Coming Back To You

by Lynne, Donya

  Karma grabbed her mitt and jogged out to right field. The testosterone coming off Mark and Brad was almost like another player. Hopefully neither of them would do anything stupid. Such as actually whip out their penises and argue about which was bigger.

  The first batter for the other team knocked a hit into left field, which Jasper caught for an out, but the second batter looked like a pro. What were these sports med guys doing playing in the slow-pitch league? They looked like minor leaguers.

  He hit a grounder right toward Brad. He scooped it up and tossed it toward first base, but not before the runner was called safe. The next batter popped one into center field, which sailed over Lisa’s head. By the time she retrieved it and threw it toward second, the first runner was rounding for home. Mark reached to catch the ball, but Brad jumped in front of him to catch it instead.

  What the hell?

  Mark flung out his arms in obvious exasperation as Brad turned, adjusted, and threw the ball toward home plate. But he couldn’t get the ball there fast enough. The other team scored while the runner rounded second to third.

  “What the hell was that?” Mark shouted. “I could have gotten two outs.”

  Brad shrugged as if he didn’t care then bent and rested his hands on his knees in anticipation of the next hit.

  This was a side of Brad Karma had never seen. It was one thing to be competitive and to want to show Mark who she belonged to, but what he’d done just now had cost them not only a run, but also an out. Mark was justifiably upset, as were the rest of the members on the team.

  “Shake it off!” she yelled. “Come on, shake it off. We’ll get the next one.”

  The next hit beamed straight for Mark. Easy out. Except…Brad ran for the ball.

  No, Brad! No! Karma cringed and threw her hands in the air as if that would be enough to make Brad stop. No such luck.

  Brad flung himself toward the ball. It grazed the front of his mitt, deflecting away from both him and Mark.

  Mark rushed after it, leaving second base uncovered, which meant Brad should have covered the base. When Mark jumped around to throw him the ball, Brad had returned to shortstop. Mark had to double clutch and dart back to the base, but not before the runner got there first.

  Appearing frustrated, Mark shot her an exasperated glance as if this was all her fault then tossed the ball back to the pitcher.

  God, this was turning into a nightmare. Brad was behaving like a six-year-old, and from the frustrated expression on Mark’s face, he was only just barely holding his tongue.

  Somehow, they managed to get three outs, but not before the other team scored five runs.

  At the bench, she quickly pulled Brad aside. “What was that all about?” she whispered hotly, pointing toward the field.

  He scowled and turned away. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? You cost us at least three runs, Brad. At least.”

  “I don’t like that guy.” He glowered at Mark, who was sitting on the bench, drinking from his water bottle.

  “What?” Karma tried to sound confused even though she knew exactly what Brad meant. “You just met him.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t like how he looks at you.”

  Karma pulled back. “How he looks at me?”

  “Yeah. He looks at you like he owns you.”

  She forced herself to laugh. “You’re imagining things.” She had never known Brad to be the jealous type, but here he was, wigged-out over another man. Yes, she and Mark had a history with one another, but she had made her choice, and her choice was Brad. Seeing him so jealous was unnerving.

  “Am I?” Brad gave her a hard look then marched past her to warm up. He was next in the batting lineup.

  She plopped onto the bench.

  “Your boyfriend needs to learn how to play ball,” Mark said under his breath.

  “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my fiancé, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember, but he still needs to learn how to play.”

  She glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. “What he needs is for you to stop showing your ass.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you.” She glared at him. “You and your macho bullshit. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

  “Hey, I’m just here to play ball.”

  “Then play and quit trying to wave your dick in Brad’s face. I’m with him now. Him. Not you. I’ve made my choice. And you…aren’t…it.” She pushed off the bench and left him to stew on her words while she grabbed her favorite bat and took a few practice swings.

  For four more innings, nothing further was said about Brad’s incompetent playing, but he did begin to play more sensibly. Karma took her place in right field and chattered at the batter with her teammates.

