by Amy Noelle
“Dani!” The shock in his voice had me laughing uncontrollably.
“You asked for it.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”
Damn right I did. “Yes.”
“Okay, Red. Bring it.”
What followed was perhaps the dirtiest game of miniature golf known to man. At the next hole, he copped a feel of my breast, and my aim went far to the left. The round after that, I bent over just as he was starting to swing, and his eyes went down my shirt instead of on the ball. He swung hard, and the ball sailed past the hole. On my next turn, he lifted his shirt to dry off his non-sweaty brow, and my eyelids fluttered as I barely nicked the ball on my swing.
“You’re gonna need to try harder than that if you want to score,” he said, brushing my ass as he prepared for his shot.
We were tied heading into the last hole.
“Well, look at that. It appears to be . . . the anthill hole.” The glee in Brad’s voice was clear as day, and I scowled. It seemed so innocuous compared to the other holes. No windmill was waiting to swipe the ball away, no tricky rocks or ramps blocked the path. It was just an elevated hole to hit the ball dead center, or it would roll back down. I hated that hole.
“How about we play seventeen again?” I asked.
“Oh no, big talker. You’re playing the final hole. We need to crown a winner.”
“How about we call it a tie?” I said, giving him my sweetest smile.
“No way. To the victor go the spoils, and I plan on being very well spoiled.”
I shot him a look. “Just how do you intend to be spoiled?”
“Back rubs, foot rubs, making you my love slave for the next week—”
I elbowed him in the gut.
“What? I thought you’d enjoy that.”
I licked my lips. “I’ll have sex with you if we call it a tie right now.”
“Sex on the first date? Ms. Pierce, I am scandalized!” he shouted in his best imitation of a Southern woman. He fanned himself as if he had the vapors, and I doubled over laughing.
Once I’d recovered, I straightened and stared him down. “Take it or leave it, pal.”
“Well, it is a tempting offer.” He glanced between me and the anthill several times. “But I think I can get you in bed regardless, so we play through.”
Overconfident jerk. I glared as he lined up his shot. He sent the ball straight down the green, and it came to a halt within a foot of the hill. “I’ll just finish my shot so as to not be in your way.” And then, because he was an ass, he sent his ball up the hill with perfect speed, knocking it in the hole for a two. I scowled as he did a victory dance around the hole before fishing out his ball. “Your turn.”
I sighed as I put my ball on the divot and prepared for my usual loss. Before I could swing, Brad stepped behind me and pressed his body against mine, his hands joining mine on the putter. “It’s all about the touch.”
“I can’t think when you’re touching me.” Well, I could, but all I was thinking about was pushing him to the ground and having my way with him on the eighteenth green.
“Good. Don’t think. Just feel.” He was far too talented at making me do just that—forget to think and get caught up in the feeling of being with him. Before I knew what was happening, the putter was swinging and my ball was on its way toward the anthill. Unlike Brad’s, it didn’t stop a foot away. It went all the way up and fell into the hole.
“I won!”
His warm laugh rumbled through me. “It appears you did. How about that?”
I whirled around in his arms and gave him a smacking kiss. “I won! I am victorious! You lose!”
“Doesn’t feel like losing.”
I grinned. “Because I won.” I wiggled in his arms and he chuckled as he twirled me out and brought me back to him. “To the victor go the spoils,” I reminded him. “I believe you mentioned massages and love slavery.”
He chuckled and kissed me again. “So I did, but first we have other plans.” I sulked as he led me back into the clubhouse to return our putters. “What’s that face for?” he asked as he opened the car door for me.
“I want my spoils.” A massage sounded really good, actually. I’d been pretty damn tense waiting for his return, knowing we’d have to talk eventually and get our answers. At this point, I didn’t know what answer would be worse, that he’d cheated or that he hadn’t.
“I intend to spoil you as much as you’ll let me.” He smiled as he slipped into the car. “Do you still prefer turkey sandwiches?”
How well he still knew me. “Yes.”
“Good.” He pulled into a shopping center and stopped the car. “Wait here, okay?”
I nodded and watched as he climbed gracefully from the car and jogged into a deli. While he was gone, I breathed in the soapy scent he exuded, mixed with the smell of leather from the car. It was a beautiful day, and Brad returned with a cooler and set it in the trunk.
“Are we having a picnic?” I asked when he slid into the driver’s seat.
“You’ll see.” He kissed my hand and drove us out of the parking lot. We rolled the windows down, and I enjoyed the sun as the wind whipped my hair into a curling mess.
“I love the weather here.”
He laughed as he drove. “Isn’t it amazing? I was shocked when I moved here and could wear my uniform in eighty-degree weather without feeling like I’d sweat away my entire body weight.”
Yeah. As much as I loved Florida, I didn’t miss the humidity. “Do you ever think about home?” I asked, remembering how Alabama was just as steamy as Florida was.
“It’s not home anymore,” he said, his hands tensing on the steering wheel.
Shit. I was an idiot. I reached over and linked my fingers with his. “You haven’t gone back since . . .” I bit my lip, afraid to finish.
