Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“Right between the eyes,” the other one says right before she licks a gob of mustard off her bun.
I shake it off and get back into the game, focusing on the pitcher as I swing the bat and stay loose.
“Too fast for you?” Colin asks with a grin.
“Too high,” I tell him. “I’m not swinging over my head.”
“Alright,” he says as he steps back. “Try this one.”
He launches another fastball at me and I’m surprised at how much straighter and faster it is. I react immediately, swinging with a grunt as I put my whole body into it. The ball nails the sweet spot and it takes off like a meteorite. Home run. Fuck yeah. I drop the bat and start jogging.
“Holy shit,” Sheriff Gray says as he watches the ball disappear over the fence into the forest.
“Who are you?” the first baseman asks as I round the base.
“Officer Finch,” I say, tipping my cap. And your worst nightmare for the next seven innings…
I stomp on second base and someone in the outfield catches my eye. It’s the centerfielder. He’s staring right at me all slack-jawed like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. The other two outfielders are hopping over the fence to find the ball, but all of his focus is on me. I stumble a little as I stare back at him.
He’s hot. Like really hot. He looks older than the others. Probably in his early fifties or so. A total silver fox.
But why is he looking at me like that?
“Nice hit,” the shortstop says, jerking my attention away from the man. “You probably knocked the stitches off the ball.”
“Thanks,” I say, smiling shyly as I round third and jog home.
The rest of my team pours out of the dugout, cheering and waving me on as I jog to home plate. I stomp my foot on it and they all slap my shoulders and tell me how amazing that hit was.
Everyone on my team looked so defeated when I got here, but I think my hit just gave everyone a burst of life. You can feel the energy crackling amongst them as we head back to the dugout.
“We’re going to win now for sure,” Sheriff Gray says, grinning as he flashes the centerfielder a bitter look.
I look at him too and my body gets all hot and tingly when I see that man’s dark simmering eyes still locked on me. He’s staring at me with a deep lustful look like I’m all his. Like he owns me. He looks like he wants to take me away from here and get to third base.
“How’s that arm?” Sheriff Gray asks. “Are you ready to pitch?”
“I’m ready, Sheriff Gray,” I say, warming my shoulder up.
“Call me Ryland.”
It’s the first time he’s told me that. Everyone on the force was calling him Ryland but me. I was always calling him Sheriff Gray and he never corrected me. I guess I’m finally in the club now.
It feels good.
Ryland grabs a bat and heads over to the plate.
I link my fingers on the fence and watch with a smile on my face as he talks shit with the pitcher, but it’s friendly.
This is just the most perfect day. This place is even better than I dreamed of when I first heard of this small mountain town in Montana. The sun is shining and this park is just unreal. The jutting mountains in the distance give the place the most ethereal feel, like I’m in some kind of fantastical far-off fantasy land. It’s stunning.
Colin throws a pitch and it hits the home plate, bouncing up before the catcher grabs it.
“Don’t you dare walk me,” Ryland says, shaking his head.
“You think I’d walk you on purpose?” Colin says with a laugh. “Who do you think you are? Barry Bonds?”
“Just throw the pitch. Above my ankles this time.”
Everyone is chuckling as they keep heckling each other. Colin throws a fastball and Ryland cracks it.
It heads straight to center field and my heart starts racing when I look at the silver fox hottie.
He’s still looking at me…
I’m distracting him for some reason because the ball goes sailing over his head. He could have caught it and probably would have if he wasn’t too busy checking me out.
“Come on, Graham!” the guy at second base, a short chubby guy with big ears says as he throws his arms up. “Get your head in the game!”
Ryland takes off running, sprinting around the bases with his muscular legs pumping. He gets to third before the left fielder grabs the ball and launches it to the catcher at home plate.
“Hey, who’s that guy in center field?” I ask my partner Henry in the most casual way I can. “I haven’t seen him around.”
“That’s the fire chief,” Henry says. “Graham West.”
Fire chief, huh? Interesting…