Page 11 of Stealing Home

5

Harlow

“DidI hear you say you’re organizing a baseball clinic for kids?” A beautiful woman asks as she approaches the table.

I nod my head. “Yeah, it’s this weekend. Kind of last minute, but I just got it thrust on me last night.”

“Is it for both boys and girls?” she asks.

I never bothered to ask. “You know, I don’t know what they’re expecting. My husband dumped this on me without any details.”

The look on her face says she knows what that’s like. “Let me send a text and get that information,” I tell her, not wanting to accept sympathy from a stranger. I’m not sure if Scott has pulled out of the parking lot yet, but hopefully he’ll be able to answer a text.

Hey, hotshot, is the clinic for boys only, or can girls sign up too?

He replies almost immediately.

They’re kids. Fuck the misogynist shit. I say let the girls play.

Good enough for me. “My co-organizer says girls can play.”

She smiles. “Good. I’ve got a lot of kids to sign up then. Mine, my cousins, and my uh grandkids.”

I raise an eyebrow and she laughs. “It’s a long story.”

“You can’t be any older than I am,” I comment. She looks to be in her twenties, but there’s wisdom in her eyes that only comes with time.

She takes the seat Scott vacated. “I’m thirty-four. My first husband was, well, pretty much the worst.”

I laugh, a hollow sound. “I bet mine could beat him.” I want to slap my own mouth, but something about her has me sharing my pain.

She looks over at the window that separates the cafe from the auto shop. Two men are inside busy working on a sports car. One of them turns around and catches her eye. The air sizzles between them.

“That’s my husband, Griffin. The man next to him, Liam, is his son and my first husband.”

My jaw drops, and I giggle. “They’re both handsome, but I’d say you traded up.”

She fans herself and I laugh harder. “That man is my world, and my ex and I are fine now, so it all worked out. I’m Wren by the way,” she introduces herself.

“Harlow,” I reply.

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this. Years ago, my now best friend Bess, came up to me and told me we were going to be best friends. I thought she was nuts, but I was so alone, I latched onto her like a lifeline. Now I know what she saw. So, don’t think I’m insane when I tell you that we’re going to be friends. Trauma recognizes trauma.”

I frown. “I don’t normally over share with strangers. I just—”

“Get overwhelmed? I’ve been there. And that friend I told you about barreled straight in, knocked my walls down, and kept me going when I wanted to crumble. Like I said, we’re friends now. It’s like insta-love, except the friendship version.”

I close my eyes and moan. “You’re a reader too? If you tell me you read monster smut I’m going to suggest we get matching friendship necklaces.”

She laughs. “Peen with bling? Hell yeah. I’ve got normal every day, when I read, I want an escape.”

I look back at the window. “Girl, I’d say you’ve already got a steamy contemporary in there.”

Her laugh lifts my spirits. “I really do. I can’t complain anymore. Although there was this one time Bess tried to help him grovel by suggesting he read some of my books. He didn’t understand the assignment, but it was still a good time.”

“Well, I’m officially jealous,” I admit.

Her lips quirk to the side. “Nah, I’d say you’re just at the beginning of your story. I’m ready to be the quirky sidekick for once.”

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