by Tara Wyatt
“Mmm.” She hummed against his lips as he kissed her, and he wondered if the memories were causing the same tender tug in her chest that he felt in his. She broke the kiss, trailing her lips down his jaw and neck before resting her head on his shoulder. “And what’s your life been like? I mean, I know some of it, the baseball stuff.”
“Because of your job.” A part of him hoped that she’d been deliberately keeping tabs on him.
“Yeah, mostly. And maybe a little curiosity from time to time.”
He smiled, his ego growing at least half a size as he stroked a hand over her hair. “I got drafted by the Padres during my junior year, so I left Vandy and joined their farm system.”
“Do you regret not finishing?”
He shrugged. “Nah, not really. Going to college was always about baseball for me, not school. That probably makes me sound like a dumb jock.”
She made a thoughtful sound, a murmuring hum. “I dunno. You were focused on your goal. I don’t think that’s dumb.”
He kissed the top of her head. God, he could spend every night of his life like this, just holding her and talking to her. It was so easy, so effortless. Like running down a hill, letting gravity pull you to exactly where you were supposed to end up.
“I played in the farm system for two seasons and then got called up, and I played for the Padres for four seasons before being traded. Although I didn’t really play much last season.” A sour taste rose up in the back of his throat as he remembered the shit he’d been through last year.
“It must’ve been hard to have an injury like that.”
“It was. Having surgery, working through physio and rehab…” He shook his head slowly, remembering the pain, the crushing defeat, the frustration he’d felt. “They were dark days. I…” He took a breath, not wanting her to think less of him, but wanting to open himself up to her. Wanting her to see all of him. “I got depressed. Real depressed. All I wanted to do was sit at home and drink beer and watch Netflix. I stopped going out with friends, stopped shaving, stopped caring, just felt so fucking sorry for myself. I felt like if I couldn’t play, everything else was just worthless. I felt worthless.” The words stuck in his throat a bit, but it felt good to force them out.
“I’m sorry, Dylan,” she said quietly. “I had no idea it was so difficult for you. I can’t even imagine facing something like that.”
“I thought my career was over.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No. I somehow managed to get my shit together. Saw the team psychologist, focused on my rehab program. Did whatever I needed to do to get right. Hell, I even took antidepressants for a while.” He lifted his head and glanced at her, trying to gauge her reaction. When he’d first started taking them, it had felt like giving in to what he’d thought was weakness. He knew now that getting the help he’d needed had taken strength, but even knowing that didn’t lessen the stigma that came with it.
“Did they help?”
“I think they did, yeah. Got me out of my rut. I was just so stuck. I thought my career was over. And then when I came back and couldn’t hit…”
“You felt like your fears were coming true.” He nodded, loving the way she saw right to the heart of him without even trying. She’d agreed to friendship, but tonight felt like more. At least, it did to him.
“Yeah, in a way. But that’s all behind me now.” And then he kissed her, long and deep, anchoring himself in the here and now, with her, leaving the past alone.
Nine
Five weeks.
It had been five weeks since Dylan McCormick had neatly inserted himself back into Maggie’s life. Okay, fine, it had been her idea for the two of them to sleep together, but what she’d originally intended to be a fling for the sake of closure was slowly morphing into something else. Something more. Every time she was with him, golden memories resurfaced, as though just being near him pulled them up from the depths in which she’d buried them. She’d spent a lot of time trying to rebury them, but it was useless; they kept popping back up, no matter how hard she tried to focus on the here and now and building some kind of friendship with him. A friendship which, if she was honest, still felt risky. She couldn’t seem to hold herself back from him, and yet she knew what kind of damage he was capable of inflicting.
Somehow, being Dylan’s friend felt far more dangerous than sleeping with him. She was trying to keep her walls in place, but he kept chipping away at them. Pulling them apart one brick at a time until she couldn’t help but give him glimpses of her soft, hidden center.
