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)
I groan inwardly but decide I can’t exactly force a vow of secrecy. “Fine, just… don’t embarrass me in front of her, okay?”
“I won’t embarrass you,” Juniper says, but her tone is entirely too innocent.
We throw the ball a few more times until we hear Hattie shout from the back door, “Dinner’s ready! Tacos are on the table if you want them hot!”
“Let’s go,” I tell Juniper, ruffling her hair. My stomach rumbles in anticipation. The smell of spices and sizzling meat has been drifting through the yard, reminding me I haven’t eaten much all day.
Juniper darts inside ahead of me, practically skipping. By the time I step into the kitchen, she’s already in full chatter mode—something about how well she threw the ball and how excited she is to show Kali next time they practice. I slip off my glove and set it on the counter, then turn just in time to see Juniper lean across the kitchen island, her voice loud enough to echo.
“Kali!” she announces with breathless enthusiasm, “Daddy says you look like a pretty princess in your dress! But he doesn’t want to be embarrassed.”
Time slows to a crawl, and I swear my face catches on fire. All the chatter in the kitchen abruptly dies, and Hattie’s eyes flick to me with pure glee. Kali’s cheeks flush pink, and she sets the plate of tortillas down. For a moment, the only sound in the room is the gentle hum of the fridge.
“I—uh—” I stammer, my hands hovering uselessly by my sides. I risk a glance at Kali, whose eyes have gone wide. There’s a flicker of something—surprise, maybe pleasure?—before she quickly schools her expression.
“Wow,” she says, her voice light but tinged with humor. “That’s… very sweet, Juniper.”
Hattie chokes out a laugh. “Oh, it sure is sweet.”
I glare at her, wishing I could sink into the floor. “I told Juniper—well, she asked me—” My words come out in a jumbled mess, and I can’t remember the last time I felt so flustered. Normally, I’m the cool-headed one under pressure. But apparently, a six-year-old and a stunning woman in a sundress are enough to shatter that image.
“Relax,” Kali murmurs, picking up a bowl of guacamole and moving closer to me. “No harm done, right?”
The mild scent of her perfume drifts my way, mixing with the aroma of tortillas and taco seasoning. I suddenly realize how close she’s standing, and it sends a jolt of awareness through me. “Right,” I say hoarsely. “No harm.”
“Let’s just say I appreciate the compliment.” She gives me a small, almost playful smile, then turns back to Juniper. “You guys ready to eat?”
“Starving!” Juniper shouts, springing into a chair.
Hattie sets bowls of salsa and cheese on the table, still grinning like she’s witnessing a prizefighter get KO’d. I rub the back of my neck, trying to regain some composure. The four of us gather around the table, and for a moment, I can’t help but think: this feels strangely… nice. Domestic. Comfortable. If you’d told me a week ago that I’d be having dinner with the very umpire who made my blood boil, I’d have laughed in your face. Yet here we are, passing plates of tortillas and toppings around like old friends.
I keep one eye on Kali throughout the meal, watching how easily she banters with Hattie and giggles with Juniper. It’s baffling—how can she fit in so effortlessly when I’ve known her for barely a handful of days? But every time she catches me looking, I feel that flutter again, and I glance away, hoping nobody notices. If Juniper’s earlier statement is anything to go by, my daughter’s paying attention to every move I make.
We dig into tacos, discussing trivial things like the next rec center practice or random local gossip. Each bite of food somehow tastes better than usual, and I can’t decide if it’s Hattie’s cooking or just the strange, warm atmosphere. At some point, I realize I’m smiling—like a genuine, easy grin that’s been missing from my life for a while.
By the time we set our plates aside, the sun’s sinking low outside the kitchen window, casting a golden hue through the curtains. Kali leans back in her chair, looking content. Juniper’s already asking for dessert, rattling off possibilities like ice cream or brownies, her excitement never once dimming.
As for me, I’m thinking about how completely unexpected this night has been. And how I’m not entirely sure I want it to end. Despite the embarrassment, despite our rocky start, there’s something about Kali that makes me feel… alive. Maybe it’s her quick wit, or the way she brings out my daughter’s best qualities, or that sundress that has my heart beating triple-time. Whatever it is, I’m not about to admit it openly yet.
Instead, I clear my throat and lean forward, fiddling with a stray napkin. “So… who’s up for dessert?” I say, feigning casualness. “We’ve got, uh, ice cream. Or I could run out and get something else, if you want.”