Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
While she listens to a conversation on the phone, which is probably a vendor of ours, she covers the microphone with her hand, and whispers, “What time are you going to the stadium today?”
I hold up four fingers, then waggle them. “Are you still bringing Jacob with you?” I whisper back.
She nods. “We should be there by five.” Returning to her call, she says, “But we ordered eight cases for the Mider reception. Five won’t cover it, so what do you suggest?”
I return to the mass of emails that have accumulated in my inbox since I didn’t bother returning to the office yesterday. After getting soaked, I went home to take a much-needed bath, then enjoyed dinner with my favorite little guy. That more than made up for the rotten ending to the workday.
Despite the emails demanding my attention, I’m still slightly distracted by this Greene guy. Sure, he’s rude and utterly intolerable from our brief encounter, but I’m a little thrown by his biography. His hardened gaze pops into the forefront of my mind, and I have a difficult time reconciling the man I met with the one I just learned about. Everything happened so fast, though, so maybe I was blinded by rage and didn’t give him a chance to right the situation.
Why do I always have to be the bigger person?
It’s a weakness I really need to overcome.
Get the paperwork signed, check out these apparently notable eyes, and get out. No harm. No foul. No more encounters. I like having a plan, and this one is now in place.
Knowing I have a confrontation ahead of me, I click open the first email and get busy replying.
Despite the rain yesterday, no humidity clings to the air. Thank goodness.
It’s a perfect spring day. My hair looks amazing to boot, putting me in a great mood. Bonus: I’m not sweating through the thin tee I put on before coming out to the field today.
April is such a perfect weather month in Texas. Though I know summer is just around the corner to torture me again, I’ll enjoy seventy-degree temps while I can.
I wave to Coach Barth when I come out of the tunnel into the sunlight of the field and climb the stairs to a different section of the stands to mix it up today. As I settle onto the metal bench and set my bag beside me, the players switch positions. Just my luck, the third baseman is my direct line of sight, which means I’m in his as well.
Annoyance wriggles through my good mood, souring it. No, don’t let him win. Maybe he was having a bad day. Or perhaps he gets hit up by fans all the time. I imagine that could be quite tiresome some days. Or maybe, Cricket, he’s just an asshole baseball player. It’s probably the latter despite wanting to try to justify his behavior yesterday.
I glance at the large manila envelope holding the contract, unsure when to approach him to sign. I figure after practice would be best, judging by the nice day that remains, as it won’t be called off like yesterday due to rain.
After watching a few plays, I grin. The team out of Rockwall isn’t going to know what hit them. With current minor league players and a former major leaguer, the Armadillos are looking the best they ever have. My spy in Rockwall texted me that they also scored a Major League player, but that doesn’t shake my confidence. I believe in our ’Dillos.
I wish my parents did. Why spend the money to own a team if you don’t care about the game or the players? At least, Savvy and I enjoy it.
I grab my bottle of water and take a drink. The lack of breeze causes the sun to beat down stronger, but I start to wonder if it’s the heat rolling off Greene. I’d put my glasses on to verify, but I don’t need to. I can feel his eyes on me. It’s equally unnerving and intriguing.
Footsteps running across the metal floors on my aisle pull my gaze to the source. I open my arms just as Jacob runs into them. I kiss his head, tucking mine against him and savoring his sweet little hugs. “Hi,” I whisper, leaning back to see the blue eyes that matter most to me in this world. “How’s my little guy?”
“We got to milk a goat, Mommy.”
“You did?” Lowering my head so our eyes are level, I ask, “How was that?”
“Weird.” I laugh, though he was being serious. I get it. I was always more of a winery girl than a farm gal. He hops onto the seat next to me. “Who’s playing?”
“This is the all-star team and some of our Armadillo players. They’re going to play a game to raise money for the two local high schools. Isn’t that neat?”