Catching Zia (Spring Training Book 1)

by Becca Jameson

  She flushed thinking about the way she must have looked spread out for him to stare at while she saw nothing. At the time, all she’d been able to think about was how aroused she was and how badly she needed to come. Even when she did orgasm, she hadn’t been sated. She wanted more.

  And he delivered. Several times.

  She flushed again.

  The voices at the front of the condo grew louder, drawing her attention. She couldn’t distinguish words. Just tones. But she stiffened.

  Then abruptly the front door shut, or nearly slammed, and the conversation ended.

  Several minutes ticked by.

  Zia didn’t move. She waited for Brett to come to her.

  The smell of coffee reached her nose.

  Finally, the door eased open.

  Brett smiled. His mug was steaming in his hands. “Sorry about that. I’m sure we woke you.”

  She glanced at the window. “I was asleep for too long already. What time is it?”

  He chuckled. “Early. And I didn’t let you drift off until the wee hours, either. I’m gonna be dragging at today’s game.” He lifted his coffee. “Third cup. You want me to pour you some? I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “Hate it. Gross. Love the smell. Not drinking black sludge, though.”

  “Noted. No coffee. OJ?”

  “Now you’re talking.” She cringed as she lifted herself to sitting.

  Brett reached for her arm with one hand and helped her stand. “We need to get you in better shape if you’re going to keep up with me.”

  She shot him an evil glance, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t even go there. I’m not about to attempt to keep up with you on that front. I’ll watch from the sidelines. You can run, throw, hit, jump, or whatever you want. I’ll sketch it.” She grinned now. “After all, that’s how we met. You saw me sitting on that park bench. Did I look like I ran there?”

  “Nope. You didn’t. Good point.”

  She almost pointed out that he’d met her authentic self that day, and he could take it or leave it. But then she thought better of speaking those words. He had most certainly not presented his authentic self. And she’d left him and then taken him back.

  Was she making the right decision? It wasn’t as if he’d actually lied. A gorgeous hunk of man had been out running and stopped to talk to her. His fitness wasn’t in question. He ran that far every day. Perhaps he hadn’t displayed the best case of integrity withholding information about his actual day job, but she was trying to come to grips with his reasoning.

  He almost made sense. She could see his point.

  If the woman arguing with him earlier was anything to go by, she wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.

  Who was she?

  She was about to ask him when his phone buzzed.

  He pulled it out and smirked at the text. “Dominic thinks he’s funny.” He rolled his eyes as he put it back in his pocket.

  And then her phone buzzed on the bedside table.

  Brett chuckled, reached for her cell, and handed it to her. “I’ll go pour you some OJ.”

  As he padded from the room, she glanced at the text, assuming it would be from Monica or Lily or even Caroline checking on her. Nope. Her damn mother.

  Carmen: I heard you were back together with your ballplayer. You should invite me over to meet him.

  Zia cringed. Not a chance in hell. She dropped the phone without even acknowledging the woman.

  With a sigh, she leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. How often was her mother going to attempt to contact her?

  She turned her mind back to Brett and the woman at the front door.

  He’d acknowledged that she’d obviously heard them and offered nothing else. Should she leave the subject alone for now?

  It wasn’t as though she thought he had other relationships. That much she admitted. He spoke to her every night when he wasn’t playing and several times during the day.

  Every day she knew more about this man who had dug his way into her heart. And every day she liked him more.

  He had promised not to leave her out of anything important ever again. She trusted him. So if he didn’t mention the woman at the door, then he had good reasons, or she was just that unimportant.

  Zia stuffed the weird encounter to the back of her mind.

  Brett stepped back into the room with a tall glass of orange juice. As he handed it to her, he spoke. “I’m sorry, but I have to get to the stadium. I have to be there at nine. You can take a shower and hang out here as long as you want. Or sleep the day away if you’d like. I can send someone to get you later? Or maybe you’ve had all the baseball you can take.”

  His last words were clipped. Almost a question. Not quite.

  She smiled slowly, eased out of bed, and set the OJ on the bedside table. She grabbed his T-shirt off the floor. It unnerved her completely to be naked. She knew he found it comical, and maybe one day she’d relax in front of him, but not yet.

  She tugged the cotton that smelled of Brett over her head and met his gaze. She cocked a hip. “Seriously? If I told you I wanted to hit a movie or go to the mall today, you’d be okay with that?”

  He scrunched up his face and nodded. “I… Uh… Sure.”

  “Liar. I thought we said we were going to be honest with each other from now on.” Who was the woman at the door, Brett?

  He lowered his shoulders. “Okay. Okay. I want you to like baseball. I pray to God you can learn to enjoy the game, but I can’t expect you to jump all in after one day. That’s not fair. So, yes. If you want to go to the mall, I’ll leave you the car and get a ride to the stadium.”

  She giggled. “I’m not that big of a bitch, Brett. If the roles were reversed, I’d kick your ass to the curb. What time do you need to leave?”

  He glanced at his watch. “Twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll be ready.” She grabbed the OJ and darted across the room for the bathroom.

