“No one wants it in the face. Well, not in the field anyway.” Brad laughed at his own joke and Gabriel shook his head.
“You’re a dirty son of a bitch, you know that.”
“Speaking of dirty,” Brad said. “The chick I’m seeing is coming along today.”
“The preteen who got your name tattooed on her leg?” Reed shook his head. “You’re gonna have trouble with that one.”
“Preteen,” Brad scoffed. “Don’t be such an asshole. She’s twenty-two.”
“Just legal.” Reed looked his friend in the eye. “You serious about her?”
Brad shrugged and didn’t respond. Reed knew it was none of his business, nor was he the person who should be lecturing anyone on relationships right now. Or ever. But encouraging a young woman to get your name tattooed on her…it was wrong. Unless you were dead serious that it was going to last. And Brad was the kind of guy who never seemed dead serious about anything.
“Maybe you should worry about your own problems, McMahon,” Brad suggested. “Seems like you’ve got enough to keep you occupied.”
Reed’s hands twitched as resentment zipped through his veins. Having a lothario like Brad call him out was salt in the wound after a shitty couple of weeks. But they were nothing alike. Reed, while certainly not perfect, had been open about his desire to remain single. His jaw twitched.
“Why don’t we just stick to playing ball, eh?” Gabriel said.
Brad wasn’t worth his time, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the guy was magic on the field, Reed would have convinced Gabriel to kick him out long ago. But the Smokin’ Bases lived by one rule only when it came to the game: leave your issues at home.
Chapter 16
“I never met a guy who made me want him as much as Reed. There’s something about him that inspires the chase. It’s thrilling…and ultimately disappointing.”
—User212
“By the way,” Gabriel said as they walked onto the field, gloves in hand, “you’re not pitching. Especially after that.”
“Think I’ll bean someone?”
Gabriel chuckled. “I know you will. And as team captain, I’m not stupid enough to put you in that spot when you’re looking like a bull staring down a matador.”
“We could find someone else for outfield,” Reed said. He tipped his face up to the sky and let the summer warmth wash over him. If this wasn’t enough to pull him out of his funk, then he was in deep shit.
“No way. The Pokémaster stays.” Gabriel winked. “He really does catch ’em all.”
If only Brad were as good at playing nice with the team as he was at catching fly balls. He glanced over to where he stood at the fence, his arms draped over it while he chatted with two women. The one with lighter hair giggled as she flipped it over her shoulder. That must be the “chick,” as he’d so eloquently called her.
Reed stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at the woman standing next to Brad’s girlfriend. Defensiveness seeped from her posture—she had her arms crossed over her chest and her head tilted to one side—but it was the all-black outfit and tattoos on one arm that had him frozen.
What the hell was Darcy doing here?
“Give me a minute,” Reed said as he left Gabriel standing with a confused look on his face.
He marched over to the edge of the field, watching closely as Brad talked to the two women. Was his girlfriend a friend of Darcy’s? A relative? They didn’t look alike, at least from a distance. Though it was hard to compare two people who were dressed so differently. He looked at the girlfriend in her short skirt, preppy chambray shirt, and tiny handbag. Yep, nothing like Darcy.
“This must be your new girlfriend,” he said as he slapped Brad on the back like they were old friends. “How about an introduction?”
Brad looked at him like he’d spoken in gibberish. “Reed, this is Cynthia and her sister, Darcy.”
Sister, interesting.
“Reed?” Darcy blinked. “What a coincidence.”
Cynthia extended her hand in perfect ladylike fashion and shot him a beaming smile. “It’s so nice to meet Brad’s friends. I’ve been hearing all about how well your team is doing.”
“No thanks to this guy here.” Brad jerked his thumb toward Reed. “Sometimes I’m not sure what team he’s on. He managed to hit a batter last week.”
“It slipped,” Reed drawled, shooting Cynthia a smile. “We all make mistakes sometimes.”
Darcy looked at him curiously. “Do we?”
Was she asking if their night together was a mistake?
“Only if you do something permanent,” he said.
Darcy shoved her hands into her pockets. She appeared to have relaxed since he’d walked over, her concentrated scowl disappearing.
Don’t take it as a compliment. She probably doesn’t want to be doing this any more than Brad does.
His teammate looked awkward as hell. Obviously, the introduction to the big sister wasn’t planned—at least not from Brad’s perspective. Reed had to hold back a laugh. Darcy might be slender, but she looked like she’d take you down if necessary.
“How exactly do you two know each other?” Cynthia asked. “Don’t tell me you’re dating, that would be such a funny coincidence.”
“No!” Reed and Darcy both said it at the same time, the force of their denial making Cynthia throw her hands up.
“Okay, okay. Geez.” She laughed. “Sorry for asking.”
“We’re working together,” Darcy clarified. Her cheeks had warmed to a delightful shade of pink, but she kept a straight face as she explained how he was “so generously” offering his services for free to help out with the library fundraiser. Which, according to Darcy, was because he loved books so much and felt very passionately about the relevance of libraries in today’s society.
Give me a bucket.
Darcy shot him a smug look as Cynthia awwed. “That’s so nice.”
