Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Yeah, but he’s sort of stuck with me.”
She shook her head. “If Griffin doesn’t want to do something, he doesn’t do it. Trust me. He’s got a thing for you.”
My tongue felt all tied up after that, but her observation made me undeniably happy.
As the game got started, I started to feel like maybe Cheyenne was right—maybe the dress had brought me good luck. After all, it was purely by chance that I’d wound up stranded in this town and not another. If I had ended up somewhere else, I probably would have turned around and gone home already. Made a date with the crusty old tycoon. Hung up my oven mitts for good.
Maybe there was such a thing as fate.
Eleven
Griffin
After the game, which we won—thanks to a double from me and a homer from Beckett that allowed both of us to score—a bunch of us went over to the Bulldog for some food and drinks. In addition to Blair, Cheyenne, and me, it was Cole, Moretti, Beckett, McIntyre, and Emily.
We pushed two tables together and sat on the patio, which prompted a boisterous retelling of Blair’s now-infamous crash-and-faint episode for anyone who missed it, including the way I’d caught her.
“Oh man, I’ve never seen Griffin move that fast in my life,” Moretti joked. “Why don’t you run the bases like that? We might score a few more runs.”
“Fuck off,” I said, throwing a wadded-up napkin at him. “We won, didn’t we?”
“That we did.” Moretti held up his beer, and everyone followed suit. “To winning!”
“To defending the championship title!” added Cole.
“To the bride and groom!” shouted my sister, causing half the table to burst out laughing.
I gave Cheyenne the stink-eye as I tipped up my beer.
We put in orders for wings and pizza, ordered another round of drinks, and rehashed the team’s 5-4 win. “Cole, how’s your arm?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. “You pitched a fucking great game.”
“Thanks.” Across the table from me, he rubbed his shoulder. “It’s not too bad.”
Next to him, my sister put her hand on his bicep. “Want some ice or anything? I can ask for some.”
I almost snorted. I knew what my sister wanted to do to Cole, and it wasn’t ice his shoulder. She’d been drooling over him since we were kids, and if I wasn’t such a fucking nice guy, I’d have been making fun of her for it for years.
“No, thanks,” Cole said. “I’m okay.”
We sat around, drinking and eating and talking, telling old stories about our youth for Blair’s sake, bragging about home runs hit or no-hitters pitched during our glory days, pumping our fists and patting ourselves on the back for still being in such good shape. There was the usual amount of trash-talking about the Mavs and how severely we were going to beat them at the championship game.
Next to me, Blair laughed often and asked a bunch of questions—about baseball, our high school days, the town, our families. Sometimes she put her hand on my leg, and I liked it. At one point, I realized I had my arm around the back of her chair, and she was sort of leaning into me. Cheyenne noticed for sure, and I could just imagine her reporting back to our mother, so I quickly removed it.
“So Blair,” Emily said from her place next to my sister. “How long are you in town?”
“Well, I can’t go anywhere until Griffin gets the parts for my car, but I’ll probably stay through Labor Day. I’m helping Griffin with an anniversary event at the garage.”
“I heard about that. Sounds like a great idea. And you’re staying . . .” Emily prompted, likely knowing full well where she was staying.
“Right now I’m staying with Griffin, but that’s temporary.”
“My mother offered to host her,” said Cheyenne with a giggle. “Just as soon as she cleans out the spare bedroom, which should only take her about—ohhh, six weeks at the most. She’s determined to keep them in the same place as long as possible. I think she’s hoping for a grandchild out of this somehow.”
“Not going to happen,” I said firmly, pulling my wallet from my back pocket. “You ready to go, Blair? I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”
“Me too,” she said, rising to her feet. “I want to make scones again, and some lemon lavender shortbread as well.”
“Mmmm, that sounds delicious,” Cheyenne said. “I’ll have to bring Mom again so I can sneak a taste.”
“Don’t you dare,” I ordered my sister, tossing enough cash on the table to cover Blair and me. “You took forever to come back and get her today, and she drove me nuts.”
“Actually, she was really helpful at the desk,” said Blair. “Please thank her again for me, Cheyenne. And thank you for picking me up tonight.”
“Anytime,” my sister said with a smile. “I never miss old man baseball. It’s the highlight of my week.”