Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Daphne rolls her eyes and steps back. “What a precocious little girl you are.”
Harper swats my hand away and puffs up her chest. “I’m not little. I’m six, and only for two more months!”
Daphne smiles and bends down to boop Harper on the nose. Harper frowns with annoyance.
“Of course. Silly me. Now, tell me, does your daddy—”
Tate runs over and wrenches Daphne away from the door, shoving her back toward her room. “No more hitting on my brother.”
“It’s not my fault he’s so hot!”
Tate continues the challenging task of getting Daphne back in her room, acting like a lion tamer at the circus. Meanwhile, Harper asks me to bend down so she can press her palm flat to my forehead.
She looks utterly confused when she pulls it away. “What is she talking about? You’re not hot.”
Tate finally makes it back to us and leans down to scoop Harper up into her arms.
“Oh my gosh, you’re getting so big. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to carry you like this.”
“Really?” Harper asks excitedly. “So it’s working then. Dad says even if I don’t like what he cooks, I have to eat my dinner every night, and I do. I eat the food even when it’s really bad. Don’t tell him, but Dad is the worst cook ever.”
“Is he?”
“I can hear you,” I tease Harper.
She ignores me. “Yes. Very bad. But you know why I eat it anyway? Because I’m going to be a baseball player even though girls don’t play baseball.”
“Hey, that’s not true!” Tate tells her. “Girls can play baseball, just ask Grumpa.” Tate winks back at me. “He forced me to play Little League with all the boys.”
It’s true. There was no getting out of it in the Allen household. My grandfather was in the majors, and my dad played a few seasons too before he went on to coach at the University of Texas. Everyone played ball in our house. Tate and I each had a glove on our hand by the time we could toddle around. Had there been a league for dogs, I’m sure ol’ Sunshine would have had to run the bases too.
Private lessons, travel teams, weekend-long tournaments—it was the way of life as we knew it, and Harper thinks that’s her destiny too. No matter that most days she’d rather color than go outside and throw the ball.
“Here,” I say, holding out the bag of supplies I brought from the house. It’s everything the YouTube video said we would need to create the braid. “I can pull up the video I was watching if you want to see. They said you need to start by—”
Tate levels me with an I got this glare. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”
She’s spunky, my sister. She gets that from my mom.
To survive in our house, you had to be able to stand up for yourself. There were a lot of personalities to contend with. My mom was a small-town Texas beauty queen who went on to compete in Miss Texas and Miss USA. Tate might have been out playing with the boys in Little League, but she was always wearing a big ol’ hair bow while catching fly balls in the outfield. I wonder how she managed it, straddling two worlds like that. I had it easy compared to her.
Tate positions Harper on a stool at the kitchen counter and gets to work on her hair.
“Are you still planning to get out of the city this summer?” she asks me.
I’m busy watching her hands, amazed at how easily she braids. No fumbling on her part. Already, it’s starting to take shape just like it’s supposed to. Jesus. I used to be impressed by what a guy could bench-press, the speed achieved by his fast ball, his batting average. Times have changed, I guess.
“Once Harper’s on summer break, yeah, we’ll head to Colorado.”
“Dad says we need to bond. It’s going to be just him and me all summer. No nannies!” She shimmies her shoulders with excitement.
Tate arches her brows at me. “Oh really? No Maria?”
“She’s taking a few months off to help her daughter with her new baby.”
“I’m going to miss her. She’s so nice. You’ll still come visit me in Colorado for my birthday, though, right, Aunt Tate?”
“Of course. Are you kidding? We’ll have so much fun. Now tell me, what do you want for your present?”
Oh boy. Harper has an exhaustive list of gifts she wants for her seventh birthday, and by now, I could recite it by heart. It includes everything from a Barbie Dreamhouse to front-row concert tickets to see some singer named JoJo.
While she rattles items off for her aunt, I tug my phone out of my pocket so I can shoot an email to my property manager. Tate’s question reminded me that I need to check in with him. We’ve been corresponding back and forth about my upcoming stay at the Colorado house for the summer, ensuring everything is ready to go for Harper and me. Last month there was a small leak in one of the guest bathrooms, and Pat assured me his team would get it patched up in no time.