Over the Fence: Lyssa Layne's Baseball Romances

by Lyssa Layne

  “Mia James, successful owner of James Realty.” The court was generous in the ruling, awarding Mia with all her assets that were rightfully hers. Asher had damn near iron-clad contracts that wouldn’t allow Mia to take anything of her own. Since the judge was sending him away for a long time, Mia was allowed to pretty much take anything and everything she wanted, including their business and dropping him as co-owner.

  Pulling my wife against me, I rub her back and kiss her softly. “Mia James, mother of our children.” We’d never used protection, not from day one. Mia had been told by multiple doctors that she’d never be able to carry a child. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago when she was safely out of her first trimester that she shared the unbelievable news with me. Next week, she’ll be over halfway through the pregnancy and we’ll find out if the baby is a boy or a girl.

  Elated, excited, ecstatic doesn’t even begin to describe how we feel and Toby is even more thrilled about being a big brother. Mia’s become the mother that I’ve always wanted for him, the mother he’s always needed. The two of them love each other more than words can describe, which only makes me love her even more.

  She grins as she nods. “Love conquers all, baby.”

  My lips capture hers, our tongues roll together, and Mia pulls back with a look of surprise. Her hand grabs mine and places it on her stomach where I feel the tiniest flutter. Grinning from ear to ear, I nod and mumble, “Yes, it does.”

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I couldn’t have published this book without my amazing beta readers: Isabella Bearden, Amanda McNary, K.S. Thomas, and Chantel Rhondeau. As soon as I finished The Right Pitch, I cruised right through this story thanks to Rachelle Ayala’s Romance in a Month “support group.”

  As always, much appreciation to the wonderful, Melissa Keir for her amazing formatting skills. To Tami Adams of Magic of Books Promotions, thank you for proofreading and to Heather Kirchoff, thanks for your editing.

  The cover-I absolutely LOVE the cover and it couldn’t have been done without the help of many friends. This is the first time that I actually took the pictures myself, but I couldn’t have done it without these people…First off, to my amazing models, Stephie and Richard, you are both two amazing people that I am lucky enough to call my friends. To the beyond talented Katie Beach, who is not only a photography wizard, but always supports my crazy ideas. And to E.J. Kellan, my cover designer, thank you for putting up with my multitude of emails that give instructions like “a smidge to the left.” You are all beyond awesome!

