Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
How many times a week am I going to see this man? And will I be just as flappable with every interaction?
He motions for the kids to circle around him, and they do it happily. Ethan stands near the back of the group with another kid’s hand dangling over his shoulder. His cheeks are red from the cold as he watches Cole with rapt attention.
He’s how I’m going to endure it.
Ethan deserves it.
My heart swells as I watch my son nod at something Cole says. I smile when Ethan’s head falls back and he laughs right along with the team. I sink into my seat and give a whisper of thanks when he looks my way and beams, joy rolling off him in waves.
I’ll do anything for that kid, even if it means avoiding a rendezvous with Cole Beck.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
COLE
Dinner was great, Mom.” I put the last plate back in the cabinet and toss the towel on the counter. “You’re spoiling me.”
“Some things never change,” Dad jokes as he takes his cup of coffee into the living room.
Mom dries her hands on the edge of her apron. “I’m probably going to pull back from it just a little bit since I know I have you for another month. I need to pace myself.”
I laugh.
“When are you having practice again? I’d love to come watch you in action. Mary Beth Goheen said you were a natural,” Mom says.
“Why was she there? I know she doesn’t have a little kid.”
“Well . . . she might have been walking by and saw you out there.”
The twinkle in her eye tells me enough. I don’t want to know if my mom’s sixty-year-old friend has the hots for me.
It’s happened before. It changes the dynamic when I see them at the post office.
“I’m giving them tomorrow off. Don’t want to burn them out right away,” I say. “It’s supposed to be warmer the day after anyway.”
“This weather is crazy. Warm one day and cold the next. That’s Ohio for you.”
“That’s one thing I won’t miss.”
Her smile falters. “Yes, well, let’s not talk about that. I don’t want to think about you not being here.”
I give her a smile that’s supposed to make her feel better but I think only makes her feel worse. So I do the only other thing I can and pull her into a tight hug.
She pats my back and then presses her palms into my back like she did when I was a little kid. Despite her five-foot-one-inch height and her feather-like weight, her embrace calms the center of my body, which has been buzzing all day.
I don’t let go because she doesn’t.
“I heard through the grapevine that you had a pretty animated conversation with Palmer Clark today,” she says, finally pulling away.
At the sound of Palmer’s name, the fog in my head clears.
“A grapevine named Mary Beth Goheen?” I ask.
Mom laughs.
“What did she say?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says too breezily.
I lower my chin and give her a look.
She waves a hand through the air and turns toward the sink. “Oh, she didn’t say much. Just that you two looked pretty comfy with one another.”
“I told you that I knew Palmer.”
She hums, the tune painting a picture that she has her mind made up about whatever Mary Beth said.
“Her son plays on my team—which you already knew,” I say. “So don’t start humming at me.”
She spins on her heel. The apples of her cheeks are pink and bunched up just beneath her eyes as she smiles.
“Don’t . . .” I shake a finger at her. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what, Cole?”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Oh. I thought you meant not to presume that you had a thing for Miss Palmer. Because Mary Beth sure thought Palmer had a thing for you.”
I wish. Especially now that I’ll be in town for more than a few days.
I could have weeks with the presence of pretty Palmer Clark.
If she’d only say yes to me.
It requires a mental war with myself not to replay Palmer’s innuendos. They’re right there on the tip of my brain, but I will myself to keep them just out of reach. I don’t want a chub in front of my mother.
“You can rest assured that if Palmer had a thing for me, I’d tell you,” I say. “I’ve asked her to dinner more than once, and she’s turned me down every time.”
Mom’s jaw drops.
“I know. I’m shocked too.”
She rolls her eyes. “I think you’re perfect, but that doesn’t mean every woman will.”
“Right. Because there’s one holdout, and her name is Palmer Clark.”
This should, by all accounts, discourage my mother. But it does not. Instead, her eyes light up as if I’ve just set a gift in her lap and told her to open it.
“Did you . . . you know, hear what I just said?” I ask. “Or do you need hearing aids?”