Page 7 of The Cannon
“The Mavericks rented the entire place. It’s just the team and their families. They do it every year at the start of the season.”
“I don’t remember you coming to this before.”
“I didn’t. I’m only doing it now because Atticus asked me to. They needed a ringer. The ball player they used last year got traded.”
She seems to accept my excuse. Truth be told, I’m kind of interested in maybe hooking her up with the new pitcher. I want to see if my final impression of him is the right one. He’s not for me, but he could be perfect for Kara. Something tells me they’d hit it off.
It’s been a few weeks since Sawyer and I met, and I’m still mad at myself for saying such a stupid comment about someone I didn’t know. Mommy and daddy’s golden boy. It stings me to think it might have hurt him. Even though he shook it off, it would be impossible to forget you were nobody’s golden child.
His beautiful hazel eyes softened when I apologized. He’s empathetic. Fixing him up with my fun-loving friend will be my way of making up for the gaffe.
“I’ve got someone I want you to meet. One of the new pitchers on the team.”
Kara and I speak the language of best friends. She knows I’m not apt to play matchmaker so this guy must be special.
“And.”
“I met him at an event a few weeks ago. He’s sexy. Light-brown hair, tall, good lips.”
Her low purr approves my description.
“Full disclosure, he was hitting on me. But you know how that went.”
We laugh because she does know.
“Poor guy. Hope you let him down gently.”
“Besides being a ballplayer, he’s young.”
“I like em young.”
“Handsome.”
“Never hurts.”
As we walk through the doors, the sound decibel rises dramatically. Balls hitting pins, conversations and laughter. Children are everywhere. And over it all, country music plays.
“He’s a Texan with a sexy drawl,” I say a bit louder.
“You sure you’re not interested?”
“Positive.”
“Bristol!”
I turn in the direction of Brick’s voice to see him waving us over. Grandma Birdie and Grandpa have taken their posts center stage as Swift team cheerleaders. My parents are practicing their stance, while January and Charlotte sit talking with Atticus.
“There’s your team,” I say pointing to the raucous group in the next lane.
I see Sawyer showing a young boy how to hold a ball. There’s a patience about his instructions. The child looks happy to be with the newest Maverick.
“Grandpa Davis!” Kara says throwing her arms around his back. She lays a kiss on his head.
“Hello, pretty bird!”
As a lifelong bird watcher, Grandpa’s compliments often connect to his flying friends.
“Nice! Is that a new one?” I say fluttering the edge of his bright blue bow tie.
