Hooked on You, Kathleen Fuller [book club suggestions TXT] 📗

towel hanging by one of the sinks. She would probably suggest one of her Bosom Buddies, orBBs, as he’d heard them called. None of them except Erma and Myrtle were on the team, and Myrtle was still on her cruise andwouldn’t be back for a while. The BBs were excellent cheerleaders. They’d come to several practices and, of course, the firstgame. They always brought snacks, too, which was a bonus.

He couldn’t imagine who she had in mind. None of the women, except maybe Madge Wilson, looked like they were in good enoughshape to play softball, even in a church league. “Who are you considering?”

“My granddaughter.”

Hayden froze, then picked up the phone and took it off speaker. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I am. Is there a reason why Riley can’t take my place?”

Other than her not wanting to be around me? “Uh, not off the top of my head, no. Have you run this idea past her?”

Another pause. “I’m sure she’ll want to take the position.”

Hayden paused. For the first time he heard a note of uncertainty in Erma’s voice. “You are?”

“Yes, I am sure, and I have to go. Have a nice day.”

“Erma—” She had already hung up.

He set the phone back on the vanity and blew out a breath. He wasn’t going to tell Erma no. He said he would do her a favorand he meant it. But he doubted Riley would be interested in the coaching position, and from the way her grandmother hungup on him, he was almost positive Riley had no idea she was being volunteered. He frowned. So much for keeping my distance.

Swiping his hand over the foggy mirror, he relaxed, the lines creasing his forehead disappearing in his reflection. DespiteErma’s insistence, there was no way Riley was going to agree to be his assistant.

His frown suddenly returned. Too bad.

Chapter 5

Late Saturday afternoon Hayden unlocked the gate to the one and only ball field in Maple Falls. Like most of the town, thefield was old and needed some TLC. When he decided to start the church softball team, he spent two entire weekends cleaningup the grounds and creating the infield, killing grass and weeds that had grown over it and building up the pitcher’s mound.Fortunately his friend Tanner Castillo helped out when he wasn’t working at the Sunshine Diner. Otherwise it would have takenHayden much longer than two weekends to finish. The end result didn’t look great, but it was definitely an improvement andwould serve its purpose.

He walked over to one of the dugouts and leaned his huge canvas bag of bats and softballs against the skinny wooden bench,dropping the other bag on the ground. His glove was lying inside the bag on top of the bats, and he picked it up, slippinghis hand inside as he’d done thousands of times before. The worn leather fit him like a second skin, which it practicallyhad been for the seven years he’d used it.

As always before practice, he walked to the mound. Common sense told him he shouldn’t since there was no reason for him tobe there, but he couldn’t help himself. The moment the sole of his athletic shoe touched the hard-packed dirt, he was transportedto the past, his mind and senses filled with the sights, sounds, and smells of a baseball field during a game. The murmuringof the crowd, the fans wearing their favorite player’s jersey, the scents of popcorn and beer hanging in the air. He rememberedthe feel of the mound beneath his feet, the excitement of staring down a batter and striking him out.

His jaw clenched and he stepped off the mound. There would be no more strikeouts, not from his arm. Now he was forced to experiencethe game that had meant so much to him a different way—as a spectator, or in this case, a green coach of an even greener softballteam. As he stared at the spot where home plate should be, he yearned to pitch again. Sure, he could still throw a few ballsoverhand, but he’d never reach 70 mph, much less the 100-plus mph fastball he’d pitched in his prime. The memory brought himback to earth.

Hayden jogged back to the dugout and dropped his mitt on the bench, then dragged the other bag to the field, unzipped it,and started placing the bases around the diamond. He’d just finished straightening home plate when he heard a car pull intothe gravel parking lot. When he looked over, he saw two cars right behind it—including Erma’s.

Surprised, his nerves started to jump. For once the store had been busy yesterday, and he hadn’t had time to think about Erma’sphone call—until he closed up for the night. The more he’d thought about it then, the surer he was that Riley would tell hergrandmother no. But if that was the case, why was she here now? Had Erma actually convinced her to be his assistant? She musthave used all her sweet-talking charm to make it happen.

Erma’s car stopped a few spaces away from Harper Wilson’s red Mercedes. When Harper got out of her car, he wasn’t surprisedto see her meticulously dressed for a simple softball practice, and knowing her, every item of clothing had a designer label.The first time she showed up at the field, Hayden had been skeptical, especially seeing her perfect manicure, makeup, andbrand-new expensive cleats. As it turned out, Harper had played softball when she was younger and was fairly good, not tomention extremely competitive. He chalked that up to her owning her own real estate business. She was his utility infieldplayer, subbing when needed, and was also a backup pitcher.

Olivia Farnsworth, Bea’s grandniece, got out of the passenger side of Harper’s car. As a librarian, she couldn’t be any moredifferent from Harper, both in looks and temperament. Olivia was petite and shy with black hair and olive skin due to herHispanic heritage, the opposite of blond-haired, blue-eyed Harper. Olivia possessed a distinct lack of athletic ability butnevertheless put in 100 percent effort, which he appreciated.

The rest of the