“No. No reason to.”
I didn’t argue, just squeezed his hand in support. We sat in companionable silence, listening to the radio for a while before Brad exited the highway. Salty air hit my nose, and I couldn’t contain a little squeal when I realized where we were going.
“The beach!”
Brad chuckled as he turned into a parking lot and killed the engine. “Still your favorite place?”
“Yes. I could never live far away from the water.”
“Me neither.”
I nearly mentioned his cold condo in the middle of the city but figured I’d better not.
“Let’s go,” he said.
I got out without waiting for him to open my door, anxious to feel the sand beneath my toes. Brad opened the trunk and got out a blanket and the cooler. I took the blanket from him and we made our way onto the beach. I had to admit, California had it over Florida when it came to the beach as well. White Florida sand on the Gulf was prettier, but California had real waves. The Pacific put the Atlantic to shame.
Unlike the nearly deserted mini-golf joint, the beach had quite a few people milling about, surfers in the water, sunbathers in barely there bikinis, kids making sandcastles. I smiled as I breathed in the salty air. Brad found us an open space and took the blanket from me before unfolding it as I kicked off my shoes and wiggled my toes in the sand.
I sat down on the blanket and turned my face up to the sun, letting it beat down on me. Brad laughed as he sat next to me. “I’ve never seen anybody enjoy the beach the way you do.”
I smiled, my eyes closed as the sun’s rays heated my skin. “It’s the best place in the world.”
“Well, I’m glad you think so. Let’s keep it that way.” I felt something cool on my face and opened my eyes to Brad’s fingers rubbing sunscreen onto my cheeks and forehead. “You said you still burn.”
I laughed and took the tube from him, rolling up my sleeves and rubbing some on my arms. His finger swiped across my lips and I made a face at him. “Lips can burn, too,” he said. “And I’ve got a vested interest in keeping yours soft.”
“We’ll see about that. I’m the vict
or, after all.”
He laughed as he opened the cooler and handed me my turkey sub and a dish with potato salad, along with a plastic fork.
“You’re pretty smooth, you know that?” I said.
Brad nodded, and I poked him as he pulled out his sub.
“Club?” I asked, showing I could remember his preferences just as easy as he could mine.
“Yep. And?” he prompted.
“Macaroni salad.”
“Very good.” Damn right I was. I remembered everything about him, even though I’d tried for years to forget.
While we ate, we were interrupted three times by people who recognized Brad. One was a fan who asked for an autograph on the Dodgers jersey he happened to be wearing, and two were from the bikini babe brigade who wanted to give Brad theirs, along with their phone numbers. I smiled and said polite hellos, though I may have fantasized about giant crabs biting their pedicured toes so they’d scream and run away. Brad smiled and told them he had a girlfriend, gesturing at me since I was apparently invisible.
“Girlfriend, huh?” I asked after they’d walked off casting longing looks his way. Somewhere down the beach, someone started a bonfire, and the pleasant smoky scent mixed with the sea and sand.
Brad turned on his side to face me, and I admired the way the setting sun glowed on his handsome face.
“I told you I was committed, Dani. Don’t you believe me?”
I ran my fingers through the sand and took a deep breath. “I want to. This is moving really fast. I came here thinking things would go one way, and they’re going completely the opposite of what I’d planned. It’s hard to get my head around.”
He reached over to still my restless hands and tugged me down next to him. “What did you think was going to happen?”
“I thought you’d flaunt your famous women, and I’d show you how much I didn’t care. I’d write my book about what a talented player you are, on and off the field, and go on my merry way while you’d realize how awesome I am and pine away for me forever.” I fought a smile when he burst out laughing. “It’s not funny.”
“Yes it is. Do you want to know what I thought would happen?”
I grimaced at the smug look on his face. “Probably exactly what did happen, since you always win.”
He chuckled and gave me a soft kiss before pulling away and cupping my cheek in his hand. “Sort of. I’d fully planned on seducing you, getting one more taste of you before walking away and putting you out of my head for good. But of course I couldn’t do that. One taste of you is never enough.”
I pondered his words for a few moments. “I should hate you for your plan, but I can’t.”
Brad snickered and put a finger on my nose. “And I should hate you for your plan, but I’ve never been able to hate you, not even when I told myself I did.”
I sighed and leaned into him. He rolled over to lie flat on his back, and I tucked my head into his neck. “Neither could I, and I tried really hard.”
“For once in my life, I’m glad I failed at something.”
“Me, too.” I blinked up at the few stars in the night sky. “Do you find yourself mixing up then and now?”
“What do you mean?” He trailed his fingers through my hair, and I shivered.
“You know, remembering how we were then, seeing how we are now. I get confused about it.”
“I don’t. I remember how we were, and some moments remind me of that time, but I see the differences, too. It’s just as easy to talk to you now as it was then, but you’re quicker to get pissed at me than you used to be.” I laughed, because that was true. “You feel the same, though your body is sexier. And you taste the same, but you’re not the same. You’re more guarded, harder to read, and you keep things from me.”
I sighed. “You do the same.”
“It takes time to build up trust, on both sides. I’m working on it.”
