Triple Score

by Regina Kyle

  “Pity.” Yannick stepped aside with a smug smile. “Maybe then you wouldn’t have torn up your knee when you crashed into me.”

  “I did not crash into you. You got in my way. Kind of like you’re doing right now.”

  Noelle brushed past him, freezing when she felt a hand squeeze her ass. Slowly, she turned to face him. “Do that again, and I’ll go to company management.”

  “And tell them what?” Yannick’s Russian accent dripped with disdain. Had she really found it sexy once upon a time? “That I touched you? Something I’ve done hundreds of times on the dance floor?”

  “But we’re not on the dance floor now. And you grabbed my ass. That’s sexual harassment.”

  He sneered. “You think management will believe your word over mine?”

  “I think they’ll believe my lawyer.” Gabe must have a friend who practiced employment law. “So if I were you, I’d think twice before you do that again. To me or anyone else.”

  With as much confidence as she could muster, Noelle spun on her heel and marched toward the stage, taking care not to strain the still tender ligament in her injured knee. The last thing she wanted to do was give Yannick the satisfaction of watching her collapse in the aisle. Talk about ruining her dramatic exit.

  A couple of rows up, a fresh-faced member of the corps who couldn’t have been more than eighteen gave Noelle a shaky smile. She worried for a split second that the girl had overheard her conversation with Yannick, then shook it off. What did she care? Let everyone know what kind of an asshat he was, if they hadn’t figured that out for themselves already.

  Wonder of wonders, the asshat must have taken her threat seriously because he gave her a wide berth for the rest of the rehearsal. Now to deal with the other human of the penis-wielding persuasion who was pissing her off royally...

  Noelle was tempted to call Jace the second rehearsal ended, but she held off until she’d made it back to her apartment. Aching muscles soothed and in her favorite jammies, despite the fact that it wasn’t even dinnertime, she slumped onto the sofa she’d spent way too much on and hit Jace’s speed dial, alternatively praying he’d pick up and he wouldn’t.

  “’Lo?” he mumbled, his voice in that deep, gruff, sexy place between asleep and awake, making her girly parts tingle.

  Stay strong, girl. Stay. Strong.

  “Did I wake you? At—” she glanced at the cathedral clock on the faux mantel “—two in the afternoon, your time? I guess now that you’re unemployed, you can sleep all day.”

  There was an awkward pause, then he cleared his throat. “Oh. You heard about that.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Not thanks to my so-called boyfriend.” She hated her spiteful tone. It seemed that she was kicking a man when he was down. But she had a right to be angry, didn’t she?

  “I was going to tell you,” Jace insisted. “It wasn’t supposed to hit the news outlets for a few more days. Someone must have leaked the information.”

  “Well, I wished someone had leaked it to me. Namely, you.” She ran a hand through her hair, still damp from the shower. “I suppose that’s why you’ve been so distant lately.”

  “I have not been distant. I’ve been...busy.”

  “Right. Too busy to tell me about a huge, life-changing event.”

  “It’s not that.” He sighed. “I just needed some time to... I don’t know. Get my act together.”

  Get his act together? Did he think she only wanted him if he had all the answers? Or if he could play baseball? Didn’t he know she couldn’t care less about that stuff? That love was supposed to be for better or for worse?

  Noelle had to scramble to keep from dropping the phone. She loved him. Really-and-truly, honest-to-goodness, ’til-death-do-us-part loved him.

  She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had happened. It had come on gradually, creeping up on her like a ninja. She’d lost her heart a little bit more every time he did something like take the time to find out her secret obsession with horror movies or give a scared teenage boy hope for the future by sharing stories of disabled athletes.

  She wanted more moments like that with him. A lifetime of moments.

  Then there was the way he made her feel when they made love. Beautiful. Uninhibited.

  Cherished.

  But the sad fact remained that, no matter how she felt, she wasn’t any more than an afterthought in his “busy” life. Not even worthy of sharing in his ups and downs.

