by Lyssa Layne
I set my cup down and grab the bag of marshmallows. Mia stops messing with the graham crackers and smiles. She leans forward and lightly kisses me. “Sounds like a great memory.”
I nod and look down. “My granddad came to every game I played in the minor leagues and as many as he could when I started playing for Milwaukee.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “He passed away right after we won the Division Series in 2011.”
I hate getting choked up like this, but god, he was a good man. Mia doesn’t say a word, just reaches over and takes my hand in hers. The simple gesture is more comforting than any of the condolences I’ve received over the years. Pull it together, man!
Reaching for another bag to busy myself, I stop and look at Mia. “Reese’s?”
She nods with a grin. “Trust me, it’s way better than a Hershey bar. It’s pure ecstasy.”
Leaning forward, I kiss her neck, making her giggle. “Nah, I think this is pure ecstasy.”
Walking to the fire pit with roasters in hand, I stand behind her so I can nibble on her neck as we toast the ‘mallows. She tilts her head, giving me full access to her soft skin.
“Tell me more about your childhood,” she says.
Giving her one more kiss, I smile. She wants to know more about me which is such a turn on. Most women are only interested because of my athleticism, but not Mia. Sure, she may like my tight ass, but it’s not my status that she’s attracted to.
“I had a childhood dog named Penny, braces until I was in fourth grade, and never went to prom.”
“No prom? Hmm…I would’ve thought you were the prom king.”
I shake my head. “Nope, skipped it and just enjoyed the after-party festivities.”
She laughs and grabs a graham cracker. Carefully positioning the warm marshmallow between the cracker and the Reese’s, she slides it off and turns to me. With a quirked eyebrow, she asks, “Lose your virginity?”
She holds the s’more in front of my mouth waiting for an answer. My teeth clamp down over the treat as I lock eyes with her. “Mmm… ” I moan. She’s right, the Reese’s are delicious.
Grinning, she pulls the s’more back and takes a bite herself. Chocolate smears on her lip. I lean forward and run my tongue over it then close my mouth and suck her lip to get every last bit off. As she slips her tongue over mine, I can feel myself start to get hard and I moan into her mouth. Mumbling with my lips still against hers, I utter, “You’re right…ecstasy.”
Mia
On the couch by the fire pit, I’m cuddled up against Tate. I rest my head on his chest and can hear the steady rhythm of his heart and smell his Polo cologne. Closing my eyes, I enjoy this new found peace. I can honestly say, I’ve never been this relaxed during my entire time in California. Tate’s hand runs over my back, relaxing me even more.
“I wasn’t losing my virginity. It was already gone.”
I look up at him confused and he laughs. “Skipping prom.”
With a smile, I lay my head back down. “Not your first time then. Truth or dare.”
Tate laughs and his chest vibrates against my head. I snuggle closer as he says, “Why do I have a feeling either way will get me in trouble?”
Although I don’t want to move away from being so close to him, I sit up. Tate shakes his head and pulls me to him again. “No, no, no. Lay back down, you were perfect where you were. Truth.”
Snuggling back against him, I think it’s insane how in sync the two of us are. His arms pull me closer as I get comfortable again. “Okay, if prom wasn’t your first time, how old were you when you lost your virginity?”
Tate lets out a groan. “I knew you were going to ask that. Fourteen, she was sixteen. Coach’s daughter after practice one day.”
I laugh. “Typical. Truth.”
“Same question.”
I close my eyes, bringing back the memory. “Start of my senior year after my mom died. He was my best friend and I was going through a rebellious stage.”
Tate’s fingers run through my hair. “Rebellious stage, huh? I’ve been there and done that too.”
My eyes still flutter close and the day starts to catch up with me. My ex at the house, Tate loving his new home, safety…finally, after all these years, safe in a man’s arms. I yawn and Tate kisses my forehead. “Goodnight, beautiful.”
CHAPTER 8
Tate
Even with sunglasses shielding my eyes, I still squint from the glare off the batter’s helmet. He connects with the ball and my body easily twists to the side as I dive in front of the grass line and stop the ball. Spitting dirt out of my mouth, I hop up and throw the ball across the field.