  “Okay. But, babe, you don’t have to rush. Seriously. I’ll leave you the car or send a driver. You’re going to be bored out of your mind before the game starts.”

  She grabbed the frame of the door and twisted to look back at him. “Will you be out on the field in those tight pants tossing that little ball around with your friends?”

  He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Sure. But don’t let anyone else hear you describe it that way.”

  “Then I will most assuredly not be bored.” She wasn’t kidding. His ass in those pants? And the way he jumped up to make a catch? Even the way he lifted and resituated his hat between throws? Her panties would be wet, if she were wearing any.

  * * *

  “So you’re dating Brett?”

  Zia jerked her gaze toward the woman leaning against the wall next to the towel dispenser. She shook the excess water off her hands and somehow managed to get her feet to move toward her destination until only inches separated the two of them.

  She recognized the woman from yesterday. The one shooting daggers with her sad puppy eyes from the shadows as they walked away from the clubhouse. She had short blond hair styled in a perfect pixie cut that suited her face, full pouty lips, huge blue eyes. She could have been a model. Which made Zia want to scream.

  The woman fidgeted, glancing down at her feet several times and then back at Zia. “Did he tell you about me?”

  Zia still said nothing. No way in hell was she going to give this stranger information. In fact, she wasn’t going to feed any rumor mill at all. Obviously the woman was distressed over Zia’s relationship with Brett.

  Past lover? How far in the past?

  Zia swallowed, telling herself it didn’t matter who Brett had been with in the past, nor how many women he’d slept with. All that mattered was that he was with her now. She had to believe he would never cheat on her.

  They would have nothing if she didn’t go all in and trust him. She had no other choice. She was falling in love with the man. And though she’d onl
y permitted herself to think that thought in the recesses of her brain and was nowhere near voicing it, she was in too deep not to give this her all.

  If he’d been with this woman months ago or weeks ago or even while he and Zia had been estranged, she shouldn’t freak out about it.

  Had this woman come to Brett’s condo that morning to make a scene? If that was her aim, Zia wouldn’t let her think she cared. Not for a second.

  She lifted her chin, licked her lips, and spoke. “I don’t know what issue you have with Brett, but it’s inappropriate for you to take it up with me. My relationship with him is none of your business.”

  The blonde flinched. Her shoulders drooped. “Of course. How exactly like Brett to leave you in the dark.” She turned and fled the restroom, leaving Zia standing near the entrance.

  Zia’s head was spinning. What the hell had just happened?

  Who was the blonde? What did she want with Brett?

  And the bigger question? Should Zia tell him about this encounter?

  She wasn’t sure, but her gut told her no.

  First of all, Zia didn’t want Brett to think she was jealous or even flustered by his past dalliances. Deep inside she might have been, but on the outside, she needed to be a bigger girl if she was going to enter this rat race.

  Second of all, he hadn’t mentioned a word about this woman coming to the condo this morning when clearly she had. Why should Zia mention running into her in the bathroom?

  Not that she was being petty. It was more a case of self-preservation. If Zia didn’t ask questions, she wouldn’t have to hear the answers. Which was undoubtedly the same thing Brett was thinking.

  Her former therapist’s voice popped into her head, reminding her that open communication was critical to any relationship, but Zia tamped the voice down. She didn’t want all her issues to turn her into a high-maintenance, mistrustful girlfriend.

  How many women would come on to him every day? Dozens? More? Less? She had no idea. Visions of groupies hanging around the clubhouse or leaning over the dugout made her shudder.

  She wasn’t stupid. Many professional athletes screwed around. There was a new story in the tabloids every day about another relationship ruined by a cheating athlete.

  Hell, Zia had featured in one of those articles, and that had been before anyone knew her name. There was every chance in the world she would show up on the front page of another prominent media source before the weekend was up. As a matter of fact, she probably already had. How else had her mother already sniffed gold?

  She needed thick skin. And she needed it now.

  In the past few days, Brett had warned her about what would happen. He’d never specifically told her how many women he’d been with over the years, but she was a smart girl.

  He was sexy as hell and a thirty-year-old single ball player. What did she expect?

  The picture Brett painted had been daunting. There was no way to sugarcoat it. Cameras would get in her face. Microphones would be thrust at her. Questions asked. Especially when the season officially started. Everyone loved a good story. No one cared about accuracy.

  His advice had been to smile and ignore every camera and reporter.

  In the end, it was up to her. He wouldn’t stop her from talking to anyone she wanted, but he warned her their private life would be exaggerated beyond belief, whether or not she spoke. The more she gave them, the more they would amplify the information.

  This visit was obviously a test of her willpower. And she had just exercised it for the first time against ex-girlfriend number one. She had visualized cameras and reporters. She had considered tabloid exaggeration. She had not factored in ex-girlfriends.

  Interestingly enough, Brett had mentioned no one from that subgroup, either.

  With a deep breath, Zia left the bathroom and headed for her seat behind the dugout. She refused to let anyone see her sweat. Not the blond woman. Not any other groupie. Not the media. And certainly not Brett.

  She could do this. She had to do this. There were no other options.