It was terrifying. She was already giving him too much of herself, but she didn’t know how to stop. How to hold just enough of herself back so that if he hurt her again, she’d survive it.
“We are not dating. I do not have feelings for Dylan. We are friends who have sex. Really, really great sex. This is temporary, and when it’s over, I’ll have closure and will be able to move on, no harm done.” She repeated the words to herself under her breath, her daily mantra. Her reminder. Her affirmation that she wasn’t playing a risky game with her heart by spending time with Dylan.
“Did you say something?” asked Jess, frowning down at her tablet.
“Sorry, just talking to myself. What do you need me to do?” she asked, wiping her palms on her jeans. Activity buzzed around them as the team’s charity event, Little Longhorns Day, was about to get underway. This type of event wasn’t really Maggie’s responsibility, but Jess and Laurel had mentioned they could use a hand, and she was happy to help her friends out.
“There’s another box of children’s hats in the storage area by the visiting bullpen. Can you grab it?”
“On it,” Maggie answered with a little salute. They’d been blessed with gorgeous spring weather for this year’s Little Longhorns Day. The sun shone down on the field, not a cloud in the sky, and a light breeze blew. The temperature hovered somewhere in the high seventies, and the air smelled fresh, the scent of freshly cut grass mingling with the warm air. Once she’d retrieved the box and deposited it with Jess, Maggie surveyed the field, a sense of satisfaction filling her. She couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day for the kids.
About a hundred children between the ages of six and twelve were on the field, accompanied by about twenty Longhorns players. Some were running through drills and exercises with Alejandro Cruz, while others were receiving one-on-one coaching from various players. Others waited at the face painting station, wanting to get the Longhorns logo on their cheeks. Later, there’d be a dunk tank where they could practice their newly acquired throwing skills by trying to dunk Lucky Longhorn, the team’s troublemaking cowboy mascot. Excited laughter and cheers mixed with the upbeat pop music playing through the stadium’s speakers, and she couldn’t help but smile. For these kids, this would be a day to remember, and she was happy to be a part of it.
As she scanned the field, she spotted Dylan. She hadn’t been looking for him, but she hadn’t exactly not been looking for him, either. He crouched down in front of a young girl with blond pigtails and placed a baseball in her hand, gently adjusting her grip on it. Then, very slowly, he mimed an overhead throwing motion, moving with easy athletic grace as he showed her the proper movements and when to release the ball. The little girl watched him earnestly, her big eyes serious. She was a skinny little thing, with knobby knees and a face that hadn’t seen enough laughter. Maggie felt a pang of tenderness toward the girl; she could’ve been looking at herself for all the similarities.
Dylan rose from his crouch and took a few steps away from the girl, holding out his glove. Heat flushed through her as she watched him. His baseball pants clung to his muscular ass and thighs, his corded forearms rippling, his jersey framing his broad shoulders. His usual stubble coated his jaw and the sweet, encouraging smile he flashed the little girl melted something deep inside her. An unexpected wave of possessiveness crashed into her as she stared at him, leaving her feeling adrift and confused because she didn’t know what to do with it.
The little girl threw the ball right to Dylan, and he caught it easily. He smiled even bigger and jogged back toward her for a high five, which she gave him with a shy giggle. He handed the ball back to her, encouraging her to try again. He was so sweet with her, so at ease, that it made something twist and tighten inside Maggie, as though she were being squeezed from the inside out. It hurt and felt good at the same time, a sensation she both wanted to run from and run toward.
Dylan moved back beside the girl and crouched down again, showing her how to hold her glove with the edge flush against the ground. When he was satisfied with her positioning, he moved back to where he’d been standing and gently rolled the ball toward her. He was teaching her how to field a ground ball, Maggie realized. The girl clamped her glove down on it.
