Over the Fence: Lyssa Layne's Baseball Romances

by Lyssa Layne

  Through my sunglasses, I read my ticket stub and walk to my seat ten rows behind home plate. As I take the steps, Tate runs onto the field and I pause to watch his athletic body bend and stretch, showing off his fine backside. Good God, I love baseball pants, I think to myself and laugh. My thoughts are broken when I hear someone call my name.

  “Amelia, what are you doing here?”

  My smile fades and my blood runs cold. Slowly turning, sitting beside my empty seat is a tall, dark, and handsome man in pressed khaki pants, a baby blue button-up displaying a peek at his defined chest, and matching boat shoes. He stands and moves to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my cheek.

  I’m so shocked I can’t even move, but somehow I find a way to ask, “Asher, what are you doing here?”

  CHAPTER 14

  Mia

  My ex-husband guides us to our seats, his hand resting in the small of my back. My body betrays me again as it gets excited by his touch. Taking a seat beside him, his hand rests on my thigh and his eyes follow the plunging neckline of my royal blue maxi dress. From the look in his eyes, I can tell the dress I’d worn for Tate is having my desired effect on Asher.

  His lips brush across my bare shoulder and in a sultry whisper, he says, “This dress is amazing on you.”

  My cheeks burn red as my eyes search for Tate on the field and I try to figure out how to get as far away from both men as possible. If Tate sees us, he’ll get the wrong idea, but at the same time, I’m afraid of how Asher will react when he finds out about Tate and me. My mind races through excuses and lies to tell both of them.

  He clears his throat. “Amelia, did you hear me?” His index finger walks across my shoulder and goosebumps pop up on my arm. He loops a finger through the strap of the dress and tugs on it slightly, pulling it off my shoulder.

  With a slight twist, I pull away from him and nod. “Thank you,” I manage to say as I stand up. Asher looks up at me confused and I begin to ramble. “I need to…” I point toward the inside of the ballpark. “Bathroom…I’ll be back.”

  Before he can say anything, I skip up the steps and into the safety of the crowd bustling around me. I aimlessly walk through the throngs of people. The smell of hot dogs fill the air and I think I might be sick. Making a mad rush to the bathroom, I get in line behind three other women.

  “You know the new shortstop? Tate James?” a brunette college-age girl asks her friend.

  A taller brunette nods. “Yeah, he’s a total hottie.”

  My heart increases speed and I start to feel lightheaded.

  “New in town too, but I heard he’s dating someone.”

  The first girl frowns and changes the subject. My heart begins to slow down and I smile about the rumor until I’m reminded of my seatmate. I step out of line and walk to a sink to splash cold water on my face. Looking in the mirror, I take a deep breath as I give myself a pep talk and prepare to return to my seat.

  Walking into the corridor, I make my way through the walkway lined by concession stands. I start to text Colie a message to pass on to Tate as I know he won’t have his phone on him. Not paying attention to where I’m going, I run into a brick wall of muscle.

  Looking up, I see a large drunken fraternity boy grinning down at me. He slides his arm around me and winks. Beer on his breath, he says, “Hey honey, need some Moose tonight?”

  I cringe at the stench from his mouth as much as I do at the pick-up line. His buddies laugh and Moose squeezes me tighter until one of the guy’s jaw drops open.

  “Ho…ly…sh…it. It’s Amelia Tomko!” one of them exclaims.

  My body goes rigid under the weight of Moose’s arm while my face turns crimson. The college boys are quick to get their phones out and snap pictures all while making perverse comments at the same time. I try to wiggle out of the headlock I’m in, but Moose doesn’t let loose.

  “Well, Miss Tomko, why don’t we buy you a beer?” He leans in, his lips pursed and ready for a kiss. Behind us, I hear a man clear his throat. I try to take a step away from Moose, but run into his buddy. By now, they have me boxed in and when I feel one of their hands run across my naked shoulder blades, panic kicks in.

  “Please let me go,” I plead as my breathing quickens and my body begins to shake.