  To my lovers of Lyssa Layne, my loyal fans and readers, thank you for your continued support. I love that you are always requesting more and I’m doing my absolute best to deliver. Fear of Striking Out is my favorite of my books so far and I hope you enjoyed the love that Mia, Tate, and Toby shared. Happy reading and stay tuned for more!

  ~~~~

  I hope that no one ever goes through anything Mia experienced although I know that is only a wish. If you or anyone you know is a victim of domestic abuse, please reach out for help. You are beautiful, you are strong, and people are out there that can help. For help and resources, check out this websites: The National Domestic Violence Hotline, National Coalition Against Domestic Abuse, or Safe Horizon. Remember: Violence is not the solution. It’s the problem.

  Another at Bat

  Baseball always offers you a second chance. It’s called another at bat.

  -Anonymous

  CHAPTER 1

  Jace

  Rain. Fucking rain. Of course it’s raining. If I was still a betting man, I would’ve wagered the heavens would open and pour like this, but I’ve already gambled everything away which is why I’m standing in the pouring rain at midnight, looking like a homeless man.

  I tug the collar of my leather Armani coat around my neck, trying to ward off the rain, not that it helps. Drops of water fall fast over my thick hair and trickle down my neck, making me shiver from the dampness floating through my body. I bring the forty of Pabst Blue Ribbon wrapped in a brown paper sack to my lips and finish it off. Shaking my head, I laugh at the expensive coat on my back, one of the few things I was able to grab from my D.C. penthouse before the landlord kicked me out. Here I am, using a jacket that costs over a thousand bucks as a raincoat and drinking a PBR because that’s all I can afford now. Just a few years ago and I could’ve bought any top shelf alcohol I wanted, and the women to go with it, but because I couldn’t get my gambling under control, I now have nothing.

  Headlights shine against the building, flashing in my eyes and I cover my face to block out the light. A few seconds later, the door slams shut on the SUV that just parked and I hear the clicking of heels. I throw my beer bottle in the bushes and step out of the darkness when she’s close enough to the front doors of the office building. Reaching out to grab her hand, she squeals as she turns in my direction. I don’t even have a chance to speak when I’m body slammed against the brick wall behind me and gasping for air as a hand closes around my throat, cutting off my air flow. The beast in front of me has me lifted off the ground, my feet dangling and thrashing like I’m treading water. Black dots float across my vision when I hear her voice.

  “Evan, put him down!”

  An animalistic growl comes from deep within the beast and he drops his hand, letting me fall to the ground like a rag doll. My chest heaves up and down, wheezing for air and I try to focus on my Nikes that barely have any tread left on them. My vision slowly returns to normal and her body appears between my legs. My eyes wander up her bare leg to where her short black, lacey dress hits mid-thigh. Her hand is extended, offering to help me up. Rising to my feet, I hold her hand just a second longer than needed before she yanks it out of my grip.

  Against my better judgment, I mutter, “Down, Cujo,” to the giant standing behind her. If this asshole wants to have a pissing match, I’m game because I’ve got nothing to lose.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Her tone is sharp and she doesn’t hide her irritation.

  I follow her and the beast into the building. While we wait for the elevator, I recognize the giant as Evan Purser, linebacker for the NFL Lancers. I touch my neck where the pressure of his fingers linger and just the memory of a few seconds ago has me feeling short of breath. I feel bad for anyone who has to go up against him on the line of scrimmage.

  The elevator doors open and the three of us step inside. Camila Lemos, my former agent, presses a button while Evan keeps his eyes trained on me with a scowl on his face. Camila tosses her hair over her shoulder and looks at me.

  “We’re supposed to meet tomorrow, Jace.”

  Evan’s eyes go wide. “This is Jace Richards?” He shakes his head and mutters, “What a tool.”

  I glance at him then to Camila. “Since when did Walker start hiring you a bodyguard?”

  Evan scoffs, sliding his arm around Camila and kissing her cheek. “You wish I was her bodyguard because if I was, I’d have taken it a little easier on you.”

  My jaw drops. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me, Camila? I get kicked out of the MLB and you forget your rule of no fucking your clients.” I shake my head in disbelief. Camila Lemos is one fine piece of ass with her dark Brazilian skin and features plus those legs that go on forever. What I wouldn’t have done for just one night with her but when I was her client, she had a strict ‘no relations with clients’ rule.

  Evan steps around her, shoving me against the wall and pushing the air out of my lungs. “Disrespect her again and I’ll crush your skull.”

