Page 127 of The Leaves In Autumn
“It gives things a kind of permanence.”
“It spoke to me the first time I saw it. Like I had been here before.”
She turns my way, and we lock eyes. This is our spot on Earth, but I will love her into eternity.
The End.
Love to read Family Series ? Start The Swift Family Series here: The Curve
An excerpt of The Curve
Chapter 1
Atticus
She doesn’t know I’m watching. Like a wolf casing a hen house, my goal is to stay undetected. Hiding behind this column gives me the advantage. Plus, I’m able to avoid Brick while I’m checking out the new face in the clubhouse. I can ignore the piercing sound of worked-up kids in the room because it’s the woman standing under the Tennessee Mavericks banner who’s pulled my attention. Noted and approved. She’s ripe for the taking.
Besides that, it’s impossible to miss the impressive curves hiding under jeans and a team shirt, or the long chestnut-colored hair that frames high cheekbones. Hard to beat those assets. Then she turns to pick up something she’s dropped. BONUS POINTS!Nice ass.
I learned early to master the art of the slick observation. Watching my older brother and cousins and how they acted around the opposite sex was my education. Sometimes it’s good to be the baby of the family, even at thirty. Whether my gaze is cloaked by dark glasses or team cap down—eyes up, there’s always a way to sneak a peek. It’s my superpower. There’s a kind of radar in me that locks on the most interesting girl in the room. And by interesting, I mean sexy.
It began before I even knew exactly what it was I was looking for. There was only a sense girls had something I wanted. It was a banner day when Brick told me what that something was, brother to brother. Now I had more than baseball to dream about.
This woman’s a natural beauty, three-quarters girl-next-door, one-quarter something I haven’t defined.Yet. But I think it’s wild. Maybe there’s a little gypsy in her. Whatever it is, though, I like it. Nothing’s forced. And most unusual of all, she’s not doing a thing to get the attention of the horny young baseball players in the room. No flipping of hair or batting of unnaturally long false eyelashes. No taking selfies with pouting lips. That alone makes her stand out.
Professional athletes rarely need to work for a woman’s attention, and it messes with our heads. Not that I’m complaining. But when a guy gets used to that dynamic, it can make him lazy. It’s so damn easy to be the guy, win the girl, get laid. It happens without effort, which leads to a kinda dulling of the senses. I’d be kicked out of the testosterone club if anyone heard me admit my take on things. But we all know it’s true.
Even with my left arm in a sling, I’ve managed to remain undetected. I’ve moved from behind the column just a little, so she can see I’m watching, trying to give her a preview of what I have to offer.Work with me, baby. But there hasn’t been one glance my way or toward anyone else that I’ve seen. Her attention is locked on a young girl standing at the back of the crowd of rowdy kids, and she’s gesturing to her to move forward.
The girl stands her ground, holding a ball for an autograph, politely waiting her turn. Once in a while, the boy in front of her turns and stares for a moment, which makes her look back to the woman. She doesn’t realize these entitled little shits aren’t going to consider the pecking order. The sponsors’ spawn are always the biggest brats. They’re like calves pushing their way to pasture, the kids crowd toward the signing table where my teammates sit. I think I hear a moo.
About three more years, I’d say, and things will change for the girl. She’s a little chubby, but that’ll disappear as she grows taller. Underneath her shyness and extra pounds of baby fat, she’s pretty, like the woman. Around sixteen, the boys will be fighting for her attention, and all the bullies will quiet.
My own history has shaped me. I can still remember what it felt like to be overweight as a child and how much the bullying stung. Kids can be such raging assholes.
As if she can sense my stare, the girl’s head lifts and turns toward me. Oh God. Poor kid. The far left side of her face is burned and thickly scarred from chin to forehead, where it disappears under her bangs. Our eyes lock for a moment before she looks away. Shit. I hope she didn’t read anything into my expression.Crap.
When I turn back to the woman, she’s looking at me intently, weighing my reaction. The corners of my mouth lift in acknowledgment of her stare, and my head nods. No warmth is returned. Instead, she resumes her watch.Is she the girl’s mother?She looks young.
Quickly I do the math. If the kid’s about thirteen, the mother could be early thirties. Yeah, I guess it could work. I mean, if I’d had a kid when I started having sex, I could have a thirteen-year-old easily. That’s a sobering thought, I’m barely thirty and still sowing my wild oats as my grandmother likes to say.
“Atticus.” Brick’s hand lands on my good shoulder, and I hear the impatience in his voice. “What’re you doing? They want to meet their favorite catcher. Come on.”
“Don’t have a hissy fit,” I say, imitating my mother’s voice and ignoring my brother’s directive. “I’m busy. Quit being my agent for a minute and look at that chick with the hair and the fine ass.” I lift my chin in her direction.
He takes a beat to check out my interest. A smile spreads across his face and a look that says he knows something I don’t.
“What?”
“That’s Charlotte.” Stepping in front of me, he blocks my view. “I invited her and her daughter. She’s nice. Don’t even think about it.”
“I’m just looking. She your date?” I say glancing over his shoulder.
“No. She’s my hairdresser. And my tailor. And I don’t want to lose either one.” He puts a hand on my good arm. “I mean it, Atticus. It took me a long time to find someone who knows how to tailor pants right. Don’t fuck it up for me. Come talk with the kids. You don’t have to sign.”
I consider my options and come to the obvious choice. “Introduce us. Then I’ll do whatever you want.”
A long sigh escapes his lips. “Just keep it in your pants. She’s nice. The woman has enough trouble without you hitting on her.”
