Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Emma watched Greer, astonished by the change that had come over her. So long to the quiet, reserved child. This one bubbled with effervescence.
Greer was the size of someone a few years younger—smaller than most in her age group and quieter than all. Emma had wondered for a while if a lack of decent food and sleep had resulted in her child being developmentally slow. But seeing this side of her cracked her heart wide open.
“Great. I can’t wait to see you bat. I heard you took all of Brandon’s pitches after I left.” He pointed over her shoulder toward a set of doors at the end of the hallway. “They’re out at the field now, doing some warmups. You should get going so you can get stretched out as well.”
“Mama?”
Emma bent and brushed a kiss along her daughter’s cheek, fighting the urge to draw her close and burrow her face against her, just holding on to that smell of innocence. “Go.”
Greer bolted.
“Greer?” Emma called out.
Her daughter skidded to a stop and looked over her shoulder.
“Have fun.”
“Bye, Mama.” She was out the doors in a flash.
No way could she deny her this chance to play. Attention returned to the young man in front of her, she smoothed her hands down her shirt.
“Does Mr. Conner have a moment? If he’s here?”
“He’s out at the baseball field.”
She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Same direction my daughter bolted?”
Sammy smiled and nodded, his braids moving with the motion. “You got it.”
“Thank you.”
Her shoes squeaked on the floor as she walked to the far doors and she paused for a moment before heading out. Despite this center having been open for months now, she’d not really done much exploring. But, damn, it was impressive.
The facilities were better than those at the school. She knew that because she was at the school fairly often. It was sad how often she was in the building trying to get the teachers to realize that Greer wasn’t dumb because she didn’t speak up a lot, if ever. And having heard her talking about angles and numbers, she was thinking they were right and she needed to be tested. She scanned the football field and the guys running on the track around it. Slicing her gaze to the left, she found the baseball field and walked in that direction. Laughter filled the air, combined with the sound of the birds in the surrounding trees.
Several groups of kids moved around the field. She found Greer running in the last group.
The protective mother in her wanted to scream they shouldn’t make the smaller kids feel bad about not being able to keep up, but as she stood watching, he moved between the groups with an ease she envied, talking and encouraging each group to keep going.
Emma realized she’d misunderstood what was going on. It wasn’t a free-for-all where kids were trying to race one another, making the smallest ones last. They were far better organized—grouped together by age or maybe size.
These must be the teams he’ll be making. So he’s keeping them together. Bonding.
A walk around the field caused her to be out of breath and sweaty. She wasn’t in good shape. Then again, maybe it was the man who was putting her out of breath.
Franklin “Linc” Conner was nothing less than a work of art. He ran shirtless, as did a bunch of the guys, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from him. His dark skin shone with sweat and his muscles rippled as he moved. His longer hair continually fell in his eyes but he didn’t seem to mind.
Her fingers itched to touch him, push the hair back and… Oh yeah, my batteries will be getting a workout tonight.
Gut clenching when his gaze locked on her, she gripped the chain-link barrier that had been put up to protect people behind the plate. Emma didn’t move.
Linc lengthened his stride, slowing by the lead group and speaking to them. As he headed across the field to her, picking up speed, she noticed one of the older children, a tall redheaded young woman, drop back to run with the smallest group.
The mother in her approved of how everyone was watched over.
She licked her lips the closer he came and whimpered, grateful that she was alone and he couldn’t hear it. As he approached, he planted large hands on his waist, bringing even more attention to both the power in his arms as well as the eight pack he had. Seriously? Eight? Weren’t those reserved for the swoony heroes in romance novels and photoshopped athletes on the covers of magazines? Those indentations above his pants—what was it called, an Adonis belt?
Holy hell. Were men really made like that?
And since when had forearms become sexy? She was officially into arm porn now.
Touching. Yes, yes, yes. She longed to do that.