  Would she have chosen to fall in love with a professional athlete? Maybe if she’d known everything that was involved, she would have been more cautious with her heart. But hindsight was twenty-twenty. Now she would be lying if she denied her feelings for Brett.

  The spotlight was not her friend. No. But she hadn’t chosen this. Brett had. Now, she cared too deeply not to give their relationship every chance she could.

  If it failed, it would hurt. It would probably leave a hole in her heart too large for repair.

  In her mind, she could hear the old cliché her mother used to say to herself every time one of her lovers moved out. She would cackle and tell the room at large—a.k.a. Zia—“Better to have loved and lost…” By the time Zia was twelve, she understood the unspoken second half of that phrase.

  And she never wanted to be in the position to utter those words.

  Yet here she was. Taking this risk. This chance. She had no other choice. Not with her heart leading the way.

  As if on cue, her phone buzzed again. A quick glance showed another text from her mother. Lordy. Zia didn’t even bother to read it this time. She was over that part of her life. Done. If Carmen Sharpley wanted to hound her to death, Zia would not let it get to her. She would not respond.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Either the blonde left, or she watched the game from someplace private, because Zia didn’t see her again.

  Thank God.

  And another godsend was when an adorable, dark-haired, Asian woman sat next to Zia and twisted to face her. “I’m Trish.” She pointed to the outfield. “Right field is mine.” She giggled. “Damon Rutherford. You’re with Brett Michelson, right? He asked Damon to ask me to sit with you.”

  “Oh.” Zia was shocked. “Uh…” The last thing she wanted was for other girlfriends to pity her.

  Trish waved a hand between them. “That didn’t come out right. It’s not like anyone twisted my arm. I’m harmless. Promise. I’m just outgoing and friendly. All the guys hit up Damon for my welcoming when they bring a new girlfriend to a game. I know how hard it is to sit here alone, not knowing anyone and trying to smile and nod. It’s exhausting.”

  Zia smiled. She liked this woman. Especially if Trish was the extrovert she claimed to be. It might help Zia meet some other wives and girlfriends. Was that the best thing to do? It felt like meeting some guy’s family for the first time. So very…committed.

  Zia sat up straighter. “Thank you. It’s true. I know no one. Brett’s sister came with me yesterday, but she has a newborn, so it’s not possible for her to continue to hang out with me.”

  Trish nodded. “Saw you and Monica with the baby yesterday. I wasn’t sitting close enough to yell out. Monica’s a doll. Love her. And the baby looks so cute.”

  “She is.”

  The national anthem drew them both to their feet, and then the game was on. Brett started the game again and played the first four innings.

  It was hot out. The sun was almost directly overhead and in their eyes.

  The players had to be sweltering.

  Zia couldn’t imagine the pressure these guys were under to perform well. So much money. How much of a ribbing did they get from the coach when they made an error?

  If Brett had a bad game or they lost or he didn’t get a hit, would he come home angry? Depressed? Closed off?

  She didn’t know the answers to these questions. And the reality of that made her wring her hands in her lap.

  After his second at bat and consecutive strikeout, Zia worried.

  Trish grabbed her hand and squeezed before releasing her. “Don’t worry. Brett’s unflappable. He’s one of the calmest guys on the team. That’s one of the attributes that makes him a great player. No matter how many times he misses, he won’t bring it to the next play. I seriously doubt he takes this game home with him at the end of the day.”

  Trish may have doubted it. But she didn’t really know. And neither did Zi
a. Perhaps it was best if Brett didn’t play well this entire game. It would give Zia a taste of that side of him. Then she realized how absurd it was to inwardly wish him to fail. Good grief.

  Trish was a breath of fresh air. She was kind enough to explain several more details about the game. Even though Monica had done her best with a running commentary the day before, there was still so much to learn. It seemed it would take months or years to fully understand.

  Trish was patient and easy to talk to. Another woman joined them on Trish’s other side in the fourth inning. She was winded and breathing heavily as she leaned across to introduce herself. “Kelly. Married to number thirteen. Shortstop. You’re Zia?”

  Zia shook her hand and nodded. Did every player’s significant other know about her? She felt at a disadvantage. But what did she expect? She was one new girlfriend. They were a club of established partners.

  Lumping them all into a group she inwardly labeled “partners” was about as inclusive as she could get. Some were married. Others were engaged. There were long-term relationships and dates like herself who recently met their respective player. If Zia wasn’t mistaken, there appeared to be a man among the group too. Although she never managed to discern which player he was with.

  On Brett’s third at bat, he got a hit up the left field line just like the day before. Maybe that was common for him.

  At least he would be pleased with the hit, right? Would it overshadow the misses?

  “His batting average is actually higher than several players on the team,” Trish told her as if she’d read Zia’s mind again. “No worries.”

  Zia realized she had been sitting on her hands during his entire time at bat and then released a long exhale as he ran to first.

  Trish continued, “Brett will probably come out of the game after this inning or the next. So will Damon. The regulars usually only play the start of these pre-season games. Coaches need to see the new guys. Sometimes the older guys even leave after they’re done.”

  “Oh. Brett didn’t mention that.”

  Trish shrugged. “He tends to like to stay and watch anyway. Damon often does too.”