He barely had time to snort before she went into her windup. He braced himself, ready this time. At the last second, there was a subtle hitch, a flick of Olive’s wrist as the ball left her hand. His mind balked.
“Was that a curveball?”
“Didn’t we say you needed luck?” she taunted. “Strike two!”
He retrieved the ball, then raised his bat with grim determination. He didn’t mind one strike, even two, but striking out? Hell no.
Olive leaned into the wind-up, then hurled the ball toward him. He swung with all his might, delighted by the crack of wood as his bat connected. The ball soared over Olive’s head, past Robbie’s, and to the edge of the park.
“Ha!” he shouted as he dropped the bat. “Home run, here I come!”
Olive and Robbie shrieked as they flew after the ball. Emil dashed around the park in a rough diamond shape where he imagined the bases would be. He rounded second and glanced over his shoulder to determine his chances for third. Olive was a gazelle, loping across the earth as if born of it, her laughter floating on the wind. He swiveled mid-step, unable to look away?—
And yelped as he collided with something solid. Something hard and prickly and painful. He collapsed to his knees and clutched his smarting shoulder.
“Emil!” Olive was at his side a moment later. “Are you all right?”
“No.” He glared up at the tree branch that had taken him out. “I was attacked.”
Robbie crouched in the dirt on his other side, his breath ragged. “Does it hurt?”
“Both my shoulder and my pride hurt. You could have told me nature played on your side.”
Olive snorted. “I didn’t realize I needed to warn you about trees. Outside. In a park.”
“I demand compensation,” he complained. “A formal apology from Mother Nature herself. A snack at the very least."
“Cracker Jack,” Robbie said eagerly. “Mother Nature owes you Cracker Jack!”
He pretended to think, then nodded. “A worthy apology.” He fished in his pocket and withdrew some coins. “Take this and run to the corner store, would you, kid?” Robbie leapt to his feet and pocketed the change without hesitation. “Enough for all of us, you hear? And maybe a Dr. Pepper if you promise to return the bottle after.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied, then sprinted across the park.
“Robbie would run a mile for Cracker Jack,” Olive said. “You just made a friend for life.”
“He’s a good kid.” He shifted onto his behind, grimacing a little at the tug of pain.
“You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.”
“No thanks necessary. I wanted to.” He gave her a tight smile. “Besides, I needed him gone so you could examine my shoulder. I think the branch sliced right through my coat.”
“Oh!”
She knelt beside him and examined his shoulder. He had to breathe through his nose so as not to inhale the light violet aroma wafting from the tendrils of honey hair that escaped her knit hat.
“There’s a tear on the left shoulder blade. And a bit of blood.”
“Blood?” He shuddered. “I hate blood.”
She chuckled, her breath tickling his ear. “Only the tiniest bit, you big crybaby. But I can’t…” She hummed under her breath, tugging gently on his collar, then shook her head. “I can’t see.”
He unwound his scarf and dropped it in his lap, then shrugged one arm out of his coat and unbuttoned his collar to peel back his shirt. “How about now?”
“Um. I—” She gulped. “Yes, I can—I can see better.”
Then she was prodding his skin. He bit back a curse—he should have known her touch would be featherlight. Achingly gentle. Innocently enticing. It made him wonder how it would feel on other parts of him.
“Distract me,” he pleaded.
