Page 37 of The Foul Out

She perked up in her chair, her eyes brightening.

“But I haven’t had the best luck with babysitters. My ex is supposed to have the kids that night, though. So as long as he doesn’t cancel, I can make it work.”

“Oh.” She clapped quietly, grinning. “I’m so happy you’re coming.”

That wasn’t anywhere near a guarantee, but I didn’t correct her.

“If we adjustthe tube three-quarters of an inch to the right, then the ball will exit at the same angle as the next line,” Collette explained to Piper as she bent down and used a ruler to adjust the tube, causing her blond braids to slip over her shoulder.

“Good.” Phoebe, Collette’s twin sister, nodded.

“We are so going to the crush them.” I rubbed my hands together. I could taste our victory already. My girls were rocking this.

Across the room, Dylan’s teenage son, Liam, and his team of six were setting up a piddly domino run. They didn’t stand a chance against us. Grey had already knocked their line over twice in his excitement, and they hadn’t even figured out how to get the last domino from the table to hit the first on the floor. Not to mention, ours went over a bookshelf, down the desk and across half the room. We had three twists and one Matchboxcar run. Between the twins, who were smarter than most rocket scientists, and Piper, we were going to crush them.

Dylan coughed, garnering my attention, and when I eyed her, she gave me a frown.

“Right, right. Not a contest,” I corrected, although I didn’t mean it. “This is just for fun.”

“Right.” Collette’s tone was just as placating as mine.

Piper surveyed the other group’s setup. “I don’t see a single category in which theirs would be better than ours.”

“Exactly.” A devilish cackle left Phoebe’s lips as she held up a fist.

Piper looked at Phoebe’s hand and blinked. Then she hesitantly tapped her knuckles against the older girl’s. The twins were a few years older than she was, but they had taken her under their wing within an hour of our arrival.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, so without disturbing the girls or their dominoes, I shifted back and dug it out.

Kayla: Got approval from the mom. She didn’t ask too many questions, but I could hear them in her voice. Be ready for a bunch after she gets the email.

Of course Harper would make this hard. Because of their connection to me, it would be against guidelines and rules to award Piper a grant.

But I could get around that easily. Rather than give her the grant from Hope Speaks, I would pay for Piper’s therapy outright. As long as I took care of the bills, I’d keep all communication running through Hope Speaks. Unless Harper became difficult. And already, the potential was looming.

Me: Just keep the language in the email vague.

Kayla: You’re the boss. (But I’m telling you again that this is a bad idea. When it blows up, please don’t fire me.)

Me: You and Cam have made your opinions clear.

They had both given me thejust tell her the truthspeech. But that wouldn’t get us anywhere. If she knew, then there was no way she’d accept any type of help from me. She was barely tolerating me as it was. Eventually I’d have to talk to her about my relationship with JJ, but I’d wait until she and I were on better terms.

“We are locking in this win,” Phoebe called to a girl with dark hair on the other side of the room.

The girl, who was about her age, responded by sticking out her tongue.

“Winnie, Phoebe, don’t fight,” Dylan said, keeping her tone melodic, even as she reprimanded the kids. “Maybe it’s time for a snack break.”

“Is it cookie time, Auntie Dylan?” a boy with dark hair and wide eyes asked quietly.

A boy in jeans and a denim jacket buttoned up to his neck stepped up beside Kai. His curly hair was like a brown puffball on his head. “Can we all have cookies?”

Dylan smiled. “Sure, we can do a cookie break, Finn.”

Piper whipped around, her pigtails smacking her cheeks. “It isnotsnack time. We had a snack at ten thirty. It’s now 1:04.” Her hands were balled into fists on either side of her and pressed into the carpet, and her body was rigid.

Bummer. A cookie sounded good. The gluten-free pretzels and juice boxes had been the bomb at snack time, even if Dylan’s lanky teenager had given me a look when I sat down at the table with kids, patiently waiting for my serving. Apparently he thought he was too old for a juice box. I would never be too old, though.

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