“OUT!” the umpire yells.
The third baseman gives me a pat as he runs to the dugout. Slowly jogging behind him, I make my way off the field. Glancing into the stands one more time, I finally see her. My heart beats quickly at the sight of this beautiful woman I haven’t seen in a month, yet have heard her voice every day since I’ve met her.
We briefly make eye contact and she gives me a little wave. Grinning, I lift my chin in acknowledgement and move into the dugout. I fill my cup with cold water and take a long chug trying to cool off in this Arizona weather. I still haven’t quite found my niche with any of the guys on the team, although they all seem nice enough. My thoughts are distracted by a couple of rookies chattering. I shake my head, trying to remember that I was one of them long ago.
“Yeah, it’s her,” one of the new outfielders says.
“Are you sure? Why would she be here?” another new player asks.
“I don’t know, but look, here’s a pic. It’s her!” the first rookie replies.
My curiosity peaked, I glance in their direction where they’re staring at a picture of a sexy woman that’s in nothing but a pair of panties. She’s got long dark hair—what a minute! It’s Mia! I snatch the phone out of his hand and the kid starts to protest. He shuts up when I give him the death look.
“Who is this?” I demand.
He shrugs. “Amelia Tomko.”
My heart sinks. “Where did you find this picture?”
“On her website. She used to be a lingerie model, but it says that she’s retired now.”
The umpire calls the third out and I jog back on the field. Why didn’t she ever tell me that she used to model… half-naked? Does it really matter? Yes! What if kids see it? What does her father think of it? Do I want to be with someone who has men all over the country jerking off to her? Am I even with her? What exactly are we? We haven’t slept together, but we sure as hell act like a couple every other way possible.
Whoosh! I duck out of the way as a line drive flies inches away from my left ear. Shit, Tate, get it together. Don’t get out of your game because of her, she’s not worth your career. Lifting my cap and rubbing my forearm over my forehead, I shake my head knowing good and well that I’m lying.
I try to focus on the game at hand and not that incredibly, sexy—stop Tate, keep your head in the game. But I can’t, all I can picture is Mia in that photo and those rookies oogling over her. I’m so far off my game it isn’t even funny. Three innings later and my teammates are less than happy about the loss that was just handed to us.
In the locker room, I try to zone out and figure out how I’m going to approach this with Mia. I don’t want any other man looking at her the way those rookies did. I don’t want this to hurt our future. I shake my head, sweat dropping on my bare shoulders from my damp hair. I’m in way too deep with her already.
“I wonder if she ever did Playboy.”
“Google it and see if you can find a naked pic of her.”
Fuckin’ rookies! Clenching my fist, I bat the phone out of his hand breaking it into tiny pieces.
“What the fuck, James?” the puny outfielder yells at me.
“Show the woman some respect,” I say as I stare him down.
He’s pissed. His face is all red and scrunched up. That phone probably cost more than he got paid today. “You can�
�t fuckin’ break people’s shit,” he says, standing up and hovering over me.
God, like this day could get any worse. I stand up and eclipse him in size. Chest to chest, we stare eye-to-eye. “Respect her and I won’t do it again.”
“What, are you sleeping with her or something? If you are, I’m sure you’re not the only one. I mean, if she takes pictures like that then she probably gets around.”
It only takes a split second before I shove him into his locker. Hangers sway back and forth and make a loud crashing noise as they fall to the ground when he hits them. I grip his jersey in my hand and pull back my fist, but before I punch, I feel a hand grasp my fist. Spinning around to see who’s ganging up on me, I relax when I see Grant Adamson, the team’s new pitching coach.
Restraining me by the waist, he pulls me away from the rookie and into the training room. As soon as the door closes, I let out a string of expletives and punch the table in front of me. I do this a few more times until my blood pressure starts to come down.
Adamson just stands there until I finish my tantrum. “Well, that’s one way to get over a loss.”
“It’s spring training; losses don’t matter.”
He shrugs. “Then what made you go Evander Holyfield on the rookie?”