  “You know what?” Noelle choked back a sob. This was going to be hard enough to do without falling apart. But she had to break it off before she got in any deeper, if that was possible. She’d broken the rules. Love was never supposed to be part of the equation. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She swiped a tear off her cheek. “I mean we both knew this was a long shot.”

  “What was a long shot?”

  “This relationship. Friends with benefits. Or not. Whatever you want to call it.”

  “Is that what’s bothering you?” he asked, his voice rising. He sounded totally awake now. “The label? Or is it the distance thing? Because...”

  “It’s not that. I told you before. I want your ugly. I can’t be with someone who won’t let me into his life. The good and the bad.” She took a quick, shaky breath and went on with her speech before he could interrupt and break her resolve. “I’m sorry, Jace. About your arm. About us. I wish you the best. Really, I do. You’re a great guy, with lots of talent in and out of baseball. I’m sure whatever happens you’ll land on your feet.”

  “So, that’s it then?”

  His quiet question almost wrecked her, and she just managed to croak out another “I’m sorry” before hastily pressing the end-call button. Only then did she give in to the overwhelming urge to cry, burying her face in an expensive decorative pillow and sobbing—for him, for her, for them—until she fell into a restless, troubled sleep.

  * * *

  WHEN THE BALL hit Reid’s glove, beating the runner to first for the game’s final out, the crowd erupted.

  The Storm had made the play-offs. Without Jace, who watched from the box seats behind third base as his replacement rushed the pitcher’s mound, followed closely by Cooper, Reid and the other infielders.

  It was the first time he’d been to Southern Pacific stadium since he’d been cut loose. He should feel anger, disappointment or regret.

  Something. Anything.

  Instead, he felt numb, like he’d felt every day for the past month.

  He should have known better than to answer the phone out of a stone-cold sleep that day. He’d been totally unprepared for Noelle’s long-distance attack. Hell, he hadn’t even known his news had hit the airwaves.

  And yeah, he should have told her. She shouldn’t have had to hear about something so significant through a third party. She was right about that much. But dumping him? That had blindsided him. And he hadn’t known how to respond.

  So he hadn’t. He’d gone down without a fight. What kind of man did that make him?

  “A chickenshit one,” Reid said a few hours later when Jace posed the question after pouring out the whole sorry story of his breakup over celebratory drinks at their usual post-home-game watering hole.

  “Bush league move,” Cooper agreed, sipping the cheap swill that passed, in his oh-so-humble opinion, for beer.

  “Okay.” Jace stared into his scotch. “So I fucked up.”

  “And that’s supposed to surprise us how?” Reid chuckled.

  “If you love this woman, you’ve got to step up your game,” Coop continued as if neither of them had spoken. “Bring out the big guns.”

  “And what exactly are the big guns?” Jace made air quotes around the last two words.

  “Put your heart on your sleeve.” Reid swirled his bourbon. Like Jace, he preferred a good whiskey over watery beer. “Lay it all on the line.”

  Jace traced a circle around the rim of his glass with his index finger. �
�Can you two clowns talk in anything other than clichés?”

  “I’ll say it in plain English for you.” Cooper took another swig of swill. “Get your ass on a plane to New York and grovel.”

  “Amen, brother.” Reid clinked his glass against Coop’s beer bottle.

  Jace glowered at Cooper then Reid then back at Cooper again. “Let me get this straight. I’m supposed to take relationship advice from two guys whose motto is Three Dates and Done?”

  Cooper nonchalantly lifted a shoulder. “Just because I haven’t met the right woman yet doesn’t mean I don’t know how to woo her when I do.”

  “Woo?” Reid snorted, almost spewing perfectly aged Jim Beam at the second baseman.

  “You’re not helping,” Coop snarled.

  “Neither of you are helping.” Jace stared glumly at the bottom of his empty glass and signaled the bartender for a refill.

  “Then you’re not listening.” Cooper knocked back the rest of his beer and raised the bottle, letting the barkeep know that he was ready for another round, too. “I told you what to do. Grovel. In person.”

