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)
“You in mom-mode is hella hot,” I tell her.
“Mom-mode?” She laughs.
“Yeah, you get all growly and possessed looking. Totally hot.”
“Well, if you think that’s hot, you should come over this weekend when I’m yelling at them to clean their rooms for the millionth time.” She waggles her eyebrows playfully.
“Found her,” Hunter says.
We glance over at them, and Ella is looking at us weird. “Are you my mom’s boyfriend?” she asks with a silly grin on her face.
I look down and realize I’m still holding Harper close. Immediately, I push her away, causing her to stumble back. She tries to grab the bar to the jungle gym enclosure, but doesn’t grab it in time, instead falling backward. There’s a screech, and then a second later, her shoe-clad feet are in the air.
“Mom!” Ella yells as the three of us run over to make sure she’s okay.
When we look down, we find Harper lying on her back in a huge plastic ball pit. The kids crack up laughing as Harper lobs several colored balls at us.
“Hey!” Hunter yells, grabbing one and throwing it back at her.
It smacks her right in the face, and Harper scowls playfully. “This is war!” she yells. The kids both turn to run, but before they can get away, I grab them by their shirts and toss each of them into the pit.
They scream and screech and laugh as Harper attacks them with the balls.
“Get in here, Landon!” Harper demands. “It’s only fair since you pushed me in.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I jump into the pit and start covering her with the colored balls, until the only part of her you can see is her button nose.
“Do me!” Ella squeals. “Do me!”
Wading through the plastic balls, I get over to Ella and cover her the same way I did her mother.
We spend the next several minutes playing in the balls—never thought I’d say that—until Hunter gets bored and asks me to do the pitching game with him. Then we all get out.
“All right, you’re going against me,” Hunter says, sticking some coins in the machine.
“You realize I’m going to beat you, right?” I taunt.
Hunter laughs. “Maybe… but your arm was looking kind of rough toward the end of your career there, so I might have a chance.”
“Want to bet on it?” I ask, to make it more fun and competitive.
Hunter crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay.” He nods slowly. “What do you want if you win?”
I think for a moment. “My truck can use a good cleaning. If I win, you have to wash and wax my truck.”
“He should be doing that anyway to earn that money you gave him,” Harper says, butting in.
“Hush, woman,” I joke. “This is a man’s bet.”
She snorts in laughter. “Oh, okay… go on with your man-self.”
“All right,” Hunter agrees. “If I win, though…” He smiles mischievously, reminding me so much of his mother. “We go to a baseball game to see the Reds play.”
“Hunter!” Harper jumps in.
“Deal,” I say before she can say any more.
“Landon!” she scolds.
“Harper!” I scold back playfully.
The kids all laugh.
“Okay, let’s do this.” I quickly read the directions as Hunter sets up the game. In a nutshell, it’s not just about speed, it’s also about accuracy, and how many times you can do it in two minutes.
The game counts down and when it gets to one, the balls drop down. Hunter and I both grab a ball and throw. Mine goes in at seventy miles per hour and so does Hunter’s. Holy shit! I wasn’t giving it my all. I mean, it’s a game and we’re indoors, but I’m shocked as shit that he can throw that fast and accurate. I’ve seen him pitch a few times at camp, so I knew he was good, but we’ve been focusing on batting and catching mostly. I wonder if anybody knows what he’s capable of.
We both grab another ball and they both go in. This time Hunter’s ball gets clocked at seventy-five miles per hour. I’m trying to keep up, but I’m too busy watching him throw. I throw a few more balls, getting them all in, and then the timer dings, indicating our time is up.
“I won!” Hunter shouts. “Did you let me win?” Realistically, if I were paying better attention to what I was doing instead of what he was doing, I probably would’ve beat him, but that’s what I get for not having my eyes on my own balls.
“Nope,” I admit. “You won fair and square. I had no idea you could throw like that.” The stats show his fastest pitch was seventy-six miles per hour. That’s insane for a twelve-year-old. “Did you know your son could throw like that?” I ask Harper, who nods.
“Yeah, he’s the pitcher on his team.” She shrugs, clearly not understanding just how good her son is.