate things to Kenny’s overactive libido.
She tried her level best to shut down the damned hormones. It wasn’t helping. Just because the man was beautiful and fit and somehow more appealing because of his ineptitude at this sport didn’t mean she could salivate over him like this.
She desperately shifted her focus back toward Tina who, thankfully, hadn’t noticed Kenny’s preoccupation and was still speaking.
“Believe it or not, they all really enjoy this. The kids are having fun, and when they’re here, they’re not out there possibly getting into trouble.”
“Are the men letting them win?”
“Oh, God, no. They’re just awful football players. Sam, Mason, and Grey are halfway decent. And in the beginning Sam really tried to whip the team into shape. But it was an exercise in futility and frustration. It’s hard to believe that a group of perfectly healthy, insanely in-shape men can be so bad at this sport. But here we are. Every second Saturday night we sit and we cheer, but we know they don’t stand a chance in hell of winning.”
“They used to play every week,” Libby chimed in from Kenny’s other side. “But Spencer recognized that the kids needed some decent opponents to play against. So on the weekends that they’re not soundly trouncing our husbands, they’re playing friendly, more evenly matched games which Spencer organizes with schools, or other youth groups in neighboring towns. These games have become a community event. Everybody comes out and makes a night of it.”
Kenny could see that. She’d been surprised by just how many of the local townsfolk had come out for the game. The modestly sized bleachers were full and a lot of people simply picnicked on the grassy verge next to the bleachers.
It was a cheerful, family-oriented atmosphere.
Tina and her friends were all in attendance. A lot of them had brought their children, most of whom were only toddlers and infants. Libby’s oldest daughter, Clara, was the oldest child in the group at three and a half years old.
MJ’s catered the event, selling snacks and drinks, with a hundred percent of the profit going directly to the youth center.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere with such a lovely sense of community,” Kenny murmured as her eyes trailed around the small sports field.
“It’s a very close-knit town.” Tina’s eyes shone happily as she looked around at her friends and neighbors. “Libby and I stopped here purely on impulse three years ago.”
Libby made a fond sound of agreement, her smile nostalgic.
“We ate at a grand but shabby restaurant,” Tina continued.
“The food was okay, but the menu needed serious work,” Libby interjected.
“Yes, but it was the heart of this little town,” Tina said. “And I loved that it had my initials, MJ.” Kenny tended to forget that her sister-in-law’s given name was Martine. “Buying it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. But it was one of the best ones I’ve ever made. This place…it’s wonderful.” Her gaze landed on Harris, who stood in the middle of the field, hands on his narrow hips, having what looked like a heated dispute with his twin.
Smith was between them, clearly trying to cool tempers. He said something and those identical dark heads swung toward him simultaneously.
For a moment they just stared at him and then the sound of Harris’s laughter was carried toward them on the wind, along with Greyson’s rustier chuckle.
Just Smith being Smith, pouring oil on troubled waters, being the good guy. The problem solver. The man everybody wanted in their corner.
It was a talent she’d always envied and been drawn to.
Now, as she watched his face light up with a smile, she resented it. Hated how that warmth still drew her in. She was the moth to his flame and she needed to stop placing herself in his radius because she was heartily sick of her wings getting singed.
She was a goddamned masochist was what she was.
His eyes lifted and met hers. And that warm smile faded from his lips.
Because that’s what Kenny did. She stole the smile right off his face. Robbed it from his eyes.