Playing the Field

by C. J. Pinard

  Playing the Field

  (Duty & Desire Series, Book 4)

  By C.J. Pinard

  Copyright 2015 C.J. Pinard

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover design by Kellie Dennis @ Book Cover by Design

  Cover models: Nathan Weller & Tessi Conquest

  Photography by Kelsey Keeton of K Keeton Designs

  Dedication:

  This is for every member of the military and their families who have served or sacrificed themselves so we could be free. Thank you from the bottom of my patriotic heart.

  Acknowledgements & Author’s note:

  This final book in this series was probably the hardest for me. One little story about a shy single mother who falls for a swoon-worthy military guy was supposed to be a single short story. Well, that’s what happens when a writer tells herself it’ll be short and sweet. Same thing happened when I wrote my paranormal series – one book turned into four. It seems my imagination runs away from me, while I struggle to catch it. This final book is very special to me. I really felt that you, the reader, needed to hear Jace’s voice. He’s got a story to tell, and much as I thought you got all you needed in Miranda’s book to get to know him, I realized we didn’t really get to know him much at all. Jace is a little damaged, but well-rounded, ambitious, and has all he’s ever wanted – except true, passionate love. As he discovers, love is a choice, but sometimes it just sort of chooses you instead. I really hope y’all love his story. I also felt you needed to hear the end of Riley & Cara’s story, and you will get that here, too, along with a little surprise for you guys with regards to them. If you haven’t read the first three books in the series – I highly encourage it!

  Next, I need to thank a few people for cracking the whip at my back while writing this.

  Emma Shade – my sounding board, my cheerleader, my sprinting partner. Thank you for your honesty. I don’t need BS’ers in my life. I need real people, and you, my friend, are as real as they come… sweet, and just the whole author package.

  Lisa (LR Potter), thank you for keeping romance in the air. Your encouragement was much needed and definitely appreciated. You know you’ll always be my girl.

  Christie (C.M. Owens)… you hold the whip which has lashed at my back, telling me to stop dicking around and just write. I want to be you when I grow up.

  Thank you, Reese Hardin, for being my USMC soundboard and not laughing at my stupid questions. I didn’t want to disrespect the branch, and your help’s been invaluable. You’re a lifesaver, brother.

  Lastly, to the fans who’ve fallen in love with this series and these characters – I really hope you enjoy the ending, and that I’ve done the characters and the series justice.

  Love you guys! ~C.J.

  Chapter 1

  The bat cracked loud in my ears as it made a fierce connection with the fastball that had been pitched at me. Jared Davenport was our best pitcher, but he was no match for my wicked swing and expert eye.

  I briefly caught his smug face as I tossed the bat away and tore off toward first base. Dirt, chalk, and a clear, blue California sky passed me in a blur as I pumped my arms and legs, headed for my first goal.

  My foot pounded over the puffy white bag of first base as I barely acknowledged it, since my eye was on my next target: second base. That too came easily, as I controlled my breathing to time with the beating of my heart. Third base was so close I could feel it. I shouldn’t have, but I craned my neck back to see where the ball was. I could see the outfielder sailing it with all his might toward third base and I upped my speed. I slammed into the bag a split second before the third baseman caught the fly ball into his glove. I knew I was still safe, though, so I threw him a dimpled smirk and bolted toward home.

  The third baseman pitched the ball toward home and I knew I had to beat that ball to the base, so when I was about six feet from my prize, I pushed my left foot in front of me and slid on my side until my dusty cleat reached the prized plate. A gloved hand slammed down on my leg, but the hind catcher was too late. I was safe – and he knew it.

  “And the lawman steals home!” He laughed as he pushed his mask up off his face.

  I brushed the dirt off my hands and shook my head. “I didn’t steal it.”

  “Whatever, dude,” the hind catcher said, going back to his place as I made my way to the dugout.

  This was just practice, but I took every one of them seriously. The other guys on the team held some sort of competition thing within themselves at all times – and I admit I was guilty of it, too – but all the macho, testosterone-fueled banter and attitudes sometimes got old.

  I thought back to my deployments when I was on active duty in the Marine Corps. Had that been any different? Not really. Too many dudes crammed into a small space without the soft femininity of emotions to balance out our attitudes and hard edges.