I lifted my head and looked down at him. He was warm and familiar and everything I’d once wanted and was starting to want again. “I’m working on it, too.”
“Good.”
I bent to kiss him, and he pulled me tightly against him as our tongues moved together. “Brad,” I whispered after we broke apart. I lay my head back against his shoulder and draped my leg over his.
“Hmm?”
“I’m committed, too.” Maybe we both should be committed for trying again. It might have been insane, but it felt right.
His fingers flexed against my back. “I can’t promise we’ll get a lot of nights like this, because of baseball, but I’ll try to give them to you whenever I can.”
I lifted my head again. “I know you’re busy. I don’t expect this again.”
“But you deserve it. And baseball drove you away before, so . . .”
“No. My stupidity drove me away before. I like to think I’m smarter now. We already have more than I expected. Let’s not try to find problems where there aren’t any, okay?”
“If you’re sure.”
He sounded tense, and I couldn’t have that. I sat up and tugged him into a sitting position.
“What are you doing?” he asked when I slid behind him.
“Giving you that massage.” I dug my fingers into his strong shoulders, and he let out a low moan that went straight to my girlie parts.
“But you won, so I owe you.”
I kissed his neck as I worked on his shoulder blades. “It looks like we both won. And I intend to collect my winnings later.”
He relaxed into my touch. “I like tie games.”
I giggled. “That’s a first.”
Brad reached into the cooler and pulled out something I couldn’t quite make out. “To lots of new, amazing firsts.” He passed me a cold bottle and I took a swig, champagne bubbling in my mouth.
“New beginnings,” I murmured, thinking of my daffodils. I passed the bottle back and Brad took his own sip as I massaged his back again, happy to have my hands on him.
“I like that.” He put the bottle down, turned, and pinned me to the blanket. “I like you.”
I laughed. “I think I like you, too.” I knew I did.
“I’ll take it, for now.”
Chapter 19
Old was new, black was white, and baseball was king again. I found myself sitting in the stands the next evening, in a slightly different spot than I’d had on opening day. I was sitting with the families, wives, and girlfriends of the players. It felt familiar but different, just like everything Bradley-Reynolds-related felt these days.
Last night we’d stayed on the beach until it got too cool for comfort, so Brad had taken me back to my hotel and warmed me up in the best way. My muscles were singing again today. Sex was a far more interesting workout than the treadmill.
“JD said something’s up with Brad.”
I couldn’t help it. At the mention of Brad’s name, my ears perked up.
“Something’s always up with Brad,” another female voice said in a way that made me want to punch her. “Unfortunately not for me.”
“You’re just pissed because he turned you down.”
“Well, seriously, who turns this down?” I didn’t turn around, even though I was dying to see what this looked like.
“Brad doesn’t hook up with married women.”
I was glad to hear he’d kept some standards even while screwing half of California. Okay, maybe I still had a few issues with how he’d been living his life, even if it wasn’t my place to judge. It may have been my fault, for all I knew.
The woman behind me huffed. “I don’t believe that. He just turned me down because of Eli.”
“Well, it would be awkward since they’re teammates.”
“Like Eli cares? One of his little tramps called the house line the other night. I ripped him a new one.”
Was it odd that she seemed to care more about the woman having called the house than having done her husband? I’d never understand that mentality, and Brad damn well knew better than to expect me to.
He did have a girlfriend. Again. And she was me. Again. Things were back the way they should be. I still felt nervous, but it was a good kind of nervous, like the kind I felt each time one of my books came out. Nervous and scared but excited, too.
“That chick from the pictures? He could do better.”
I wanted to turn around and punch her in her loud mouth.
“I don’t know, Linda. He seems happy, and JD’s thrilled. He said Brad’s not riding all their asses as hard as usual.”
“Mmm, I’d like him to ride mine hard.”
I was just about to whirl around when someone tapped me on the shoulder. “Excuse me, Miss?”
I turned and tried to work up a smile for the attendant at my side. Was I in the wrong seat? That would be embarrassing. “Yes?”
“Mr. Reynolds asked me to bring you this.” He held out a baseball and I snatched it out of his hand before I could stop myself, anxious to see if the old was going to collide with the new again.
“Thank you.”
He blinked in surprise and nodded as I studied the ball, rolled it in my fingers, and found the writing on the other side.
You’re the most beautiful woman in the stadium.
Oh, hell. I felt tears sting my eyes and bit my lip hard to try to drive them away. He remembered. Of course he did. And somehow he’d known what I needed without being anywhere nearby to hear what those women were saying about him, about me.
I looked onto the field and found him standing at the fence, an expectant look on his face. I was up and out of my seat, headed his way, before my brain even gave my feet the order to move.
He grinned and cocked an eyebrow as I was stopped by the usher. “You can’t go down there without a ticket.”
“She’s okay, Marco,” Brad called. Marco stepped aside and I hurried down the remaining steps, completely ignoring the fans clamoring to get him to sign their balls and programs.
“Let my girl through, please,” he said, his eyes on only me. “I need my good-luck kiss before the game.”
