Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 104327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“Times,” Mikey said under a cough. He knew Tiller was teasing him, and I was fairly sure this would earn Tiller a few well-placed comments about his football “field match” or his impressive “tackle free throw percentage.” The two of them had invited me over for dinner one night a few weeks ago, and I’d laughed so hard I’d almost pissed myself listening to their sports banter.
But now I was back to feeling like an outsider. It wasn’t easy balancing being the new sheriff with making friends, especially when I had to work so hard to maintain the highest professional standards after the last idiot who’d held the position.
“That’s my son,” an older man said to me from where he stood next to me at the small bar stand.
I knew Mikey and his father didn’t get along, but I’d heard great things about Tiller’s family. I assumed this was his father, who’d come in from Denver for the party. I smiled. “Does he get his football talent from you?”
The man barked out a laugh loud enough to draw attention from a few people around us. “Mikey? Play football? I wish. He would have been an incredible kicker if only he’d let me convince him to train for it. He was a star on the soccer field until he gave it up in middle school.”
He gazed wistfully at the men on the stage as I mentally scrambled to adjust my thinking. This was Mikey’s father. The football coach.
“You must be Coach Vining, then,” I said, holding out my hand. “Declan Stone. Nice to meet you.”
He nodded and shook my hand. “Likewise. He doesn’t know we’re here yet. Tiller invited us.” He spoke gruffly, turning back to look at the men as Tiller continued to wax romantic about Mikey on stage. “Damned proud of him, though. He’s, ah… always been a good cook.”
A woman stepped up and reached for one of the two drinks in the coach’s hands. “Did we miss the proposal?”
Mikey’s dad shook his head. “Don’t think so. He’s working up to it. The man is cool as a cucumber in triple coverage against the meanest safety in the league, but seems to be sweating buckets up there trying to get up his nerve to pop a single question to my baby boy.”
The woman, who I assumed was Mikey’s mom, smacked him gently on the arm. “That means he cares more about your baby boy than he does about football. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Mpfh.” The man grunted into his drink, but I could see he hadn’t taken his eyes off what was happening on the stage.
I introduced myself to Mikey’s mother and turned back to the stage in time to tune into the good part.
“Michael Vining, will you cover my home base and swing at all my pitches? Will you be the hooker in my scrum and ace all my wild serves? Will you promise to tackle every… ooof.”
“What the hell is he talking about?” Coach Vining grumbled.
Mikey elbowed Tiller. “Skip to the good part.”
Tiller’s eyes sparkled as he pulled a ring box from his pocket. “Will you make me the happiest man on earth and agree to marry me?”
Mikey’s tears caught the light, but even I could see from this distance that they were happy tears. His mom sniffled next to me, and I turned around to seek out a few paper napkins from the bartender before handing them to her.
“Thank you, dear. They’re just so perfect together. Aren’t they, honey?”
Mikey’s dad’s voice was rough when he answered. “Tiller Raine is a good man. And so is Mikey.”
It seemed like those were words he wasn’t used to saying out loud. I leaned over to advise him in a low voice even though it was truly none of my business. “You should go tell them that, sir. Congratulations.”
He nodded awkwardly and led his wife away to approach the happy couple.
Mikey’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw them. After a few more awkward moments of his dad’s attempts to congratulate them, Mikey threw himself at his dad and hugged him tightly. After a brief pause, Coach Vining hugged him back just as tightly.
I let out a breath and turned around, just to catch sight of Truman Sweet sobbing behind a giant potted plant.
“Shit,” I muttered, reaching for more napkins. I hurried over to him and offered him the stack. “You okay?”
He looked up at me from under his mop of curly hair. His eyes were wide behind his dark-framed glasses. “Ignore me. I’m a sucker for a grand gesture.”
I looked around to see if I could find Sam, but he was over by the newly engaged pair. The tall blond man stood silently by Mikey and watched Mikey’s parents like a hawk.
“Do you want me to get Sam for you?” I asked.