  “We just want to have fun, Amelia,” Moose says, slurring his words.

  I shove against him as hard as I can and the men laugh at my attempt. Both of them take two steps closer, making it impossible for me to move.

  “Let go of my wife.”

  I’ve never been more happy to be called his wife as I am in this moment. The college kids turn toward Asher who calmly reaches for me and I grasp on to him like a lifeline. He pulls me behind him protectively and steps to my predators, speaking in a low tone that I can’t hear. From the expression on their faces though, I doubt they’ll be messing with a woman for a long time.

  Asher turns to me and draws me into a hug. My body still shaking, I wrap my arms around him and fight the urge to cry. After holding me for a few seconds, he leans me back and looks into my face. “Is my Amelia alright?”

  I wipe away the silent tears and nod. He smiles and kisses my forehead before taking my hand and leading us back to our seats. The game has already started by the time we get settled. Asher rests his arm on my seat behind me. Taking precaution, I lean away from Asher discreetly.

  Still shaken from the incident, I want Tate. No, I need him. I need to feel his arms around me. I need to feel safe and comforted and the only place I feel that is in his arms. I sigh and take a sip of Asher’s beer to relax.

  He laughs and pats my leg. “We can leave, Amelia, if that would make you feel better.”

  Tate runs off the field after the last out, glancing up at me with a small smile. I nod my head, not taking my eyes off him until he disappears into the dugout. Turning to Asher, I ask, “What are you doing here?”

  “James and I played ball together at Loyola.”

  My heart sinks.

  “I gave him your name since I was out of town that week. I’m glad you were able to find him something although I think you could have upsold him more.”

  Thoughts fly through my head faster than I can catch them. Tate and Asher know each other. This is much worse than I thought. Tonight is going to end badly. Picking up Asher’s beer, I polish it off. Without a word, he orders us two more from a vendor passing by.

  Six innings and two beers later, I’ve forgotten about the run-in with the frat boys. The game is tied three-three and Tate’s seen a lot of action in his number six position. The old familiar ease that Asher and I have always shared over baseball has returned. Only two more innings and I could actually save face in this situation, let Tate know the truth before he finds out on his own.

  The organ blares over the loudspeaker as the crowd stands up for the seventh inning stretch. Asher and I both rise from our chairs as the stadium erupts into Take Me Out to the Ballgame. He leans his arm against mine swaying as he sings along in my ear. The smell of hops on his warm breath takes me back to a time before he was so possessive and controlling. A time when we were both recent college graduates, working where ever we could just to make ends meet, but not caring at all because we had each other and that’s all that mattered at the time.

  A smile graces my lips as he gets louder on purpose, knowing it embarrasses me and I hate drawing attention. Turning slightly, I laugh putting one hand on his chest and a finger to his lips. I make a sshhing noise and giggle at his antics.

  His body presses against mine as his hands move to my hips and we lean back and forth to the music. I sing along with the man I fell in love with, not the man I divorced. The fans draw out the last word of the song and Asher looks into my eyes. Quickly, his hands slide over the back of my dress to my thighs as his lips press against mine. For a brief second, my lips purse and return the gesture, but then I press my hands against his chest, pushing him away.

  Around us, everyone is sitting back down and one
drunk man hoots and hollers at us. Asher grins and takes his seat, pulling my hand to follow. His arm moves to the back of my chair, but this time, his hand drapes on my shoulders, pulling me toward him. My eyes instantaneously dart over the field for Tate and when I find him, my stomach sinks.

  CRACK! Tate doesn’t move as the ball is hit in his direction. His eyes are locked on mine and I don’t know if it’s shock, disappointment, or anger that I detect in his face. No matter what it is, I never want to see it again. My whole body starts to shake and I need to talk to Tate. I can explain everything. Asher and I are divorced. He kissed me, it’ll all be okay…right? It’ll all be okay?