“He’s a real stand-up guy,” Darcy said. “He even told me he thinks more people should be reading books than using the internet. Especially where etiquette and manners are concerned.”
Before he could retort, Gabriel was yelling at them to hurry up and take their places for the first inning. Cynthia had thrown her arms around Brad in what was apparently a good-luck kiss but looked a hell of a lot closer to a teenage make-out session.
“You going to kiss me good luck?” Reed said, leaning over the railing.
“Not a chance in hell, buddy.” She grinned. “You’ll have to get lucky all on your own.”
“I’ve been doing that a bit too much this week.”
She snorted. “You are so inappropriate.”
“It’s my specialty.” He winked and she shook her head, her cheeks flaming even brighter. “And don’t think I’ve already forgotten about that little quip. Etiquette books my ass. You’ll pay for that.”
“Bring it on, McMahon.” She poked her tongue out and the silver ball glinted in the sunlight. Taunting him.
Cheeky. Little. Minx.
Gabriel yelled again and Reed dragged himself away, his mood buoyed for some stupid reason. It wasn’t seeing Darcy. It was watching the inevitable crash and burn of Brad and Cynthia…at least, that’s what he was going to keep telling himself.
* * *
Reed played one of the worst games of baseball in his life that afternoon. Not only did he fail to score a single run, but he also managed to miss the world’s easiest out while playing third base.
“What the hell got into you today?” Brad said as the team traipsed off the field. “I was only joking before when I said I wasn’t sure which side you were on. You didn’t have to take it so literally.”
Brad, of course, had played a perfect game and no doubt impressed the panties off Cynthia.
“I’m preoccupied.” Reed slipped off his cleats and sla
mmed his feet into his sneakers. He’d done so little that he’d barely even broken a sweat. “Plus I thought I’d make you look good in front of the girls.”
“I don’t need your help with that. Trust me.” He laughed as he stripped off his T-shirt to change into a fresh one. “So I said I’d go with Cynthia and her sister to grab a drink somewhere. You should come since you’re friends with Darcy and all.”
“Friends is generous. We’re colleagues.”
Colleagues who happened to have incredible sex you can’t stop thinking about…
“Aw, come on, man.” Brad clamped a hand down on his shoulder. “You can’t leave me to battle the awkward family meet and greet on my own.”
“Actually, I can.”
“But you know the sister, right? She looked like she wanted to claw my face off when Cyn introduced us.” Brad’s voice had morphed into a soul-grating whine. “But the second you came over, she was all smiles and rainbows. Can’t you use your lady magic for good instead of evil, just this once?”
Lady magic? He refrained from telling Brad the first thing to do would be to lose the toddler voice. “You need a lesson in how to ask for a favor,” Reed said dryly.
“I’m begging, man.” He sighed. “I like this girl, okay? And I know I don’t always make the best first impression.”
“Or tenth,” Gabriel muttered as he walked past to catch up with the other guys who were already heading off.
“So you do like her?” Reed glanced to where Darcy and Cynthia were standing. “I thought she was just ‘a chick,’ or did I hear that wrong?”
“I like her enough to not be blowing her off right now to avoid the big, bad sister.”
Reed smiled. Darcy would love knowing he’d called her that. “Fine. But I’ll be collecting a return favor when the time comes.”
* * *
Darcy wondered what hellish kind of twilight zone she’d ended up in. She and her sister, along with Brad and Reed, were crowded around a small, round table in the middle of a noisy sports bar not far from Central Park. The Yankees were playing Toronto in an away game and losing. Badly. Which meant the crowd was not only noisy, but also angry.
“I don’t know what’s got into them this season.” Brad chugged his beer. “They shouldn’t be losing to the goddamn Canadians. It’s an embarrassment.”
“So what? The Mets won,” Reed said, a smug smile on her face. “That’s all that matters.”
A collective groan rose from the crowd as the Blue Jays outfielder caught a fly ball and ended the inning.
“Well, the AL East is the most competitive division,” Cynthia said. When Darcy raised a brow, she added, “Everyone knows that.”
“Since when are you into sports?”
Cynthia was not the average sports-bar patron, let alone someone who knew which division was the most competitive. Even now, she looked out of place delicately pushing her salad—dressing on the side—around her plate.
“I’ve always liked sports,” Cynthia said, shooting her a look.
Darcy tried not to roll her eyes as she gnawed on a chicken wing. As far as she was concerned, sports belonged with salads in that they could be classified as stupid things she refused to partake in. Having said that, it hadn’t been a chore to watch Reed on the field. Not only because she was able to admire his athletic body without him noticing, but also for the fact that she now had something to tease him about.
“So were you just filling in today, Reed?” She reached for her beer.
“No, this is my regular team.” He didn’t ask her why she thought that, probably because he’d already guessed she was looking to needle him.
“Might not have looked it today, but Reed’s played ball since he was tyke. Isn’t that right?” Brad said cheerfully. “Weren’t you getting scouted at one point? I’m sure Gabe told me that.”
Something dark washed over Reed’s face, hardening his expression. His lip twitched, as if some sharp response were trying to push its way out. “Yeah, when I was a kid. Obviously I never went pro.”
