Page 100 of Mom Ball

That let me know the only reason I’m in Atlanta is the Braves. And the only other place I want to be is with Brooke. On some subconscious level, I believe that’s what drew me back to Apple Cart.

I got all nostalgic about the house I bought, idolizing it as a child and playing ball in the field across from it. Heck, I wasn’t sure Brooke still lived in town. But her family’s orchard was down the same road, and that was all it took to sell me.

That town, that orchard, and that field always belonged to us in my heart. Nowhere else could ever compare. Not even a stadium full of cheering fans.

CHAPTER 21

Brooke

Aside from bulk apple deliveries to their Piggly Wiggly, I haven’t been to Moonshine County since we played them in high school. Unless you count our celebratory meal at Enchilada, which is barely across the county line.

Now I’m at their baseball park for the first time.

It’s about what I’d expect. The only things offered at the concession stand are boiled peanuts and fried Twinkies. Although a lot of adults keep pulling beer from coolers since this is a wet county. Oh, and there’s a few women shaking cocktails under a tent.

I pull my sunglasses down and squint. Sure enough, that’s Tami with them. I don’t know what surprises me more. The fact that she went up to random strangers for a homemade drink or that they gave her one.

She lifts a red Solo cup when she sees me and smiles. I fake a smile and look away. This should be an interesting night.

Morgan slides beside me and sighs. “I just found out we’re not playing Nicorette again.” She tosses a few peanuts in her mouth and chews before continuing. “This team is supposed to be better.”

I nod. At this point I’m more worried about the crowd than the team. Moonshine County has a certain reputation, but I’ve never experienced it so up close and personal. The combination of warmer weather and Little League has this place looking like a People of Walmart fashion show.

Charlie is gawking at a girl whose shorts could qualify for blue-jean panties. Maribelle covers his eyes and calls to Morgan and me, “Do we know what field we’re on?”

Morgan checks her phone. “Field three.” She looks around and nods toward the field.

A younger group of players runs by on their way to the concession stand. I shake my head to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Nope. Their caps say MF. That’s highly inappropriate.

Only when they pass us do I notice “Sponsored by Moonshine Furniture” on the back of their jerseys. Still, inappropriate.

Our group heads that way, except for Tami, who is content with her new friends. Maybe she will stay in Moonshine.

“Some of those kids are huge!” Timothy gawks.

“Shh.” The last thing we need is for him to scare everyone before we even throw a ball.

Georgia tiptoes over mud toward us. Her face is scrunched like she smelled a fart. In a place like this, she could’ve smelled anything.

“Everyone’s here.” She huffs. “I was hoping this was the wrong park.”

I raise a brow. “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.”

“Apparently not.” She lifts her foot and grimaces at mud caked on the side of her white sneakers. “I brought the kids some candy for later.” She slides a box out of her Bogg bag.

“Thanks.”

I turn my attention to the field. Timothy makes a good point. Some of those kids are close to my height. I haul my lawn chair to the dugout. One of the coaches yells something foreign and half the kids nod.

“Is that Spanish?” I ask.

Morgan leans closer and listens. “I’m no Don Quixote, but that scruffy kid did answer him with “sí, señor.”

She takes a step back and whistles. The kids stand at attention. “Grab a glove and go to the outfield. We need to warm up.”

The kids jog onto the field, except for Reece. He trips on his Harry Potter robe. I help him stand. “Sweetie, why are you wearing this again?”

“I keep it in my bat bag for good luck. When we got out, I saw a bunch of people in costumes, so I thought I should put it on.”

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