  “Hey batter, batter, batter…swiiiing batter!”

  And swing he did, dinging one into right field, straight for her. That’s what she got for taunting. The hit wasn’t just a pop fly. It was more like an arcing missile. She ran up on the ball but couldn’t get to it in time. It hit the ground and bounced like a laser-guided bullet right toward her face. She saw the damn thing coming but couldn’t duck in time, taking a hit right in the eye.

  Pop!

  She flew backward and fell, covering the left side of her face with her mitt as pain erupted in her cheek and nose. She rolled to her side in the grass, instinctively shielding her injury from further harm.

  “Karma!” It was Mark’s voice.

  Within seconds, the rest of the team surrounded her, abandoning the ball and letting the other team score.

  “Are you okay?”

  She blinked through stinging tears at Mark’s concerned face. Genuine worry coated his expression.

  “Karma? Hey, you all right?” Brad practically shoved Mark out of the way and took her hand.

  Mark took off for the sidelines, and Jasper called an injury time-out.

  “Yes. I think so. Just…hurts.” It felt like her face was swelling and pain throbbed like a heartbeat in her cheek.

  “You took quite a hit.” Brad helped her up, wrapped his arm around her waist, and led her toward the bench.

  Mark approached holding a cold pack from the team’s first aid kit. “Here. Put this on your eye.”

  She took the pack and pressed it against her tender face, wincing.

  “You should go to the hospital.” Mark reached for her arm.

  Brad knocked his hand away. “Don’t be silly. She’s fine. Right?” He turned toward her. “You’re fine. Just a little bump.”

  Mark frowned. “She could have a concussion or a broken nose.” Anger splashed over his words. “She needs to get checked out.”

  Brad ignored him and guided her to the bench.

  “How’s it look?” She lowered her mitt to reveal the battered side of her face.

  Brad blinked and raised his eyebrows. “Well…”

  “Like you need to go to the hospital,” Mark said, kneeling in front of her.

  Brad huffed. “She doesn’t need to go to the hospital. It’s just a little black eye.”

  Mark scowled at Brad, shaking his head. “It might be, but it’d be better to find out for sure.”

  Brad was probably right. It was probably just a black eye. But Mark was also right. He was clearly worried. Did her face really look that bad?

  “Let me take care of my own fiancée, Mark,” Brad said, glaring. “I think I’ve got this.”

  Karma needed to defuse the situation. She held up her free hand between them. “If it gets worse, I’ll go to the hospital, okay?” She glanced from Brad to Mark and back again. “But I think I’ll be okay. It’s just a little bruise.”

  Mark glanced from Brad to Karma. What appeared to be frustration mixed with hopelessness crossed his face, and then he grabbed his mitt and stood. With his jaw clenched, he backed away then tore his gaze from hers and returned to the field.

  Brad scowled after him then returned his gaze to Karma’s as he placed his hand over hers
on the ice pack. “It looks fine. A little swollen. You’ll probably have a black eye. But you’re still sexy.”

  Sexy? How could a swollen, blackening eye be sexy? Really, Brad shouldn’t try so hard to one-up Mark. The machismo didn’t look good on him.

  “Can you play?” Jasper asked.

  “Of course she can’t play,” Brad said. “Look at her eye.”

  She pushed out of Brad’s hold. She didn’t need him speaking for her. “I’m fine. We’ve only got a couple more innings. I can play.” She turned toward Brad. “You can nurse me after the game.”

  The injury really wasn’t all that bad. Her pride was more bruised than her face, which probably looked worse than it felt. But hey, if she played her cards right and milked her battle wound and Brad’s guilt for all they were worth, she might be able to cash in on a rain check or two tonight.

  Chapter 21

  Karma sat beside Brad at the Stacked Pickle an hour later, a half-eaten burger and fries in front of her and a Ziploc bag of ice wrapped in a towel pressed to her cheek. Half the team, as well as most of the players on the opposing team, had stopped in after the game for food and drinks.