Darcy blinked. “Wow, I didn’t know that.”
“That’s because I don’t talk about it.”
The table fell silent and Darcy could have cut the tension with a knife. Cynthia stabbed at a lettuce leaf with her fork. “So, uh…Brad, why don’t you tell Darcy about where you took me for our first date?”
Darcy immediately tuned out as Brad dug into a very detailed account of how much effort he went to get a reservation at some fancy Manhattan restaurant. As an introvert and hater of both parties and small talk, she knew exactly the right spots to nod and give an interested mmm-hmm to give the appearance of listening. But she let her eyes wander over to Reed.
He looked so different outside work. Not that she’d assumed he wore suits on the weekend or anything, but seeing him dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, his hair mussed from sitting under a baseball cap, was scarily appealing. This outfit couldn’t hide the rock-hard muscles in his chest nor his washboard-flat stomach. Even the clingy sweats clued you in to what was underneath.
She reached for another chicken wing and bit into it. Maybe if she stuffed her face enough, she might be able to fill the void of dissatisfaction that’d been aching all week. But food wasn’t a replacement for sex…especially when she’d been woken up to the possibilities of how good sex could be.
How intimate and personal.
It’s not personal for him, you know that. He just knows how to make it seem that way.
“Isn’t that romantic?” Cynthia sighed. “And to think I would never have met you if I hadn’t crashed my car.”
“It was more of a bump than a crash.” Brad leaned over to her and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead before kissing her.
Darcy turned to Reed and made the motion of sticking her fingers down her throat. The return smile was quickly covered up when the lovebirds broke apart and he pretended to inspect something on the menu. Out of the corner of her eye, Darcy caught Brad’s hand sneaking under the table. A second later, Cynthia declared she had to go to the restroom, and Brad coincidentally had to make a phone call.
Which left the anti-lovebirds alone.
“Well, this is awkward as fuck, isn’t it?” Darcy said, taking a long gulp of her beer.
Reed’s laugh boomed over the din of the sports bar. “Glad it’s not just me.”
“How’d you get roped into coming along?”
He turned in his chair and shot her a cheeky look. “Apparently, someone seemed a little overprotective at the first meeting. I was brought in for reinforcements.”
“You?” She blinked incredulously.
“Why not me?” He planted an elbow on the table and leaned in closer.
The catch in Darcy’s breath was swallowed by the crowd’s raucous cheer. The Yankees must have finally done something right. “You’re not exactly the poster boy for polite conversation.”
“No, I guess I’m not.”
Up close, she could see the stubble lining his jaw, making the angle look even sharper and more devastatingly sexy. He was always smoothly shaven when she saw him, but this must be one more thing that was different between Work Reed and Weekend Reed. Curiosity niggled at her—she wanted to know more about this man who played baseball with his mechanic friends and didn’t shave. Who was Reed McMahon when he wasn’t working so hard at being Reed McMahon?
“You do know I can behave like a decent human being, right?” he said.
“But you choose not to?” She cocked her head as though giving the conversation serious thought. “Or does your definition of ‘decent behavior’ vary from mine?”
“That depends. Do you think what we did Monday night was decent?”
It couldn’t have been her imagination, but she swore the question rolled through her body flipping on every damn switch to every damn part of her. Especially th
e southern parts. It seemed fitting that a guy who was so good with his words was also so good with his mouth…and his hands.
And his—
“Cat got your tongue?” he drawled.
“It was adequate.” If she were the spiritual type, she might have been concerned about all the lying Reed encouraged her to do. There was nothing “adequate” about Reed or his skills in the bedroom. “No complaints.”
“Not exactly a rousing endorsement.” His expression said he didn’t buy her response one bit.
But she wasn’t about to give Manhattan’s most notorious womanizer the chance to reject her. She didn’t expect anything from him, so she wasn’t going to come across as some needy woman desperate for his love and affection…even if she might have been a teensy bit desperate for his body.
Maybe desperate was a bit much. During her relationship with Ben, she’d been starved for affection. So wanting a replay with Reed wasn’t exactly unexpected or unnatural.
Very logical. Good work, brain.
“You seemed to think it was more than adequate when you were screaming my name over and over.” His eyes raked over her, lingering for an extra few seconds on her mouth. “How did you put it? ‘Oh, Reed. God, that feels so good. Harder.’”
Darcy looked around them to make sure no one heard him mimicking her sex talk. The last thing she wanted was a When Harry Met Sally reenactment. “You’re too much,” she said, reaching for her drink and chugging the rest of her beer. It’d gone warm and didn’t have the cooling effect she’d hoped for.
“Thought I was adequate.” He looked smug as all hell.
“What’s the matter, Reed? Can’t handle it when someone isn’t falling over your feet to tell you how good you are?” She set her pint glass down with a loud clink. “You might be used to women who’ll act the way you want them to, but that’s not me. Sorry to disappoint you.”
Reed opened his mouth and looked as though he was about to retort when his gaze suddenly flicked sideways. “Oh, hi, Cynthia. Brad.”
Shit. How much of that interaction had her sister seen?
Bad Bachelor Page 18
