I don’t know what it says about my mental state that the idea of marrying Wyatt Knight not only doesn’t scare me anymore, it seems…inevitable. Fuck, do I…lovehim? But how could I not? He’s been there for me no matter how big or small the ask. No matter howstupidthe ask, and I’ve had some dumb requests.
Shit.
I love Wyatt.
Like, Ireallylove him.
The urge to drop the bat and sprint straight out of town doesn’t hit me. I don’t want to run anywhere but into his arms. Did seeing that little girl in the diner last night somehow heal me? Maybe she just reminded me who the fuck I was. That chasing storms was a way to honor my parents memory, and I have nothing to feel guilty about.
In fact, all I feel now is an overwhelming sense of peace and giddiness.
I’m grinning like a fool when Wyatt looks back at me and winks before stepping up to the plate.
Heat coils in my belly, and I nearly trip over my own two feet.
My nipples tingle as he assumes the position. His ass pops back, and dammit if I’m not staring again. It reminds me of the way I pushed my own butt against him last night, right against his bare cock. Never in my life would I have thought a man coming on my shorts would turn me on. But when he used his shirt to wipe up his seed dripping down my leg, I nearly had another orgasm. It was so fucking erotic. And…intimate.
As soon as this game is over, I’m dragging him to my bed.
A loud crack echoes as Wyatt’s bat makes contact with the ball. I watch the softball sail far out into left field. It skirts the foul line, and Wyatt makes it to second base easily. Weston Stone’s foot crosses home plate seconds before the ball slams into the catcher’s mitt.
“You should totally ask him out after the game,” Gloria pushes her sister.
“You think?”
“That man is ready to settle down. Todd Bowler heard him say as much atThe Cow’s Moothe other day.”
“Everleigh?” a faint voice calls out.
“You better snatch him up before someone else does,” Gloria pushes.
“Everleigh!” I look at Coach Porter, and he points to the plate.
“Batter up!” The ump yells, sounding impatient.
“You think he’d go for a fall wedding?” I faintly hear Sherri say.
“You planning to get knocked up?”
Possessiveness surges inside me, as though some animalistic instinct has taken over. I’ll be damned if Sherri Townsend or any other womansnatchWyatt up.
The ball sails toward me, and I channel all this pent-up emotion into my swing.
He’smine.
The ball hits the bat so hard my hands sting. I start to run, but before I even make it to first base, I hear the crowd erupt in cheers.
“Damn, that was impressive,” the first basemen says as my foot crosses the plate.
“Thanks?”
“Why are you stopping?” he asks. “Run home.”
Only now do I realize I’ve actually hit the ball out of the park. I played softball growing up, and I have no shame admitting I was good. But I’veneverhit a homerun.
Until now.
“Go on,” he says.