  Brad stuck to her side like glue. Apparently, he didn’t want to leave her alone where big bad Mark could swoop in and steal her away. The attention was nice but left Karma a little discombobulated. She’d gotten used to Brad’s standoffish, I-don’t-like-displays-of-public-affection demeanor, and now she had to shift gears to keep up with his change in direction.

  But he really needn’t have worried about Mark. He’d taken up flirting with a lean, busty brunette from the other team. They were sitting together at the next table over, laughing and sitting much too closely to one another. The brunette reminded her of the woman in the picture with Mark on New Year’s Eve.

  What did he see in that woman? Her boobs were obviously fake, her skin tanned from a can, and her laughter sounded like something forced through an exhaust pipe. It was more like a cackle than a laugh. And apparently Mark was the newest comedic sensation to hit the circuit from the way that woman cackled nonstop.

  But she was a looker.

  Maybe Karma shouldn’t have been so quick to shove Brad in Mark’s face. Seeing him with that woman was as painful as being popped in the eye, especially when he paid the bill, stood, placed his hand at the small of the woman’s back, and guided her toward the exit.

  “How’s your eye?” Brad asked a couple minutes later as he removed his arm from around her shoulders.

  Now that the enemy was gone, Brad could loosen his guard.

  And she’d just started to enjoy the attention.

  “Better.” She’d gotten a look at her new shiner in the ladies room earlier. The swelling felt like it was going down, but she had a feeling when she woke up in the morning, that thing was gonna hurt like a bitch. Or a slap in the face, which was what had just walked out the door. But hey, maybe the black eye would keep Jade from being a total drag on their trip to the zoo. Then again, Jade was more likely to ask who’d given it to her so she could send a thank-you note.

  Which reminded Karma she needed to get up early in the morning to make a batch of truffles. She really wanted to get along with Jade, and what better way than through a peace offering of chocolate? After all, what girl didn’t like chocolate?

  One who is trying out for the part of the Wicked Witch of the West.

  Now, now. She needed to stop thinking that way. Jade was just a troubled little girl. Once she realized Karma was an okay gal with a big heart who knew how to make truffles, everything would work out fine. Positive thinking here.

  “You ready to go?” Brad asked a few minutes later.

  “Absolutely.” She shifted the ice pack on her face and let Brad help her to her feet.

  Thankfully, Mark and his ho were gone by the time they reached the parking lot.

  “What’s with that guy? Mark?” Brad asked on the drive home.

  “What do you mean?” And here she thought they’d put the softball debacle behind them.

  “The way he looks at you…I don’t like it.”

  “Which you made perfectly clear tonight.” She gave him a contemptuous sidelong glance at a stoplight.

  “Is something going on between the two of you?”

  “Brad! Absolutely not.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” She ran her hand along his thigh, hoping to distract him from his current train of thought. The way his gaze dropped quickly to his lap then back up at the road showed her plan was working. Her hand settled between his legs and his chest rose heavily as he inhaled. “Are you jealous?” She smiled and leaned across the seat so she could kiss the side of his neck.

  “No,” he said a little too quickly. Then he sighed. “Okay, maybe.”

  “Don’t be. I’m with you. I’m wearing your ring. Nothing’s going on between me and my boss.” But it wouldn’t take much for there to be, which made it that much more important that she get her résumé updated this weekend and start sending it out. She kissed his neck again and felt the bulge beneath her hand grow. “I never knew you were the jealous type.”

  “Me, neither.” He pulled up to her apartment building and shut off the engine. “I’ve been neglecting you lately, haven’t I?”

  It had been three weeks since they’d had sex.

  “You’ve been busy.”

  He turned and kissed her. “Let me make it up to you.”

  “You wanna come up?” Her alter ego eagerly waved a whole stack of rain checks in her mind.

  Without answering, he got out and joined her by the passenger door then followed her inside.