  I hold up my hands in surrender. I need Camila’s help so I can’t fuck this up, even if she is an idiot to screw around with Evan Purser. Seriously, of all her clients… him? She has a bad taste for men.

  Camila moves between us, pushing Evan off me. “There is way too much testosterone in this elevator. And for your information, Evan isn’t my client.”

  The elevator doors open and she steps out. Her sweet perfume teases me and my cock twitches, reminding me that I haven�
�t gotten laid in a long time. Glancing at my reflection in the metal, I stroke my long, unkempt beard. The ladies don’t flock to my new appearance like they used to.

  Camila leads us down the hallway while Evan and I walk side by side. He sniffs the air and scrunches his nose. “You smell like a fuckin’ brewery.”

  I open my mouth to retaliate but we’re already in Camila’s office and she answers my previous question regarding her boss. “Mr. Walker took an active retirement. Kip and I now run everything with Mr. Walker’s input from time to time.” She narrows her eyes and places her hands on her desk, pushing her chest out and I stifle my groan so that the barbarian, who is now sitting on the couch, doesn’t attack me again.

  “Well, congrats.” My hopes of having Netsports, my former sports agency, help me rebuild my reputation are squashed at the news.

  Camila walks around me, moving her hands to my shoulders and urging me to take off my jacket. “He’s asked that I work with you and despite my personal opinions, I’ll do what I can to help you.”

  My optimism flourishes and a smile comes to my lips. “Thanks, I appreciate that. Not sure what he’s told you…” Bill Walker and I have a complicated relationship although he’s always had my back when push comes to shove.

  Camila hangs up my jacket and turns to me, a soft smile toying at her lips. “That you’re a good guy and I shouldn’t believe everything I read in the papers. I agreed to help you, but you’re going to have to prove that to me.”

  I nod. “Fair enough.”

  I had almost forgot Evan Purser was in the room until he opens his mouth again. “Dude, you’re a fuckin’ idiot. You had it all. Stellar career, hot woman—” Camila clears her throat to cut him off and he gets the hint. “Seriously, man, you were a leading pitcher in the MLB, huge endorsements, cash out the ass, so why the hell were you betting on your own team?”

  Biggest mistake of my life. Well, maybe not the biggest. Letting Colie Adamson slip away when I had the opportunity to make her mine forever was worse than losing my entire career and being banned from the MLB. The money got to me and there was never enough of it. The more money I had, the larger my ego, and the bigger asshole I became. I changed faster than I realized and before I knew it, Colie gave her heart to a man much better than myself.

  I shrug. “We all make mistakes.” I turn my attention back to Camila. “I have some more community service to do and I want to clean up my image, try to get a fuckin’ job so I don’t have to live with my parents but I need your help.”

  Camila places her hand on my shoulder. “I’ll do what I can, Jace.”

  I look up into her eyes. “How’s Colie?”

  Camila averts my gaze and begins to rattle off a game plan on how to turn my life around. I tune out because I know how Colie is. She’s happily married with her dream job and a family to share it with. I fucked up in more ways than one and I’m paying for it big time.

  Laurel

  A horn honks, distracting me from the world I’d escaped to. Looking out the window, I see my ex-husband’s Range Rover pull in my driveway. I let out a long sigh as I untangle my legs curled beneath me and set my copy of K.S. Thomas’ Unhurt on the coffee table. Nothing beats an actual paperback in my hands with nothing to interrupt my reading time. I open the front door to greet them, hoping Adam won’t linger if I don’t waste any time.

  A blonde ten-year-old darts down the sidewalk to me and waves before running inside. “Hi, Laurel!” Sam Pruitt, my son’s best friend, drops his baseball bag at the door like he lives here. With his mom being sick, and his only guardian, he actually does spend a majority of his time at my house, which my son loves.

  I ruffle his hair as he runs past. “Hey Sam, how was practice?”

  “Great!” He calls back to me, running to the kitchen where I already have Gatorades and fruit waiting for the boys.

  I turn back to the driveway and my own son, Grey, sulks down the sidewalk. Behind him, his father stands with a disapproving look on his face. Grey doesn’t even acknowledge me as he gets to the door, but I grab his hand before he gets inside.

  With a frown on my face, I ask, “Hey, no kiss for your mother?” I know I’m probably pushing it. He’s ten and I’m about to be on the list of things that aren’t cool, but Grey has always been a Momma’s boy, even more so after spending time with his father.

  I lean down and he kisses my cheek. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

  Glancing back at my ex, I can tell he wants to talk to me and I fight the urge to run inside with the boys and lock the door. Instead, I take Grey’s chin in my hand and look him in the eyes. “We’ll talk later?”

  He nods and hope flutters across his face. I pat his shoulder, guiding him inside to join Sam then take a deep breath and close the door behind me. I walk the short distance to Adam, leaving plenty of space between us and cross my arms in a defensive stance.

