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’ll see you at the game,” she whispers, stepping back and smoothing her hands down her dress.
“Count on it,” I say, my eyes still fixed on her.
She’s halfway out the door when I tug her back by the wrist, stealing another quick kiss that leaves her laughing. Then she’s gone, and I’m left standing in the open doorway, feeling like a teenager with a lovestruck grin plastered on my face.
A couple of hours later, I’m in the locker room at the stadium, pulling on my uniform pants and running through mental drills. The guys around me chat about everything from last night’s bar scene to the next big away game, but my mind keeps drifting to Kali—the way she fit against me, how her smile looked when she saw me cooking for her in the kitchen, the fact that she’s showing up to watch me play today without a whistle or chest protector.
I’m distracted enough that Fenway nudges me in the ribs. “Hey, Rip, you in there?” he teases, pulling on his socks. “Earth to Johnson.”
Mike leans over from the next bench, a grin stretching across his face. “He’s got that look. That ‘I just spent a killer night with somebody special’ look.”
Jace smirks, crossing his arms. “So, rumors are you’ve been hanging around a certain ump lately…”
I roll my eyes, though I can’t hide the flicker of a smile. “Yeah maybe I have.”
“Try to focus on the game today, okay?” Fenway laughs.
“Look, she’s not umping today, okay? She’s… coming to watch.”
“Oho, so it is serious!” Fenway prods, eyes dancing with mischief. “Come on, spill. We need details. Are we losing you to the dark side of officiating?”
“You’re not losing me anywhere,” I laugh, shoving my shoes into the bottom of the locker. “And I’m not about to give you some romantic play-by-play. Let’s just say… I like her.” A lot, I add silently, even if I can’t quite bring myself to admit it out loud in a room full of rowdy teammates.
A chorus of amused hoots and whistles goes up, making my cheeks burn. Mike claps me on the shoulder. “Good for you, man. Just don’t let her call balk on you off the field.”
“Ha, ha, hilarious,” I mutter, but my grin doesn’t fade.
We wrap up our pre-game routines, talk strategy, double-check our gear. My mind is half on baseball, half on the image of Kali in the stands, hopefully wearing that same soft look in her eyes she had this morning. And for the first time in what feels like ages, I step onto the field thinking less about pitching a perfect game and more about the woman who might just make all the chaos worth it.
14
Kali
I’m half-jogging up the concrete steps of the stadium when my nerves kick into overdrive. Calm down, Kali, I scold myself, pressing a hand to my stomach. My pulse is already fluttering like I’m on my way to a final exam. But this isn’t a test. It’s a minor league baseball game. And the only difference is that for the first time, I’m not on the field in an umpire’s uniform, barking out calls. I’m in the stands, about to watch Ripley pitch… as his maybe something more.
I spot Hattie and Juniper almost immediately, waving from a mid-level section of seats. Hattie’s wearing a ball cap, and Juniper’s bouncing excitedly on her tiptoes, blonde curls bouncing with every hop. I hurry over, trying not to grin too widely, but I’m pretty sure I’m failing.
“Kali!” Juniper squeals the second I’m within earshot. She practically tackles me around the waist. “You’re here! Dad said you might come.”
I steady myself so I don’t topple over. “Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it,” I say, ruffling her hair. “How was your big adventure with Aunt Hattie?”
Juniper’s eyes go wide with excitement. “We went to this cool science museum, and I touched a starfish in a tide pool—well, a pretend tide pool, but it was still real water. And then we ate the best cotton candy ever!”
“Sounds like you had a blast,” I reply, letting her tug me into a seat between them.
Hattie grins at me, lifting the brim of her cap in greeting. “You made it just in time. They’re about to do the national anthem.”
I nod, noticing the field below is already bustling with the pre-game routine. My eyes instantly zero in on Ripley near the dugout, stretching his arms behind him. He looks so good in that uniform—broad shoulders, trim waist, every motion precise and confident. My stomach does a little flip, and I have to remind myself not to stare like a love-struck teenager.
Juniper bounces in her seat. “Dad’s starting pitcher today, right? I heard Coach say he’s in top form.”
“He sure is,” Hattie agrees, snickering when she catches me still looking at Ripley. “Let’s hope it goes well. We need that win.”