  “Yeah.” Reid nodded. “You’re in way too deep for a phone call. And she can’t hang up on you if you appear on her doorstep.”

  “And when she’s forgiven you...” Coop started.

  “Which she will...” Reid interjected.

  “You can tell her about your new job,” Cooper finished.

  “And pray she doesn’t slam the door in your pretty face when she finds out you’ve sunk to coaching pimply faced teens,” Reid added, slapping Jace on the back for extra emphasis.

  “I haven’t accepted it yet,” Jace clarified. Not because he had a problem coaching high schoolers. To the contrary, working with Dylan had shown him that was exactly what he wanted to do. Guide kids who played for the love of the game. Help get the occasional talent who might just be good enough for college or professional ball. Only, he wasn’t sure which coast he’d be on. And that depended a lot on Noelle.

  Okay, it depended entirely on her.

  Jace was pretty sure he could get a decent coaching gig wherever he wanted. And what he wanted was to be near Noelle. He’d even spoken to his dad’s parole officer about getting permission for him to move out of state.

  Of course, that was before Noelle kicked him to the curb.

  “What exactly should this groveling entail?” He ran a finger along the smooth, polished mahogany bar top. “Flowers? Chocolate? Expensive jewelry?”

  “Trite, unoriginal and completely meaningless.” Cooper accepted another beer from the bartender, who set a fresh glass down in front of Jace and took away the empty one.

  “You need a grand gesture,” Reid said, still nursing his first bourbon. Lightweight. “Like in the movies.”

  Jace picked up glass number two but didn’t drink. “Flying cross-country on the chance that she’ll see me isn’t grand enough?”

  “Not even close.” Cooper shook his head. “Think Steve Carell’s graduation speech in Crazy, Stupid Love. Or John Cusack holding the boom box over his head outside Ione Skye’s window in Say Anything.”

  It was a good thing Jace hadn’t taken a drink yet, because if he had it would have wound up all over Cooper’s T-shirt declaring the Storm that year’s division champion. “What the hell movies have you been watching in the clubhouse? Has the entire team gone to shit without me?”

  “As if.” Coop pointed at his shirt. “We did just win the division, or have you forgotten?”

  “The chick flicks were Hafler’s idea,” Reid said. “He read some article about how the Green Bay Packers watch rom-coms together and wound up landing roles in Pitch Perfect 2.”

  “They’re not half bad, actually,” Cooper admitted. “The movies, I mean. Not the football players.”

  “I don’t know,” Reid disagreed. “I thought the Packers held their own in the a cappella battle scene.”

  “Hello?” Jace tapped his glass on the bar. “Can we focus? Desperate man here.”

  “Let me ask you something.” Cooper stared at Jace over the rim of his beer bottle. “What’s the one thing all grand gestures have in common?”

  “Public humiliation?” Jace suggested.

  “No.” Cooper grinned like the deliberately evasive idiot he was being. “Although that doesn’t hurt.”

  “What’s important is that it shows her how much she means to you.” Reid swirled the remnants of his bourbon around in his glass before finally polishing it off. “You know your lady better than we do. What would let Noelle know how you feel about her?”

  Good question. Jace thought about what had gone wrong between them. It wasn’t the distance that had been their downfall. It was his stubborn insistence on protecting Noelle from the seedy side of his life, his refusal to let her in on the bad as well as the good. He had to prove to her that he was willing and able to change that.

  An idea percolated in his mind. “Hey, Coop, do you still have the number of that ESPN reporter you dated for a hot second?”

  “I think so. Not that she’d want to hear from me. It didn’t end well.”

  “None of your relationships do.” Jace pulled his phone out of his pocket and slid it down the bar to Cooper. “But you’re not going to call her. I am.”

  “Why the hell would you do that?” Reid asked. “I thought you were trying win back your woman, not find a new one.”

  “Plus, dating a reporter is a monumentally bad idea.” Cooper grimaced and slugged his beer. “Trust me.”