“Good job, Kaylee!” he called out, and the girl beamed at him. She rose and threw the ball back to him. Dylan was a good teacher—kind and patient. She shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d learned firsthand what a good teacher Dylan was. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered their date at the batting cages all those years ago. The feel of his arms around her, his warm, solid body pressed against her from behind as he adjusted her grip on the bat. They’d been dating for a week or so and had only crossed first base, but she was hungry for more. She’d missed nearly every ball that had come her way. She’d been too distracted with how good he felt and all the things she wanted—far more pressing, urgent things than hitting a baseball. It had been the first time she’d felt him, thick and hard beneath his jeans, pressed against her ass. Feeling bold, she’d pressed her hips back and rubbed against him, eliciting a groan that had practically set her skin on fire.
“Tell me what you want,” he’d whispered in her ear, sending tingles down her spine.
“I want…I want you to touch me.”
He’d dropped a hand from the bat to her stomach, his fingers pointing down to where she ached to be touched. “Hit the ball, Mags.” His voice had been low and gravelly. As though he needed to touch her as much as she needed it.
She’d never been so desperate to hit a damn baseball in her life.
“Oh my God,” came Jess’s voice from beside her, snapping Maggie back to the present. “I don’t even like dudes, but he is so freaking hot it’s ridiculous. I mean, those eyes. Those arms. That smile. That ass. Damn.” Jess made an appreciative purring sound. “How are things going with him, Miss ‘I-have-nothing-to-share?’”
Maggie smiled and touched her fingers to her lips. “Um, good, I guess.”
“Just good? Is that why your cheeks are on fire?”
She laughed, feeling self-conscious. “Okay, fine. Better than good. We’ve decided to be friends. With benefits. It’s been…pretty great, actually.”
Jess nodded thoughtfully. “Friends, huh? How’s that working out?”
Maggie shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s made things easier, in a way.”
“How’s that?”
“There are no games. We have rules we agreed on, and we both know what’s up. It keeps things simple.”
Jess arched an eyebrow at her. “Rules like what?”
Maggie waved a hand. “Oh, like it’s temporary, just sex, booty calls only, no romance, no catching feelings. That sort of thing.” No sleepovers. No cuddling, her brain added helpfully, listing the rules they’d broken probably a dozen times now.
“Gotcha. So you’re, like, totally free to date other people and stuff.”
“Um…well, not exactly.” Heat swirled over her as she remembered the way Dylan had made her promise she wouldn’t sleep with anyone else while they were doing…whatever it was they were doing.
Jess sent her a knowing smirk. “So, you’re friends who sleep together and don’t date other people. You’re basically dinner and a movie away from being a couple.”
“We’re not a couple.” Dating Dylan McCormick wasn’t an option. She wasn’t going to be that woman, the one who didn’t learn from the past.
“Then what are you?”
Maggie opened and closed her mouth. “I…we’re friends with benefits. That’s it.”
“If you’re sure.” Jess laid a hand on Maggie’s arm. “Just…be careful, babe. Okay? Look after yourself. Protect your heart.”
Maggie nodded. “I will. I am.”
“Good. I’m going to go check on the dunk tank.”
Maggie nodded, her eyes immediately moving back to Dylan. Kaylee was now leading him toward one of the face painting stations. The little girl tugged on his hand, urging him into one of the kid-sized chairs, and Maggie bit back a smile at the way Dylan’s knees almost came to his shoulders. He was so kind and warm with her—not that she’d expected anything different from him—that it was turning her insides into melted marshmallow, all sticky and sweet and soft. The lingering doubts from her conversation with Jess grew louder and harder to ignore, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was getting sucked in like a bird into an airplane engine. Unable to resist and doomed from the start.
Kaylee put a little red bow in Dylan’s short hair and he laughed, leaving it exactly where it was. Maggie wasn’t even melted marshmallow anymore, but something far less solid. Weak and mushy.
Remember what happens to the bird, Maggie. Remember what happened to you when you tried to fly too high, up where you didn’t belong. Because just like it would be pure insanity for a bird to chase an airplane, she’d be insane to let herself get caught up in feeling anything for Dylan again.
