Lucky Break by Holley Trent

Author:Holley Trent [Trent, Holley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Sports, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary Fiction, curvy heroine, bbw, baseball, sports hero, enemies to lovers
Amazon: B01ABEJ1WW
Published: 2016-02-02T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

“I think your father is going to have a stroke by the end of the summer.” Al wiped his hands clean on the wet towelettes Edy had swiped along with his double serving of ribs, and nudged his phone closer to his thigh.

“If he does, it’ll probably be of his own making,” she said. “He’d have a lot less stress in his life if he were a better human being.”

“I dunno. Managing a baseball team—especially one with the small budget the Roosters organization has—is a bit like herding cats. Not enough staff.”

“Horny tomcats.”

Al cringed. He wasn’t going to waste his breath on arguing that.

Wallace had called while Edy had been out swinging elbows, and gave Al one of those guilt-tripping earfuls about how he needed to take care of himself and not “do anything stupid.” Al knew what “anything stupid” meant—he shouldn’t bail on the team the next season. Al was going to do what he had to do. He was spread too thin, and if his financial situation changed for the better over the next few months, he wouldn’t play baseball anymore. He wanted some stability in his life for a change, and something had to give.

Edy picked at her coleslaw for a minute and finally gave up on it. It looked a bit runny, so he couldn’t blame her.

“I could probably make better,” he said.

“Yeah?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Spend much time puttering around in the kitchen?”

“When I have to. I don’t have very many specialties, but I had to learn how to make coleslaw when I was a kid because our church did this big barbecue plate fundraiser every year. Somehow I always ended up in the kitchen.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Scratch that. Not somehow. I ended up in the kitchen because my grandma didn’t trust me to run plates with the other boys. I swear, my folks had me on lockdown.”

“Imagine that.”

He scoffed. “No imagination required. They knew better, I guess. I’ve got troublemaking in my genes, and they had to work extra hard to tamp down my willingness to commit shenanigannery.”

“That’s not a word.”

“It should be. Anything else in those containers?” He canted his head toward the open food boxes she had brought back.

“Chips. You still hungry?”

“Yeah. I feel like I should eat while I’m not nauseated. These fuckin’ pills…”

“I get ya.” She pulled out two bags—one of plain chips, one of barbecue.

“Which do you like?” he asked.

“I like barbecue, but not this kind. This kind is too sweet.”

“You like the salty, vinegary kind, huh?”

“Yep,” she said with a nod. “I tend to prefer sour over sugary.”

“Woman after my own heart.”

“Really?” She handed him the bag of plain chips, and he shook his head. She could have them.

He repositioned his busted leg to get it out of the tangle of covers and opened the bag of barbecue chips. “I’m picky about chips. I’ll eat whatever’s around when I’m craving salt, but I have certain brands I like, and I don’t mind spending a little extra money on them.

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