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“I think you’re phenomenal in every way,” I tell her as I drag my eyes up her shapely legs. “I can’t wait to see your other moves. The non-gymnastics ones.”
“You’re doing well so far, Mr. Hughes,” she says with a grin. “Keep it up and you will.”
“Excuse me,” a woman says, popping out of nowhere. I’m so focused on Kylee that I didn’t notice her approaching and she startles me. Kylee laughs when I jump to the side.
“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but that was incredible. Do you give lessons? My eight-year-old is obsessed with gymnastics, but there aren’t any classes in town. We’re doing classes over Zoom, but it’s not the same. The closest studio is over an hour and a half away.”
“No, sorry,” Kylee says with a tilt of her head. “I don’t live here. I’m just visiting.”
“But she’s thinking of moving here,” I say, butting in. “You should give her your phone number, just in case.”
“Oh, perfect!” the woman says as she grabs a pen and paper from her purse. “It’s for my Shannon. She’s the one in the blue shirt on the swings.”
Cute kid. I’m rooting for her to have Kylee as her gymnastics teacher.
“I’ll pay for personal lessons or for in a group,” the mom says. “Whatever works best for you.”
“Oh,” Kylee says as she reluctantly takes the phone number. “But again, I don’t live here.”
“Yet,” I add firmly.
She gives me a look. I smile back at her.
“Well, give me a call if you do,” the mother says before leaving. “I’d love to hire you.”
Kylee takes her shoes back from me and puts them on. My eyes are locked on her perky little breasts as she slides her feet in.
“What was that?” she asks playfully as we start walking down the sidewalk again. “You’re going to get that lady’s hopes up.”
“Then that makes two of us,” I say as I take her hand. “My hopes are already way up.”
She shakes her head but she’s smiling as we head toward the restaurant. I’m taking her to McArthur's for some burgers and fries like I promised.
“Aiden!” a deep voice calls out as a firetruck pulls up beside us.
I look up and the fire chief Graham West is looking at me through the window. “Hey, Graham.”
I already know what this is about.
“How’s that arm feeling?” he asks with a grin.
I knew it.
Every summer, the fire department plays the Sheriff’s department in an annual softball game. It’s supposed to be friendly, but it gets wildly competitive.
The fire department only has four members, so they’re always looking to recruit some good players. Last year, I played for them and hit four home runs, so I knew they’d be back for more.
“I think I’m busy that weekend,” I say just to rile him up.
“Why?” he says with his voice rising. “Did the Sheriff get to you first? That fucker. Are you playing for them?”
I just shrug my shoulders.
“Come on, man,” he says, starting to beg. “You’re more of a firefighter than a cop!”
“How do you figure that?”
“I don’t know,” he says, looking desperate. “But you have to play for us! You’re a power hitter.”