No catching feelings. He’s just a friend.
Laurel came jogging up to her, slightly out of breath. “Hey, have you seen Lucky? I can’t find him.”
Maggie shook her head. “No, but I’ll go take a look around. Maybe he’s running late.”
She headed off to do a sweep of the off-field area, walking faster than normal to try to burn off some of the heat watching Dylan had stirred up inside her. But there was no sign of Lucky—or rather, Mitch, the man who played Lucky—anywhere. As she headed back toward the field, her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her back pocket.
Laurel: I just heard from Mitch. Apparently he had some bad oysters yesterday and he won’t be able to make it.
Jess: Crap. Crappity crap crap
Laurel: We need to figure out a replacement. Any ideas?
Maggie spun to head back to the field, jumping into action to help her friends when she collided with a hard chest, and a set of strong hands gripped her arms to steady her. She looked up to find Dylan staring down at her, and she burst out laughing.
A very messy, very glittery Longhorns logo adorned his handsome face, courtesy of Kaylee. The little red bow still clung to his hair—barely. Maggie pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to contain her laughter, but he looked so ridiculous that she couldn’t help it.
Dylan dropped his hands and planted them on his hips, his eyes sparkling. “What? You don’t like my new look?”
“Uh…it’s something, that’s for sure.”
He started laughing too and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Didn’t have the heart to say no to her.”
“I can’t blame you. She’s pretty cute.”
“Kinda reminded me of you.”
Maggie bit her lip, trying to contain her smile as her insides warmed and butterflies unfurled in her belly.
“What was it—the knobby knees? The horrible makeup skills?”
He shook his head, smiling at her. “Nope. She was sweet and fun and earnest. It was adorable. Probably why I couldn’t say no, even though I’m now covered in glitter.”
His words touched something deep inside her, making it a little harder to breathe. She reached out and brushed some stray glitter off his shoulder. She wanted to let her hand linger, to curl her fingers into the solid muscle there, but didn’t. They were supposed to be friends, and none of her thoughts were particularly friend-like right now. Everything was getting all tangled up, and she didn’t know what to do about it.
She rubbed her fingers ag
ainst her thumb, trying to dislodge the glitter. “You had sparkles on your jersey.”
Dylan leaned a bit closer, a mischievous smile on his face. “I think I have glitter in places where there is definitely not supposed to be glitter. I’m going to be finding it for weeks.”
Maggie laughed. “It is the herpes of the craft world. Once you have it, you have it for good.”
Dylan wrinkled his nose. “That’s an appetizing visual.”
“You’re welcome.”
He rocked back on his heels and glanced over his shoulder at the field. “Event seems to be going really well. The kids are having a blast. Well, at least Kaylee is.” He winked and a few new butterflies joined the others. She tried to squash them down. Butterflies were not a good thing. Butterflies meant feelings and feelings meant things would be over between them and…shit. She didn’t want them to be over. And she sure as hell didn’t know how to feel about that.
“You guys have all been great today.” She tipped her head and smiled, gesturing at his horrendous face paint. “But I do think you get today’s good sport award.”
He held his hand over his heart. “Always happy to take one for the team.”
A thought occurred to her, and she looked up at him, biting her lip. “Would you be willing to take one more?”
“What do you need?” Warmth rolled over her at the way he asked without hesitation, stepping up to help immediately.
“Mitch, the guy in the Lucky costume, is sick and can’t make it today, which means we don’t have anyone for the dunk tank.”
Dylan’s eyebrows rose. “And you want me to fill in?”
“Normally, I wouldn’t ask, but I saw how great you were with Kaylee, and with Mitch calling in sick at the last minute—”
He cut her off, an easy smile on his face. “Okay. I’ll do it. I mean, it’s just water, right? There’s no sharks or gators in there waiting to take a bite out of me?”
“I’ll tell them to cancel the piranhas if you’re going to be a wimp about it.” She tried and failed to keep a straight face, a grin pulling her lips upward.
