Free No Breaking My Heart by Kate Angell Page B

physical education teacher.”
    â€œHow about you, dude?”
    Will was solemn. Respectful. “Private Andrew Davidson. Army. Iraq. He was on patrol, enemy fire, and was severely wounded. His right arm was amputated. His baseball throwing arm. His sister sent in the entry. Praising her brother’s love for his country and major league baseball. Andrew continues to play slow-pitch on a veteran team. The players have disabilities.”
    Landon approved. “Davidson was a good choice.”
    â€œYour winner?” Will asked.
    â€œEleanor Norris. She’s ninety.”
    â€œIn good health?”
    â€œShe uses a cane, but otherwise she still kicks ass, or so she says.”
    â€œShe said ‘kick ass’?”
    â€œLady is feisty,” said Land. “Florida and baseball are on her bucket list. She can scratch off both next week.”
    Will rubbed the back of his neck. “Wonder who Halo chose?”
    â€œHopefully, someone appropriate.”
    â€œI’m guessing a female fan sent him an X-rated letter along with a nude photo. Halo is drawn to the visual.”
    Land gambled once again. “A fifty says he did right by the team and his winner is deserving.”
    â€œI’ll match your fifty. I’m betting double-D’s.”
    â€œWe’ll see.”
    Will turned back toward the beach. He shaded his eyes with his hand. “Oh, man. Woman in the white tank top and jogger pants at water’s edge.”
    Landon tipped up the bill on his baseball cap, squinted against the sun. “Hard body. Smooth stride.”
    Will rolled his tongue inside his cheek. “I haven’t jogged today.”
    â€œYou don’t jog any day.”
    â€œGood time to start.”
    â€œGo for it.”
    Will gave him a thumbs-up. The six-foot-six pitcher took off running. He didn’t look like a jogger. He’d only recently arrived on the boardwalk, following a pitchers and catchers meeting at the stadium. There’d been early press coverage. Photo ops. He looked decent, in a cream-colored polo and tan chinos. Wingtips. He’d need to pace himself in order to catch the woman. She was sleek. Into performance. Perhaps a long-distance runner. Chances were good that she’d find Will passed out on the sand on her return.
    Landon glanced at his watch. Hours to kill. What to do? His buddies were getting lucky. He was on his own, biding his time. He stood outside Molly Malone’s Diner, at the curb of the Center Street crosswalk. The crosswalk connected two adjoining sides of the boardwalk. Saunders Shores stretched south. Barefoot William north. They differed greatly.
    Barefoot William was as honky-tonk as the Shores was high-end. Couture, gourmet dining, and a five-star hotel claimed the southern boundaries. Waterfront mansions welcomed the rich and retired. Yachts the size of cruise ships lined the waterways. Private airstrips replaced commercial travel. The affluent were a community unto themselves. Forbes listed Saunders Shores as the wealthiest resort community in the country.
    In comparison, the opposite side of the street shouted fun in the sun. Team Captain Rylan Cates’s family owned Barefoot William, and his relatives operated the northern shops. Here, tourists never wore a watch. Beach attire was permitted in shops, diners, and bars. Casual was the name of the game. Free and easy worked best for Landon.
    He debated his late afternoon options. Carnival rides and arcade amusements appealed greatly. He liked the carefree moments of feeling like a kid again. There were as many adults as children indulging in activities.
    A century-old carousel whirled within a waterproof enclosure. Its walls of windows overlooked the Gulf. The merry-go-round cranked “Roll out the Barrel” as the hand-carved purple-and-white wooden horses went up and down and all around. The Ferris wheel turned slowly, while the swing ride whipped out and over the water. Late