I shake my head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Grant raises an eyebrow. “If I had to guess, I’d say a woman.”
Lifting my head up quickly, my blood pressure starts to rise again. “Don’t you fuckin’ say one thing about Amelia Tomko because there’s no one here to stop me from giving you a beat down.”
Grant holds up his hands in surrender. “Wrong guy here and I don’t know who Amelia Tomko is unless you’re talking about the gorgeous woman in the stands that never took her eyes off you the entire game.”
I unclench the fist I’d made and lean against the table, trying to relax. “Yeah, that’d be her.”
Grant nods. “So, what’s the story?”
I stare at him, wondering if I can trust him. Back in Milwaukee I could talk to any infielder on the team and know it wouldn’t get out. I don’t know much about this guy other than he and Jace Richards, the Loyola alum who turned out to be scum, had a major rivalry. But hell, I don’t have anyone, and I need to vent before I see her, which will be sooner than later.
“I just met her last month, she’s my realtor. I thought we’d really connected, but apparently she has some secrets in her past.”
“Are they deal breakers?”
“I…I don’t know,” I answer, almost dumbfounded by his question.
“Then that’s a no. We’ve all got a past so give her the benefit of the doubt and move on.”
There’s more truth to that statement than Adamson knows.
Mia
I feel like a total groupie as I wait outside the stadium in the high Arizona temperatures. It’s hot. Really hot. Digging through my purse, I search for a ponytail holder with one hand while the other holds my hair off the nape of my neck. In a pair of jeans and a tank top, I’m doing my best to beat this Arizona heat.
Behind me, I hear a few whistles from men, but refuse to turn around. My face still flushes red, I hate that kind of attention. Out of nowhere, an arm slides around my waist and pushes me forward.
“Let’s go.” Tate’s voice is tight and raw. I’m happy to see him, but it’s hard to relax the way he sounds. He opens the door to his Ford F-350 and helps me inside. Before he closes the door, I recognize the pitching coach and the female trainer walking toward us.
“Hey, James, why don’t you and Mia join us for dinner?” the pitching coach suggests.
Tate glances up at me and I nod, letting him know it’s okay. Tate closes my door and I see the two men talk, their faces emotionless. Tate moves around the truck and gets in the driver’s side, turning on the engine without a word. We drive twenty minutes to an Italian restaurant that’s on a side street from the main drag. Tate still hasn’t said anything, much less hello.
I quickly get out of the truck before he can help me. I shake my long hair trying to get it off my back as I’m still sweaty. At least I shouldn’t be concerned if my makeup is running because it doesn’t look like this trip is headed anywhere toward a good time. Debating whether I should call a cab and head back to L.A. now or suffer through dinner, my thoughts are interrupted when the couple from the parking lot join us.
The female trainer introduces herself as Colie Adger and the pitching coach, her fiancé , as Grant Adamson. I’m totally jealous of Colie’s blonde hair and button nose. Linking her arm with mine, she walks us to the restaurant like we’ve been good friends our entire lives.
“That game was awful, wasn’t it?” Colie says with a roll of her eyes then lowers her voice. “Don’t bring it up, just act like you didn’t see it and hopefully their moods will get better.”
I nod and smile. “So that’s the baseball player’s girlfriend’s secret?”
Colie raises her eyebrow. “I didn’t know you and Tate were so serious…”
My face turns bright red and I shake my head quickly. “No, no…that’s not what I meant!”
Colie laughs at me as I try to recover and the men catch up to us. Grant slides his arm around Colie’s waist and gives her a kiss. “I guess Colie introduced herself?”
Colie playfully hits him as Grant acts like he’s hurt, rubbing his arm.
“She’s had too much testosterone and is ready for another female to discuss wedding details with.”
“Hey!” Colie extends her arm, hitting him in the gut this time and Grant laughs.
Tate stands beside me, but there’s still at least a foot between us and he hasn’t spoken a word other than, “Let’s go.”
The restaurant is dark with dim candles to set the mood. I can hear an Italian voice singing lightly over the speakers in the ceiling and the smell coming from the kitchen makes my stomach growl.