  “What now, Adam?” I ask, sounding exasperated.

  Adam wastes no time taking a step toward me, invading my personal space. The disdain he was showing with Grey is gone and he’s replaced it with his classic, charming Adam expression, thinking it will still work on me. I won’t lie, the man is still as delicious looking as the day I met him in fifth hour study hall. Tall, dark, and handsome is one way to describe Adam with his dark hair that’s always standing on end in a completely sexy look and his manicured beard and mustache, which I still recall exactly how it tickled when he would kiss me. But then Adam grew up and became this sophisticated business man, which is evident in the pressed slacks and button up shirt he’s wearing with one button undone to make me slightly miss the body that’s underneath. Once he started his new career, the hometown girl who he’d fallen for at fifteen was no longer good enough for him.

  His finger trails down my cheek as he tilts his head to the side. “Year round baseball, Laurel? Come one. I mean, if Grey had any potential, I’d understand, but he doesn’t. It’s a total waste of time.”

  And like that, all the reasons that I hate him overpower any sexual desire for him and I swat his finger out of my face. “A waste of your time is what you mean. Grey loves baseball and he asked to play again this season. And for your information, our son is a great pitcher.” Not that Adam would know, when he does show up to Grey’s games, he’s on his phone the entire time. “Besides, I’d much rather him be playing a sport outside with his friends than holed up in front of the television playing Xbox.” I narrow my eyes but the Xbox is just one of many arguments Adam and I have had over our son.

  He throws up his hands. “He likes his Xbox and I don’t have to sit around watching him play.”

  Moving my hands to my hips, I raise my eyebrows. “Great parenting, Adam. Very hands on.”

  Adam sighs and lowers his dark eyes apologetically. I’ve seen him do this too many times but I’m not buying it any more. He reaches in his pocket and hands me a piece of paper. “The coach handed out the schedule today. Starting in a few weeks, he has two games every Saturday. Every Saturday, Laurel! I can’t commit to that.”

  I snort, trying not to laugh out loud at the irony of his statement. Adam Darbis couldn’t commit to anything if his life depended on it. I try to fight back a grin but my lips still turn up in a smirk. “You know I’m always willing to take one of your weekends if you can’t commit to your son for forty-eight hours every two weeks like the judge ordered.” As much as I hate not having Grey with me, he still needs a father and it breaks my heart that Adam can’t give the kid two weekends a month of his uninterrupted attention.

  Adam’s hands are on my waist, taking me by surprise when he pulls my body against his. “You’d love that, Teddy, wouldn’t you? Sorry, but no go, my weekends are my weekends. I’ll let him play this season but this is it, no more baseball after that.”

  My cheeks burn red at his embarrassing nickname. Shoving him, I wiggle out of his grip. “Don’t ever call me Teddy again.”

  A wicked grin creeps over his face and he knows he’s won. “Why not, Tedd
y? You know I love that name.”

  I lean in close and whisper, “You lost the right to call me anything except Laurel when you stuck your dick in another woman.” Shock replaces that shiteating grin of his and I don’t stop. “Grey will decide what he wants to do after this summer. Not you, not me. If you don’t like what he chooses, too bad.”

  Quickly, I turn and walk back toward the house but not before Adam gets in the last word as he calls after me. “We’ll see about that!”

  I slam the door shut and flip him off once he can’t see me. Giggles and burps greet me from the kitchen and I relax now that Grey’s mood has lightened since he’s not with his father. My phone rings and I answer when I see it’s my best friend.

  “Hey, Ash. You wouldn’t believe the discussion I just had with Adam,” I tell her, using the code word so that Grey doesn’t constantly hear about Adam and me fighting.

  “Well, tell me in a minute. I just got a phone call from Coach Piper… he’s moving.” She pauses before adding, “In two weeks.”

  I sink to the couch and close my eyes. This can’t be happening. Adam will be elated to know the baseball coach is leaving town, which means the team will disintegrate. Meanwhile, the two boys in my kitchen will be devastated. Why do these things always happen at the worse time? Then again, is there ever a good time for bad things to happen?

  CHAPTER 2

  Jace

  “Home sweet home!” Camila announces at we pull up in front of a run-down Victorian-style house.

  I lean forward from the backseat of the SUV, moving between the front seats and squint, hoping the image in front of me isn’t real. The what was once white paint is almost completely peeled off, leaving brown decaying boards, the dead grass in the lawn matches the boards, and I can’t even count the number of shingles that are missing. The dangling Christmas lights are the only sign that anyone has lived here recently.