Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
We chat about random stuff as we cook—Juniper’s new dance moves, Hattie’s latest painting project—until dinner is almost ready. While Juniper sets the table, Hattie sidles up next to me, lowering her voice.
“Look, I’m not trying to pry,” she says gently, “but you and Kali? There’s something there, isn’t there?”
I scoff, shaking my head. “There’s nothing. She’s stubborn, rule-obsessed, infuriating… She cost me a run with that balk call.”
Hattie gives me a knowing look. “And yet, somehow, you’re excited to see her at tomorrow’s game. Right?”
My stomach does a weird flip, and I hate how easily she can read me. “I just want to make sure she doesn’t pull another stunt like that.”
“Mm-hmm,” Hattie hums, patting my arm. “Sure, that’s the only reason. I know that face, Riptide. You’re intrigued. And maybe a little…?”
I sigh. There’s no point lying to my sister. “Fine, maybe a tiny bit. But I shouldn’t be. I mean, come on. We clash like crazy. And Juniper—”
“What about Juniper?” Hattie prods.
“She’s getting attached,” I admit quietly. “I’m not sure how to handle it. I don’t want her to get let down.”
Hattie’s expression softens. She knows how protective I am of Juniper. “You’re a good dad, Rip. If Juniper enjoys Kali’s class, that’s a positive, no matter what you two have going on.”
“What we have going on is nothing,” I insist, even though a little voice in my head calls me a liar. “Now can we eat? I’m starving.”
Hattie shakes her head with a wry smile, and we gather at the table. Over bowls of pasta and sauce, we feast and talk about tomorrow’s game—my schedule, the team we’re up against. But in the back of my mind, I’m already imagining Kali, standing behind home plate in all her gear, unwavering in her calls. The idea of her eyes on me again makes my heart pound in a way I can’t quite name. Annoyance? Thrill? Both?
As we finish dinner and Juniper heads off to brush her teeth, I grab a dish towel and help Hattie clean up. She bumps her shoulder against mine. “You’d tell me if something changed, right?”
I shrug. “Sure. But nothing’s gonna change. This is just baseball. She’s the ump, I’m the pitcher, and that’s it.”
Hattie doesn’t push it further. Once the dishes are put away, we head home.
I tuck Juniper into bed, reading her a quick story about a puppy who finds its way home. She babbles for another minute about next week’s practice—Kali said something about practicing bunts and grounders. Then she dozes off with a smile on her face. As I watch her breathing softly, I can’t shake the image of Kali high-fiving my kid, telling her she has a good arm.
I head to my own bed, lying awake for a bit, replaying the day in my mind. I keep telling myself that I don’t want anything to do with Kali, that she’s infuriating. But there’s a part of me that’s itching to face her again.
Tomorrow, I think, closing my eyes. Tomorrow, I’ll show her that she can’t rattle me. But if I’m being honest with myself, I’m already rattled—and maybe a little more intrigued by the fiery umpire than I’d ever want to admit.
5
Kali
I’m perched on a rickety stool in the locker room’s tiny umpire prep area, struggling to re-tie my ponytail for the third time. My hands are shaking, which I keep telling myself is purely from the leftover adrenaline of last night. My Google obsession. I now know everything there is to know about Ripley ‘Riptide’ Johnson.
I glance at my phone propped up against a bottle of sports drink. Bristol’s face fills the screen, half of it obscured by a neon-pink scrunchie in her hair.
“I don’t get it,” she says, pushing the scrunchie aside so I can see her skeptical expression. “Why are you so nervous? You’re an ump, you do this all the time. Just call the game and move on.”
I blow out a breath, reaching for a fresh hair tie. “That’s the problem. I usually do this all the time, no issue. But now… Ripley’s going to be on that field. Last time we saw each other, we nearly came to blows.”
Bristol snorts. “You mean he nearly came to blows, and you casually reminded him you have all the power with your rulebook.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not helping.”
“Look,” she says more gently, “you just gotta do your job, same as always. Don’t overthink it. So he’s got pretty eyes and a killer smile—whatever.”
I flinch. “Bristol!”
“Hey, you said it yourself, he’s easy on the eyes,” she teases, waggling her eyebrows. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Ugh.” I rub my temples, feeling a headache threatening. “I gotta go. The game starts soon, and I still need to finish getting my gear together. Thanks for the pep talk… I think?”
She laughs. “Anytime, sis. Go knock ‘em dead.”