Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Eve stood in front of him in shorts that would drive a man of the cloth to a life of sin, hip cocked, waist-length blond hair unbrushed and every inch of her gorgeous, making no move to put on a robe and end his suffering. Instead, she stood there with an eyebrow raised, obviously not accustomed to him being so high-handed, but by god, his patience with Eve was running out.
It had been just over four years since he’d allowed his feelings for Eve to transform from friend and protector to something more. Much more. An additional heartbeat, one might say. Since that graduation party her senior year, where he’d made his intentions clear to no avail, he’d continued to return to Cumberland every summer and Christmastime, praying this would be the time Eve finally gave him a chance.
She never did.
Was he delusional to keep trying? From the outside looking in, perhaps he was. Then again, it was impossible to describe what happened between Eve and Madden when they were in the same room. To put it plainly, the ground shook.
And goddammit, she felt it too.
He wasn’t so delusional that he couldn’t look at the woman he’d studied relentlessly and not see the yearning. It existed. And it only got stronger. So he returned and he returned to Cumberland, waiting for her to be ready. One such attempt had taken place at Eve’s Gilded Garden two weeks ago. Madden had gone to look her in the eye and gather the proof of her feelings. The proof that allowed him to keep going. He’d expected to find her in the office or managing the establishment from behind the bar; he’d found her onstage, instead.
Preparing to take off her clothes.
To say he’d had an overreaction would be an understatement.
At least he’d thought so. Until she revealed her reason for performing—a way to drum up some business by inciting the gossip that had plagued her since birth.
Madden stood by that overreaction now.
“You’ve been what? The Yankees?” Even in the midst of his frustration, he couldn’t keep from savoring the way her amber eyes lit up like the sun itself, her hands flying to her mouth to catch a gasp. “You’re going to be catching for the actual New York Yankees?”
He inclined his head.
If his own excitement remained suspiciously absent, Eve’s was more than sufficient to replace it. Not that he wasn’t grateful for the opportunity to play professionally. So many of his teammates throughout the years would never get the chance. This contract was the reason he stood in front of Eve now with something to offer. His love for the game, however, had always been mired in . . . discomfort.
When Madden arrived from Ireland at age sixteen, baseball was totally new to him. He’d learned the game—and specifically the art of catching—to fit in. To appease his pushy as hell friend, Elton. To belong in a way he hadn’t back home.
But oftentimes, baseball tended to make him feel fraudulent. Could the sport be any less Irish? He’d left his family behind and now his heritage, as well. It was so easy to hide behind a catcher’s mask and a chest protector, he almost resented the ease with which he’d slipped out of his old life and into a new one. As if the past never happened.
It had, though. The burden on his shoulders was the proof.
Still, when Eve now walked straight into his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, her smoked peach scent clobbering his senses, every grueling game day, practice in the rain, and moment spent second-guessing himself was worth the soft feel of her, the watery laugh against his shoulder.
“That’s amazing. Oh my god, that’s so amazing.”
“What’s amazing?”
Eve released him abruptly, and Madden had to clench his fists to prevent himself from drawing her back. “Madden is going to play for the Yankees,” Eve breathed.
Twin expressions of disgust looked back at him.
“Ew,” said Landon, simply.
“Fuck the Yankees,” Lark spat.
“Lark!” Eve half gasped, half laughed. “We don’t use that word!”
Landon broke into a giggling fit. “Where is our toast?”
“Yeah.” Lark looked around at everyone’s faces, obviously encouraged by the stir she’d caused. “Where is our fucking toast?”
Eve had to turn around, her sides shaking as she laughed into her crooked elbow. “Lark, one more time and there’s no dessert for a week.”
“What the—”
“Lark.”
Madden turned, as well, trading a glance of shocked amusement with Eve on his way into the kitchen, where he flipped open the breadbox and removed the plastic sleeve of sourdough, disposing of the blackened first attempt at toast from the toaster with a quick sign of the cross that made Eve’s eyes sparkle. Before she got ahold of herself, at least, and sobered.
“The bus is going to be here in five minutes.” She clapped her hands. “Clothes. Shoes. Now. We’ll eat the toast on the way to the bus stop.”