  CHAPTER 15

  Tate

  Walking through the bar, I miss the smoky atmosphere at my regular hang out back in Milwaukee. Damn Los Angeleans and their health kicks! I hang my head trying to avoid anyone recognizing me since I missed the final out causing us to lose our home opener. After the horrible game, I wanted to go home, but my old buddy insisted I meet up with him and his wife for a drink. This day can’t get any worse.

  Arriving at the table, I nod my hello to the happy couple who are curled up in the corner. The low neckline of her dress makes me want to yank her out of the booth and throw her over my shoulder to have my way with her. Judging from the way Asher can’t keep his hands off her, I realize I’m not the only one that feels that way. His arm is draped over Mia’s shoulders as his lips skim her skin and he enjoys the view of her cleavage.

  “Hey Tate!” Asher says, holding out his hand for me to shake. I firmly grasp his hand in mine but it takes all of my self-control to not crush it. I can’t even look in Mia’s direction. If I do, I won’t be responsible for my actions.

  “You’ve met Amelia, my wife. Thanks for the tickets tonight. It’s been too long since we’ve gone to a game.”

  Both of my hands roll into balls and my jaw clenches at his statement. So let me get this right, Asher cheats on Mia with random women while Mia cheats on him with me. Fuck, I’m an idiot. I shake my head as I slide into the booth, forced to sit by the woman with the scarlet letter. I knew better than to get involved with her or any other woman. I should just follow my same rules I had back home. Have fun, but don’t get into anything serious.

  I glance at Mia, but the sight of her grey eyes with the puppy dog look makes me avert my gaze immediately. The waitress takes my order and I turn to my old college teammate ready for some answers to the millions of questions filling my mind.

  “So how long have you two been married?”

  Mia speaks quickly, her voice sounding higher with the nervousness in it. “We’re not. We’ve been divorced almost two years.”

  I narrow my eyes at her as she looks at me with a pleading look in her face. Asher’s hand slides to Mia’s thigh. “True, but you can’t deny true love. Can you, Amelia?”

  Asher leans in for a kiss, but Mia pulls away before his lips reach hers. Her bare back presses against my chest as she leans away from him and my pulse races with her close proximity. I take a deep breath and smell her sweet scent of Dolce & Gabbana perfume. Vanilla and grapefruit fill my nose and I want to place a kiss tenderly under her ear, but Asher’s voice reminds me that she’s spoken for.

  “Sweetheart, why don’t you go get us another drink?”

  We both know he’s just trying to get rid of her since the waitress will be back any minute. I slide out of the booth, offering my hand to help her out. Her delicate hand squeezes against my calloused one and she looks into my eyes. I see that same begging look in her face, but force myself to look away. Asher and I both watch her walking toward the bar, pain filling my heart while his grin gets larger at each sway of her hips.

  “What the hell, Tommy? You and Mia have different last names?” I ask, unable to keep it in anymore and needing answers.

  He leans back smirking and sips his martini. “Nah, same last name. I took her surname when we got married. Unconventional, I know, but we were trying to start our business and Thompson just blended in too much. It was one of the best business decisions I’ve ever made.”

  Back in college, Asher’s last name was Thompson. He’s right. It was a common name. We had three different Thompsons on the team which is how he got the nickname Tommy.

  I laugh and shake my head. “So Mia wears the pants in this relationship?”

  His smirk fades but is quickly replaced by a mischievous grin. “Not hardly, I have her wrapped around my finger so tight, she’d do anything I told her to. She’s just the pretty face to our business, second best thing I did.”

  My blood pressure skyrockets as he says this. I find it hard to believe that independent Mia would take orders from anyone. My beer arrives and I chug half of it in one gulp.

  “So you have this woman, who is not only beautiful but smart and ambitious, and yet you go sleeping around behind her back?”

  Asher shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a wanted man.”

  I shake my head, disgusted. Peeling the label off my bottle, I ask, “So what’s the deal with the marriage? You say you are, Mia says you’re not…”

  Asher raises an eyebrow, looking at me. “Why are you so intrigued by my relationship with Amelia?”

