Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“I live here as well,” I tell her. “My brother and his family live here. He teaches at the public high school and coaches baseball there.”
“Your brother is Brian. I knew it was him!” She laughs. She only met him once, but she heard me talk about him often. “He’s running the baseball camp Hunter is going to. I haven’t seen him, but when I heard his name, deep down I knew it was him.”
Hunter… And then it hits me. The kid whose father forgot to pick him up. Motherfucker. Of course it would be Richie—and no, I’m not calling him Richard. That’s dumb and he’s a dumbass for trying to change his name.
“I know Hunter,” I tell her. “I’m helping out at the camp this summer.”
Her eyes go wide. “I had a feeling you were. I saw that you retired, and when Bridget mentioned a retired player from the Reds was helping out, I thought about you. I should’ve put two and two together.”
“Is that the only time you’ve thought about me?”
She doesn’t answer right away, but the heat creeping up her neck gives me my answer. She has.
Still, I need her to say the words. “Harper,” I prompt. “Have you thought about me? Because I’ve thought about you almost every goddamn day,” I admit, putting it all on the table, because fuck it. She’s single. I’m single. And it’s got to be fucking fate that has us sitting across from each other on a blind date.
“Every day,” she admits softly. She reaches for her glass of wine and takes a sip. When she goes to set it down, she’s not paying attention and the bottom of the glass lands on part of her fork. The glass almost falls over, but I catch it before it can—only a small amount sloshing out.
“I’m such a freaking mess,” she says, completely exasperated. She glances up at me and her beautiful lips are turned down in the saddest frown. Her eyes are glossed over, and she looks as if she’s about to cry.
Moving closer, I reach over and cup the side of her face, wiping the single tear that’s escaped. “I’ve always loved how clumsy you are. When we were together it made me feel like a knight in shining armor when I would be the one to pick you up when you would fall.”
“Landon,” she breathes, her gorgeous green eyes meeting mine.
Running my thumb over her plump lip, I imagine what it would be like to kiss her. To taste the wine on her tongue. To get drunk off her scent alone. “I can’t believe it’s really you,” I murmur. “You’re here with me at dinner.”
Her tongue darts out and licks the pad of my thumb and the wall holding back my restraint crumbles. With my hand still pressed against her cheek, I gently touch my lips to hers. When she sighs against my mouth and her lips part, I deepen the kiss. She tastes just as I thought. Like her sweet wine. I consider pulling her into my lap, but then I remember we’re out in public and pull back.
“Are you guys ready to order?” the waitress asks, breaking us both out of our trance. Neither of us has even looked at the menu, and right now, the last thing I want is to sit here and eat. I want Harper all to myself.
“Can you give us a second, please?” I ask the waitress.
She nods and walks away.
“I never dreamed I’d have this chance again,” I tell Harper once the waitress is gone. “And I really don’t want to spend however much time I have with you in a crowded restaurant. What do you say we get out of here?”
Harper looks up at me through her thick lashes and nods once.
Standing, I reach into my pocket and pull a couple bills out of my wallet. The waitress, seeing me stand, comes over. “We’ve decided not to stay.” I hand her the money. It’s more than enough to cover what our meal, plus a tip, would’ve been had we stayed to eat. “For your inconvenience.”
“Thank you.”
Taking Harper by her hand, I lead us out of the restaurant. “I came in a cab,” I tell her. Any time there’s a chance I might be drinking, I always take public transportation.
“I have mine,” she says, handing her ticket to the valet, who runs off to grab her car.
While we wait for him to bring her car around, we’re both quiet. I have no clue what’s going through her head. I want to ask, but I’m afraid to spook her. It’s been over twelve damn years. While I was playing baseball, she was creating a family. Being a mother. A wife. There’s no way she’s the same woman I once knew—even if she still has the same gorgeous smile, smells like strawberries and vanilla, and is clumsy as hell.