Page 118 of Strike Zone

“I’m not calling her on the damn walkie.”

“You lost yours didn’t you?” He smirks at me.

“It’s not lost. It’s around here somewhere,” I grumble.

“One of the guys drove her down to the parking lot. If you hurry, you can be the one to bring her back home,” he shouts. I’m already stomping through the gravel halfway to my four-wheeler. I don’t know which one of these high school numbskulls thought it was a smart idea to take my girl for a ride.

When I pull up behind the other vehicles, Wren is directing her army of parking attendants. These guys will handle crowd control with the cars, making sure everyone is safe and using the parking lot efficiently.

A few of the guys are paying more attention to Wren’s legs than her instructions. I stand beside her and cross my arms over my chest. She does a double take and rolls her eyes when she sees me glaring down her admirers.

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmurs to me.

“I think you underestimate the power of frayed denim and tanned legs,” I say, while keeping my eyes straight ahead.

“Does anyone have any questions?” Wren asks, ignoring me. A few kids ask questions which Wren answers expertly.

“Great. We open at ten. You can start allowing cars in fifteen minutes early. We need to keep the road clear if possible,” I tell the crew. They nod and go off to do whatever Wren asked them to do while they wait.

Wren glances at the main road. “Cars are already starting to line up.”

“You did a great job, birdie. You’ve turned this whole place around.” I throw an arm over her shoulder and walk her back to the four wheeler.

“We all did this. It was a family effort.”

“You’re right. It was.” I kiss the top of her head. “Get in. I’ll take you back to the house. What time are your parents getting here?”

“Any minute. They wanted to be here early in case we needed help. I expect my mom to be full on Dolly with pink cowboy boots and big hair.”

“Think she’ll want to borrow my silver chaps?” I joke.

“Don’t tempt her with a good time,” Wren deadpans. “Can you drive us to the barn? I’ve got something for you.”

“We don’t have time for that, birdie.”

“That is not what I’m talking about,” she says, slapping my arm.

Once I park, she hops out of the four wheeler and I follow her inside the barn. She digs around in one of the boxes we have full of branded T-shirts. I’m not sure why, I already have mine.

With one hand behind her back, she stalks toward me. She reaches up and removes my old Newhouse hat from my head. “We’ve got new dreams now,” she says, before placing a Songland Farms hat on my head.

“How did I get so lucky?” I ask, swallowing down the emotions I feel with starting this new dream with her.

“I don’t know. I ask myself the same thing every day.” She tilts her head and gives me a kiss under the bill of my hat.

"Thank you, birdie," I say, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close.

“Knock, knock. Sorry to interrupt,” a female voice calls out from the front of the barn.

Wren breaks our kiss and looks over my shoulder. “Mom. Dad!” She rushes to greet them.

Great. Of course they would show up when I’m making out with their daughter. Not the first impression I was hoping for.

“This is Wyatt,” Wren says, pulling me closer to them.

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you both,” I say. Wren’s mom—who is wearing pink cowboy boots—pulls me into a hug.

“It’s nice to finally meet you too,” she says, when she lets me go. “He’s so handsome, Wren.” She winks at her daughter and fans her face with her hand. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from laughing.

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