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“Hey, Reid,” she calls.
He looks over his shoulder, grinning, his arms overflowing with bags. "Yeah, love?"
She winks at me, and together we say, “Told you so.”
Epilogue
The last game of the fall Little League season is tied. There are two on base with two outs in the bottom of the final inning, and Ben steps up to bat.I squint, trying to decipher Reid’s look from first base, but he’s a brick wall of alpha. Even his bond is a flat lake of calm. My lip is in shreds as the pitcher for the other team winds his arm back and releases the ball.
“Strike,” the umpire roars, drawing out the sound.
My breath rushes out of me, and Finn’s sister Payton grabs my hand. “He’s got this one,” she assures me.
Impatience thrums from Finn’s bond, but I don’t look away to see if they’ve made it here from Emmaline’s ju-jitsu class. My eyes are focused on my son.
The tall boy standing at the plate hardly looks like Ben. He’s grown into his alpha in the last two years, which shows in his stance. His toe dips into the clay, and he braces himself, setting up his swing.
This time, Ben makes contact, but it’s a foul ball.
My leg bounces as Ben steps back from the plate and has some kind of signaled conversation with his dad. Ben smiles and then takes his stance, confidence radiating out of him.
On the next pitch, Ben’s bat smashes the ball, and I lose sight of it in the sun's glare. Ben breezes around first base before I realize it’s landed at the edge of the fence. It’s cheering mayhem as the outfielder races for the ball, and the boys on our team try to make it home. Ben slides into home nanoseconds before the catcher tags the plate.
Finn’s loud hoot draws my eye, and I see him and Emmaline jumping from the far end of the field near the parking lot. I join our cheering stands, hugging Payton and half the group of parents from our team while the boys line up for end-of-game handshakes.
Reid shakes the other coach’s hand and finds my eye in the stands. I’ll never get over how handsome this man is. He’s sexy as hell in his team shirt and ballcap, his trim beard dark, and his skin golden from all his time outside.
He can feel my perusal in the bond as I purposefully send him a wave of my lust. But seriously, Coach Reid is hot as fuck, fulfilling every one of my jock fantasies. High school me would be very impressed right now. The smirk on his face tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I blow him a kiss and nod toward the patch of trees to the side where I’ll be working the after-game snack booth.
“Later,” he calls, returning to the team for the presentation of the trophies.
We cheer for them again as the boys pose for pictures and celebrate on the field, their hoots and shared laughter filling the air.
I climb down the bleachers as gracefully as possible at seven months pregnant, half the people around me clucking and offering hands. Finn races up the bottom step, Emmaline hopping behind him, and scoops me up on a whooshed huff.
“Ben won! Ben won!” Emmaline cheers.
I high-five her as Finn carries me down. “I can walk, Finn,” I say, trying to be stern but only managing to sound amused. He scent marks my hair, taking a deep breath.
“You smell so freaking good right now. I can’t get enough,” Finn purrs, kissing my head and setting me down on the grass. He’s dressed in his matching gi with Emmaline, and the sight of them makes a burst of fondness flare in my chest.
Damn. I’m lucky.
He leans in and kisses me with a soft brush of lips, murmuring in my ear, “I felt that.” His hand skirts over my baby bump, and he groans as a burst of possessiveness hits me through the bond.
I let out a happy laugh for no reason other than feeling good to be desired this way. Finn loves my body and is obsessed with all the changes that have come with this pregnancy.
I reach for Emmaline’s hand while she fills me in on their morning lesson. Finn’s warm palm never leaves my waist, guiding me toward the span of trees behind the bleachers where we set up folding tables lined with coolers earlier.
“I was getting nervous. I thought you wouldn’t make it,” I tell them.
Finn caresses my hip. “It was close, but we saw his last at-bat.”
Finn and I fall in beside Lizzy, one of the other parent volunteers and the mom of Ben’s friend Brody, who helps to prepare the snacks and drinks for serving. A team full of twelve-year-olds after a game is basically locus.
The kids come through the line in a wild chatter. Ben is smashed in the middle between Brody, the Sheriff’s son, and our nephew Josh. The two boys have become best friends with Ben. Finn is convinced that they’ll be a pack one day.