  Any other man and I would have told him the truth, but the threatening look in his eyes and Mia’s face from earlier has me thinking I should be careful how I answer. I shrug it off and point to a blonde at the bar. Asher’s grin returns and the question is dropped.

  Mia

  Balancing two shots of whiskey and a dry martini with three olives, I make my way back to the table when I see Asher rush to the bar to flirt with the blonde on stilts. Tate looks defeated in the booth by himself and I’m sure it’s not just today’s loss that’s contributed to his feelings. Once I talk to him, though, I’m sure he’ll cheer up.

  I push one shot glass across the table and slide in beside him with the other. He glances up and shakes his head with a huff. I frown and hold up the glass, waiting for him to follow suit. Reluctantly, he does.

  I smile and move my hand to his thigh. “To old friends and making new ones.”

  Tate downs the alcohol without saying a word. I set my full shot glass on the table and squeeze his leg. “Talk to me, Tate.”

  “It’s better that I don’t.”

  I frown and slide my hand up and down his leg. “Tate, it’s not what you think.”

  In a hushed yell that is barely above a whisper, he says, “That your business partner is also your ex-husband. Not to mention that he’s an old friend of mine. Fuck, Mia, you really know how to keep someone in the dark.”

  Stunned by his words, I pull my hand back and take the shot in front of me. Tate stares ahead at the bar where Asher is running his hands up and down Blondie’s quad. Tate doesn’t know me. He has no idea what my marriage was like and it’s clear he has no interest in seeing past the obvious. He has no idea how perfectly he hit the nail on the head with the last part of his comment.

  “Tate, I honestly didn’t know—”

  “What? That I’d find out?”

  I take a deep breath. “There’s nothing to find out, Tate. You never told me who gave you my name, Asher never mentioned it, and who cares if he’s my ex and my partner?”

  Tate throws up his hands and leans closer to me, his voice still quiet yet much more intense. “Who cares? Who fuckin’ cares? I do, Mia, or Amelia, whatever the hell your name is. I fucking care because I have feelings for you. I want you, Mia. No, I need you and this whole time you’ve been with Tommy behind my back.”

  “Behind your back?” I question, ignoring the rest of this statement. “I’ve been working. Asher and my relationship was over long before it started. Ever since I met you, it’s been nothing but professional.”

  He scoffs. “Professional, huh? It that what that kiss during the game was? Or what about when his lips were all over you a few minutes ago? Or better yet, how he still introduces you as his wife? You two have a fucked up relationship is all I can say,” he rants and
stands up, heading for the exit.

  My entire body shakes with his revelation, yet he has no idea exactly how true his words are.

  CHAPTER 16

  Tate

  My body shakes violently as I struggle to push three-hundred pounds over my head. I arch my back and press with all my power, praying it doesn’t drop on me. Of course, if it does then I won’t ever have to think about Mia Tomko again, which wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

  Suddenly, the weight is lifted out of my hands and my hope of never thinking about Mia again is vanished. My body falls back onto the workout bench, still trembling slightly as I sit up and see Grant racking the weight.

  He tosses me a towel and nods toward the bar. “Working off steam today?”

  I shrug my shoulders and gulp down my water.

  Leaning against the rail behind the bench, he cocks an eyebrow and simply asks, “Mia?”

  I’m really not in the mood to talk about it, but the anger floods through my body again. I stand up and slam my water bottle on the ground. Through gritted teeth, I answer, “Yeah, she’s fuckin’ married to her business partner, Asher Tomko.” I say his name in a mocking tone. I still can’t believe he took her name; it seems like an extremely uncharacteristic move for him.

  Grants narrows his eyes. “The realtor? He showed us a few houses when we first moved out here. By the third house, I was about to kick his ass the way he was flirting with Colie. Mia’s really married to that douche?”

  I shake my head. “Yeah…well, she was, but…”

  Grant raises his eyebrows as I pause. “So she’s not, so what’s the problem?”

  I drop to the bench, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees and hanging my head. Grant takes a seat beside me as weights clang around us and jock jams blare through the speakers.