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)
I let another fastball rip. This time, he tries to swing at it, but he misses wildly and nearly falls to the dirt as he stumbles forward.
“Strike!” the umpire shouts.
Doug kicks the dirt and then circles around, huffing and puffing he’s so upset.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say as the catcher throws me the ball. “Getting struck out by a girl isn’t as bad as you think. You’ll see.”
He shoots me another bitter look as he raises his bat.
I let another one rip, faster and harder than the first two. He swings, but his bat only crosses the plate after the ball is already in the catcher’s glove.
“Strike three!” the umpire shouts.
“Do you have to yell it so loud?” Doug mutters as he shuffles back to the bench with his shoulders slumped.
“Go, Kylee!” the firefighters shout as a tiny girl walks over to the plate.
She looks pretty fit and athletic, but I doubt she’s any good because she looks terrified to face me. I feel bad, so I give her something she can hit—it is for charity after all.
The ball rolls to Emmanuel at third base. He throws it to first, but she gets there a split second earlier.
“Safe!” the umpire shouts.
I smile when I see her jumping around, looking ecstatic.
“Way to go, baby!” Aiden from the Search and Rescue says, looking so damn proud.
I’ll go easy on the girls, but the boys aren’t getting any mercy from me.
“Here we go…” I whisper as Mr. Hot Fire Chief grabs a bat and walks over to the plate.
He never takes his heated eyes off me as he digs his feet into the dirt and starts swinging the bat with those massive arms. His sexy shoulders are hypnotizing me with the way they’re rippling and moving. God, he’s hot.
I run my fingertips over the stitches in the ball as I get a full-body shiver.
“Let’s go, Grandpa!” one of the twins behind the fence says. The other twin comes over with a fresh plate of nachos and two large sodas. “Don’t have a heart attack while you’re swinging.”
He ignores them, keeping his smoldering eyes on me. This man is throwing me off a little. He’s got me all shaken up.
I pull my arm back and throw the ball down the middle. It’s not nearly as fast as my other pitches and he probably could have hit it out of the park judging by those hard, strapping arms, but he doesn’t even swing.
“Strike,” the umpire says as the catcher throws the ball back to me.
“Why didn’t you swing?” I ask him. “That was right down the middle.”
He exhales long and hard as his sexy eyes bore into me. “I don’t want to accidentally hit you.”
I tilt my head to the side, glaring at him. “You should worry about me hitting you. Swing, or I’m aiming for your head.”
Those sexy lips curl up into a wolfish smile as I get ready to throw another pitch. This one has a bit more heat to it. It tears through the space between us and he swings hard. He connects, but it goes straight up, sailing over the fence, and it comes down hard into the crowd.
“Watch out!” someone shouts.
The ball lands on the twins’ huge nacho plate with a loud smack, sending melted queso and sticky soda flying all over them. They scream as they get drenched in it. Everyone at the park bursts out laughing. They’ve been annoying everyone all day and finally got what they deserved.
The crowd claps, cheers, and whistles as the twins hurry off to the bathroom to clean themselves up.
“Strike two,” the umpire says as I get the ball back.
I’m surprised he hit that. It had some crazy heat on it, but I guess he’s as quick and coordinated as he is strong.
Instead of my fastball, I throw a curve on the next pitch. He lets it go, thinking it’s a ball, but it curves back in and the umpire yells ‘Strike!’
Graham stands up, grinning in amusement as he watches me. “Very good,” he says, nodding. “Very good.”
I love how he took it like a good sport and didn’t throw a tantrum like Emmanuel or Doug. He’s all class, smiling at me before walking back to the dugout with his shoulders back and his chin held high.
He doesn’t look like the type of man who’s threatened by women. He’s too confident for that.
My crush deepens as I watch him head to his water bottle for a drink.
He’s so hot. I want him back on the plate where I have an excuse to shamelessly stare at him. I should have thrown him a few balls to make it last longer.
But it’s too late now… Another big muscular fireman with tattoos all over his skin comes over with the bat resting on his massive shoulder.