  Once in her apartment, he eased his arms around her waist, and for the briefest of moments, Karma almost pushed him away and told him to leave. Suddenly, Brad’s touch felt all wrong. Too stiff, not passionate or gentle enough.

  Not Mark enough.

  Instead, she let him kiss her…let him prod her toward the bedroom.

  All the while, she was cringing inside. She couldn’t win for losing. For weeks, all she’d wanted was for Brad to fuck her silly, and now that it looked like she was getting her wish, it was the last thing she wanted. Sure, Brad’s definition of fucking her silly was tame compared to hers—and Mark’s—but she still enjoyed it. Or, rather, she used to.

  Was her reluctance because of how he’d acted at the game? Toward Mark? Or was her reluctance caused by weeks of resentment over him choosing work over her?

  Or was there something more profound at work here. Maybe her reticence had nothing to do with Brad’s behavior at all. Perhaps she simply no longer wanted to be in denial and subconsciously recognized that Brad was just that. A mechanism of denial she’d clung to far too long. That possibility scared her, so she quickly abandoned it and forced herself back in the moment, where Brad’s arms pulled her closer and his lips brushed over hers.

  She had wanted this for weeks. She had wanted him to pay her some attention and take her to bed, only to be put off time and again. But now that she was getting exactly what she wanted—or thought she wanted—she no longer wanted it.

  “I have an idea,” she said, pulling away.

  Brad pulled off his T-shirt. “What’s that?”

  “Let’s play a game.”

  His face scrunched. “A game? What kind of game?”

  She rushed into her exercise room, grabbed the Truth or Dare game from behind the books in her bookcase, and hurried back to her bedroom.

  He took one look at the name on the box and frowned. “Truth or Dare?” He didn’t sound too keen on the idea.

  “Yes. You’ll love it. I promise.” She opened the box and explained the rules. “You pick a card, I tell you truth or dare, and then you read whichever one I choose. Then I do the same to you.”

  “I don’t know, Karma…”

  “Oh, come on.”

  He sighed. “Okay, fine.” He sat down on the bed, and Karma swirled the cards go fish-style, facedown, on the comforter between t
hem.

  “I’ll go first.” She picked up a card. “Truth or dare?”

  “Truth, I guess.” He didn’t sound as into the game as she had hoped.

  She read the question. “What is the most you’ve ever masturbated in a single day?”

  “What?” He blew out a frustrated breath. “Really? I’m supposed to answer that?”

  “You have to. You chose truth.”

  He scratched his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, Karma. Maybe two or three times. I really can’t remember.”

  Lame answer. But at least he answered. That was a good sign, right? “Okay, your turn.” She set the card aside.

  Brad tentatively pulled one from the pile. “Truth or dare?” He exhaled heavily, face drawn. Then his eyebrows furrowed as he read the two questions to himself.

  “Truth.”

  Another sigh, then, “Describe my in-bed personality in three words.” Something that looked a bit like insecurity flashed across his face.

  He had reason to fear. The three words that immediately came to mind were tame, boring, and creatively lacking. She couldn’t very well spill those to him, though, or he’d go into a sexual coma and she would be lucky if he ever made love to her again. Instead, she took this as an opportunity to show him how the game was supposed to be played.

  Shifting to all fours, she crawled toward him and slid her mouth up to his ear. “Hot, sexy, and exciting,” she whispered in her most seductive voice.

  When she pulled away, his face was red, and he wore a self-conscious grin. “That was sweet.”

  “Just the truth.” She picked up another card, feeling like a cad for lying. “My turn. Truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  She really wanted him to say dare, but oh well. “Would you rather cuddle post-sex or jump in a hot shower together?”

  Brad never did either, so his answer could give her a clue about how she could navigate their post-sexual activities in the future.

  He shrugged and glanced away. “Shower, I guess. But I’d really rather just sleep.”

  “That’s it?” The longer they played, the more she simply wanted to go to sleep herself. That wasn’t how this game was intended to work. She was supposed to be getting hotter, not bored.