Page 75 of Mom Ball

He rolls a fajita as I take a bite. “Not bad.”

“See, I told you.” He bites into his food and smiles.

Loud, annoying laughter catches my attention. Tami is standing in the center of the room, talking to handlebar mustache.

He disappears to the edge of the room, then returns with a microphone.

“What in the?”

Nate laughs. “They do karaoke on weekends. I guess Tami wanted a wild Tuesday night.”

“You go to that?” I arch a brow at him.

He laughs harder. “I’ve gotten fajitas to go on a Friday night.”

I sigh, relieved Nate doesn’t frequent Enchilada. The tacos and salsa are good, but I imagine a rough crowd here for Friday karaoke.

The microphone squeaks and I almost choke on my water. An older box TV cuts on in the corner with lyrics. The cliché Hispanic beats playing over the speakers are replaced with pop music.

Tami is in her element, jamming out every word to Beyonce’s “Single Ladies.” Nate and I exchange a look, and he smirks. I bite back a laugh and give it time to pass before attempting to eat more.

We continue eating and chatting about the game. He compliments Timothy and how far he’s come in a short time. “I think he’s a natural.”

He got it from his daddy. I clear my throat and choose not to say that out loud. We’re getting along so well, and there might be potential for something here. I don’t want to drop a bomb on him until I’m sure he’s interested in me, along with the kid plus Apple Cart County package I’m carrying.

“Thank you for helping him.”

Nate smiles.

“Seriously. Daddy didn’t play ball, and my brothers aren’t around much anymore. Not that they were superstars, anyway.”

“Come on, give them more credit than that.”

I roll my eyes.

“Single Ladies” finally comes to an end and “Strawberry Wine” starts playing. Maribelle and Georgia jump up and Tami shares the microphone. Nate and I watch with amusement.

“That’s a trio you don’t see every day.”

“Nope,” he agrees.

The lyrics make me a little sentimental about dating Nate back in the day. I look down at my plate and try to block out the song.

“You okay?”

I lift my eyes to Nate staring at me. “Yeah.” I shake my head. “My tacos are a little spicy,” I lie, and blot at a stray tear.

Nate hands me a napkin.

“Thanks.”

“I know we both have crazy schedules, but I’d love for just the two of us to have a quiet night in Tuscaloosa soon.”

My face involuntarily jerks into a huge smile. “I’d love that.”

Maybe one day I’ll muster up the courage to say that I still love him.

CHAPTER 16

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