Colie laughs at the sound and says, “Let’s feed this lady. I’m just as hungry as she is.”
We all take a seat at our table. Thank goodness it’s not a booth because I’d hate to see what Tate would do if he accidentally made contact with me. As he sits down, he still refuses to meet my eyes. Trying to act a little more adult than him, I don’t react, but this is getting ridiculous. I’ll get through dinner then I’m headed back to the airport. I just got out of a relationship where I was treated like I was invisible so I don’t need another one.
Grants orders for all of us in Italian, impressing even Colie who showers him with kisses. Tate and I make awkward eye contact and quickly look away from each other. The kisses stop and Grant fiddles with Colie’s bracelet.
“So Mia, what do you do back in L.A.?” Colie asks.
“I’m in real estate. I’m a realtor, but I also flip houses with my business partner.”
Tate finally speaks, which is a relief until I comprehend his words. “What else do you do, Mia? Any side jobs you have?”
My stomach sinks when he asks this. I see Grant shoot Tate a warning look. Thank God the only light in this room is from the glow of the candle because my face must be three shades of red. My leg bounces lightly until the table starts to shake and I grab the candle to keep it from tipping over. Looking Tate square in the eyes, I ask, “What kind of side jobs do you mean?” Although I can tell he’s found out.
He raises his eyebrow. “One in front of a camera?”
Not backing down, I’ve done that too many other times in the past, I raise my eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“When you’re almost naked and half the team is getting off to you, hell yeah, I have a problem with it!” Tate yells and diners at the other tables turn to stare.
Tears prick at my eyes. In a low voice, I look at Grant and Colie apologetically. “I’m sorry about this. Thank you for the invitation to dinner, but I should probably go.”
Pushing my chair back quickly, I stand and bolt to the front door. Once outside, I pace back and forth trying to gather
myself as the tears rush down my cheeks. My chest heaves up and down and I try to focus on my breathing to slow it down. Once I can breathe without gasping, I pull out my phone to call a cab. As I wait, I decide to walk down a block in case Tate decides to come after me. Giving the call service the address, I hang up and laugh bitterly. He’s not coming after me.
I take a seat at the wooden bench and finally pull my hair into a high ponytail. Bringing my legs to my chest, I rest my chin on my knees. Sighing, I realize yet again I can’t pick men. The thought makes the tears come faster and I hide my head in my legs, trying to forget the past couple months.
“Mia! Fuck, are you okay?”
Lifting my head up, I wipe away the mascara streaks and see Tate standing in front of me. I quickly get to my feet, moving my hand to my hip. Motioning toward the restaurant, I answer, “Am I okay? I flew out here to see you and I didn’t even get a hug or a hello when you saw me. Instead you ushered me to the truck before anyone could see you with, gasp!, a lingerie model. Then you bring me to dinner with two total strangers that I’ve never met and embarrassed me. So no, Tate, I’m not okay.” My hands move around wildly as I speak, tears falling down my cheeks.
Instead of responding, Tate grabs me by the waist and pulls me to him. Our chests smash together and he fists my hair in his hand, looking into my eyes. “I’m an ass, Mia, I know it. I was completely out of line back there and I’m sorry. Please…forgive me.”
I easily want to honor his request, but I’m not sure I can handle another relationship like the one I just got out of. I close my eyes to think and I feel Tate’s lips press against mine. His kiss is urgent, he’s begging for my forgiveness. Hardly moving, I part my lips and feel his tongue roll over mine. The kiss gets stronger the longer we stand there, hands roaming over each other’s bodies until catcalls pull us back to reality.
Tate leans his forehead against mine. “Don’t let me act like that anymore, Mia. I need a woman like you who is strong and can tell me when to stop being an idiot.”
I laugh. Strong has not been a word used very often to describe me. Tate runs his finger over my bottom lip and if he’s like me, I know he’d rather be kissing than standing here on the sidewalk. He inhales deeply and slowly lets out his breath. “We both have a past and if we want this… relationship to go any further, it’s time we come clean with each other.”
