Read Sparing the Heart (Pastime Pursuits #3) for Free Online Page B
Authors: Tracy Krimmer
buffoon?
“You’ll do fine. Everyone loves my brother.” She takes my bowling bag from me and sets it down. “There he is now!” I take out my shoes as she flaps her hands in the air to get his attention.
“Hey, Gretchen!”
My head jerks back to steal a glimpse of this guy. He’s average height with dark hair brushed back in a way that masks waves that would otherwise be out of control. His eyes are set wide apart, his brows arched and I think his eyes are smiling. When he’s closer I’m drawn to the deep lines forming underneath his cheekbones, only drawing attention to his thin lips. Facial hair isn’t something I particularly like, but this man wears a light beard well, the perfect amount outlining his face and the mustache darting under his nose.
“Kellan! I’m glad you decided to show.”
“Stop it. You know I wouldn’t miss a game.” He tosses his bag on an empty chair and I’m immediately captivated by the distinct lines defining his biceps. The burnt orange shirt makes his muscles pop, and the sun agrees with him. I don’t tan. I burn. To a crisp.
“You only ditch practice.”
“Anyway, is this my teammate?” Our eyes lock and neither of us back down. My body heats up when he smiles, keeping his mouth closed as his strawberry lips curl at the corners.
“I’m Kate.” I reach my hand out and he takes a moment before shaking it. His hands are warm and cover most of mine.
“Kate. That’s easy to remember.”
“She’s pretty damn good, Kellan,” Tiffany jumps in. “She’ll put you to shame.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” I jump in. I don’t want him to think I think I’m better than him. I’ve never seen him play.
“Well, I’m not too shabby myself.” Kellan breezes past me, picks up a ball, and shoots it down the lane, knocking down every single pin.
“No. Pure luck. He’s shabby,” Gretchen teases.
He furrows his brow at his sister, and I already love their connection. My relationship with my brother is similar. We weren’t always close, but over the past few years we bonded. I called him every week when I first moved here. Now we send emails every once in awhile.
“Let’s start this game. I want to check out your moves.” He taps me on the shoulder and I straighten my body. He’s friendly, and more than easy on the eyes.
I begin to put our info into the scoring station computer. Tuesday’s practice reenergized me and I’m ready to play.
“So when you’re not bowling, what do you do?” Kellan asks as I punch in our names.
“I’m a realtor. I’m either showing a house or trying to convince someone to sell one. My job owns me, night or day.”
“You sound like you’re a doctor, constantly on call.”
“I might as well be.” I shrug. “Clients want me available whenever they want.” I’m lucky I don’t receive calls in the middle of the night. A few have called as early as five-thirty in the morning and as late as eleven at night. This happens the most with first-time homebuyers waiting for an accepted offer. They’re anxious, and with reason, but sometimes I can’t even breathe.
I finish entering our information. I like that he’s chatting with me. He’s only been here five minutes and he doesn’t feel like a stranger. In fact, I’m sure I’ve seen him before.
Kellan sits down next to me, our arms almost touching. “Well now’s the time to unwind. No checking cell phones or thinking about clients. Although, I am in search of a house, so don’t leave here tonight without giving me your card, okay Miss Kate?”
“Miss Kate? Am I your Sunday School teacher now?”
I laugh at him and stare down at the scoreboard. I can sense him still looking at me as he says, “Hardly.”
Chills are ransacking my body, my heart rate rapidly increasing with this man seated inches from me. No, Kate , I tell myself. He’s unavailable. So why is he flirting with me? This hasn’t happened in quite awhile, but I recognize flirting when it’s
“You’ll do fine. Everyone loves my brother.” She takes my bowling bag from me and sets it down. “There he is now!” I take out my shoes as she flaps her hands in the air to get his attention.
“Hey, Gretchen!”
My head jerks back to steal a glimpse of this guy. He’s average height with dark hair brushed back in a way that masks waves that would otherwise be out of control. His eyes are set wide apart, his brows arched and I think his eyes are smiling. When he’s closer I’m drawn to the deep lines forming underneath his cheekbones, only drawing attention to his thin lips. Facial hair isn’t something I particularly like, but this man wears a light beard well, the perfect amount outlining his face and the mustache darting under his nose.
“Kellan! I’m glad you decided to show.”
“Stop it. You know I wouldn’t miss a game.” He tosses his bag on an empty chair and I’m immediately captivated by the distinct lines defining his biceps. The burnt orange shirt makes his muscles pop, and the sun agrees with him. I don’t tan. I burn. To a crisp.
“You only ditch practice.”
“Anyway, is this my teammate?” Our eyes lock and neither of us back down. My body heats up when he smiles, keeping his mouth closed as his strawberry lips curl at the corners.
“I’m Kate.” I reach my hand out and he takes a moment before shaking it. His hands are warm and cover most of mine.
“Kate. That’s easy to remember.”
“She’s pretty damn good, Kellan,” Tiffany jumps in. “She’ll put you to shame.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” I jump in. I don’t want him to think I think I’m better than him. I’ve never seen him play.
“Well, I’m not too shabby myself.” Kellan breezes past me, picks up a ball, and shoots it down the lane, knocking down every single pin.
“No. Pure luck. He’s shabby,” Gretchen teases.
He furrows his brow at his sister, and I already love their connection. My relationship with my brother is similar. We weren’t always close, but over the past few years we bonded. I called him every week when I first moved here. Now we send emails every once in awhile.
“Let’s start this game. I want to check out your moves.” He taps me on the shoulder and I straighten my body. He’s friendly, and more than easy on the eyes.
I begin to put our info into the scoring station computer. Tuesday’s practice reenergized me and I’m ready to play.
“So when you’re not bowling, what do you do?” Kellan asks as I punch in our names.
“I’m a realtor. I’m either showing a house or trying to convince someone to sell one. My job owns me, night or day.”
“You sound like you’re a doctor, constantly on call.”
“I might as well be.” I shrug. “Clients want me available whenever they want.” I’m lucky I don’t receive calls in the middle of the night. A few have called as early as five-thirty in the morning and as late as eleven at night. This happens the most with first-time homebuyers waiting for an accepted offer. They’re anxious, and with reason, but sometimes I can’t even breathe.
I finish entering our information. I like that he’s chatting with me. He’s only been here five minutes and he doesn’t feel like a stranger. In fact, I’m sure I’ve seen him before.
Kellan sits down next to me, our arms almost touching. “Well now’s the time to unwind. No checking cell phones or thinking about clients. Although, I am in search of a house, so don’t leave here tonight without giving me your card, okay Miss Kate?”
“Miss Kate? Am I your Sunday School teacher now?”
I laugh at him and stare down at the scoreboard. I can sense him still looking at me as he says, “Hardly.”
Chills are ransacking my body, my heart rate rapidly increasing with this man seated inches from me. No, Kate , I tell myself. He’s unavailable. So why is he flirting with me? This hasn’t happened in quite awhile, but I recognize flirting when it’s