  “I’m not going to date her.” Jace finished Macallan number two and signaled the bartender for the bill. “I’m going to give her the scoop of her lifetime.”

  18

  “YOU WANT ME to what?” Noelle mumbled through a mouth of Junior’s Raspberry Swirl cheesecake. It was true what they said about breakups leading to emotional eating. She was going to have to do some serious cardio to burn this latest indulgence off.

  “Turn. On. SportsCenter.” Holly overenunciated each word, like she was talking to her two-year-old.

  “Why?” The only person Noelle knew who’d be on a show like that was...

  “Jace is on.”

  “I repeat.” Noelle lifted another forkful of cheesecake to her mouth. “Why? It’s over. I’m not a masochist.”

  “You need to hear this. For once, listen to your older, wiser sister and turn on the goddamn television.”

  “Strong words.” Noelle put down the fork and reached for the remote control. Her sister clearly meant businesses. Holly almost never swore.

  “Have you got it on yet?” Holly asked. Noelle could almost hear her tapping her foot impatiently.

  “I’m trying, I’m trying.” She flicked through the channels, finally landing on Jace’s too-handsome face. Her heart lurched as she took in his familiar features. The piercing, brandy-brown eyes. The high cheekbones, surely the envy of many a supermodel. The strong jaw, dotted with stubble.

  Why did he have to look so darned good when she felt like shit?

  “So what’s next for Jace Monroe now that you’ve decided to retire?” asked the fresh-faced female reporter sitting across from him. “The broadcast booth? Behind the bench?”

  Retire?

  “I’ll be behind the bench, Sloane.” Jace smiled at the camera. “But not the bench you think.”

  “Does that mean you won’t be coaching for the Storm?” The reporter’s eyes widened and she nervously smoothed back her long, dark hair. “Not even in their farm system?”

  “I won’t be coaching in anyone’s farm system. I’m the new head coach for the Clover Hill Yellowjackets.”

  The reporter frowned. “I’m not familiar with that team. Are they in one of the semi-pro leagues?”

  “They’re in high school.” Did Jace just wink at the woman? Noelle fought back an irrational surge of jealousy. “In Brooklyn.”

  As quickly as it had bubbled up, the jealousy evaporated, replaced by disbelief.

  New York? Jace had left the majors t
o coach a bunch of high schoolers in her backyard? Why?

  “Why?” the reporter asked, echoing Noelle’s thoughts. “Why abandon your life in California to coach high school ball on the east coast?”

  Jace’s smile widened and his eyes got that I’ve-got-a-secret glint that she knew by now meant he was up to something. “I’m glad you asked that, Sloane. There’s two reasons. Two people, really, who I met when I was rehabbing my arm. The first is...”

  “Did you find the right channel?” Holly’s voice shrilled from the cell phone still in Noelle’s hand, drowning out the television. “Are you listening to this?”

  Noelle brought the phone back up to her ear. She’d forgotten she was still holding it.

  “I’m trying,” Noelle gritted out through clenched teeth. “But it would be easier if you weren’t screaming.”

  “He’s moving to New York. That must mean he’s...”

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Noelle swore softly.

  “What’s wrong?” Holly asked.

  “Someone’s at the damn door.” Whoever it was, one of her neighbors had probably buzzed them in. She’d have to remember to speak to the super about building security.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  “You have DVR. Pause the broadcast and get rid of them.”

  Duh.

  Noelle jabbed at the remote until the picture froze then stood and started for the door. “I’m hanging up. I’ll call you later.”

  “Better yet, call Jace. Then call me. I want all the dirty details.”

  “Fine.” Noelle reached for the knob and pulled the door open. “I’ll call him as soon as I...”

  Her voice trailed off as she drank in the familiar form standing before her, his broad shoulders filling the doorway.

  “Noelle?” Holly screeched through the phone. “Are you there?”

  Jace plucked the phone from Noelle’s hand. “She’ll call you back later. Much later.”

  He ended the call and held the phone out to her. She took it, heart pounding, a frisson of lust shooting through her when his fingers brushed hers.