That Fine Line (Pride and Pranks, #1)

by Cindy Steel

“You’re not nervous, are you?” the moron behind me asked. “A big-time all-star like you.” “Do me a favor,” I said, not looking at him. “When I’m ready to swing, do you think you could move up a foot or two?”

“I thought it was a bit high too,” Cade whispered. “Shut up.”

And there it was. The statement I should have been prepared for. The apology had been a decoy. I repeat, the apology had been a decoy.

Eugene was pretty, in a rustic sort of way; the way you might pick up a discarded penny from the sidewalk only to turn it over and see bright, shiny copper hidden on the other side.

Harold’s only crime was being a close talker and having breath that could curdle milk. Harmless, really—in the grand scheme of things. What had I been complaining about? He was a delight. So funny and kind. A great cowhand.

“Only a sociopath would eat plain tuna. Although, that probably checks out.”

“That wasn’t a prank. I thought you were my dad.” “Ew. This isn’t Kentucky.”