  This minor league team I was playing for had picked me up out of college, and I’d been with them for about a year. It was something I never thought would happen, so when I was offered a spot on the team, I was shocked.

  I’d been playing ball since I was a kid. My dad had me in T-ball right after I learned to walk, it seemed. This baseball thing, though, it was more of a hobby if I was honest. I loved it for the exercise and camaraderie of being part of a team, but I knew it wasn’t a career. In fact, I’m pretty sure the scouts were shocked to learn that I was already 25 years old when they signed me to this contract. I didn’t exactly go to college right outta high school.

  After a couple of short innings, I was broken out of my musings. “Lawless, you’re up again!” a voice said.

  I stood and walked over to my place at bat. Grabbing the nearest bat, I stood on home plate as I looked Jared in the eye. The hind catcher began to shit-talk, but I ignored him. The guy was seriously restless and had ADHD or something. He never sat still or shut up, and I wondered how he managed to stand still enough to catch a fly ball from the outfield.

  From the wicked gleam in Jared’s green eyes, I could tell he was planning another evil throw, but I was ready for him. When his talented arm threw a curveball at me, I hit it perfectly, sending it sailing into the right outfield. As I rounded second base, I watched with amusement as the right-fielder dropped the ball after it slammed into his glove, and I casually jogged my way to home plate.

  I heard feeble cheers and claps and looked into the stands to see a few girls sitting in the stands, cheering and yelling, “Jace.” They’d obviously somehow snuck in to watch us practice. Not that that was anything new, I’d seen it quite a few times. I just gave them a short wave, which elicited more whoops and hollers from them.

  ***

  Jared clinked his beer bottle against my water glass as we sat in the corner of our favorite sports bar. “You ready for the big game this weekend?”

  I shot him an incredulous but confident smile. “Of course I am.”

  “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve myself. Been practicing my curveball,” he said right before pressing the bottle to his lips.

  “I can tell,” I replied dryly.

  He nudged me. “Hey, you didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Which means I need to practice even more.”

  “No, I’m just awesome and
take anything you throw at me.”

  “You’re a cocky asshole, Jace.”

  I just laughed and used my glass to indicate one of the TVs. “The Giants just scored. Again.”

  He directed his attention to the screen while I directed mine to a couple of blondes who had just walked into the bar. They weren’t dressed like sports fans, but fans of players instead. I watched as they sidled up to the bar and ordered wine.

  Oh, brother.

  One turned around after receiving her glass and pressed her lips to the clear glass. She had curly blonde hair and was wearing too much makeup and a very short skirt. But of course I didn’t mind. She had awesome legs. Her mouth paused at the drink as she caught sight of me. Then she smiled and elbowed her friend, who looked a lot like her.

  I slid my eyes away from her and looked at my friend, casually saying, “Groupies at twelve o’clock.”

  Jared moved his gaze from the TV screen to the bar, then back to me. “Definitely.”

  We consciously ignored the blondes until they approached our table about five minutes later. They were both holding wine glasses in that snooty way like they were on an episode of Basketball Wives.

  “Jace Lawless, oh, my God,” the taller one said with a big smile.

  I looked up slowly and casually. “And who are you, sweetheart?”

  She put out a perfectly manicured hand for me to shake. “Amanda. And this is Chelsea.” She pointed to her friend, who had a big, goofy smile on her face.

  “Nice to meet you, ladies,” I released my hand from her soft grip. “I’m sure you recognize Jared Davenport.” I pointed at him before taking a drink of my water.

  “Oh yes,” Chelsea replied, batting her fake eyelashes at him.

  “Mind if we sit?” Amanda asked.

  I made a dramatic gesture of looking at my watch. “Well, we were just leaving. Sorry.”

  Her face fell, and I felt bad. Kinda. “A picture then?”

  I nodded. “Absolutely.”

  She asked a passing waiter to snap a photo of the four of us with her phone, and beamed when she swiped the screen to look at the photo.

  “Thank you so much!” Amanda squealed.

  “Anytime, darlin’,” Jared replied, and I had to resist rolling my eyes.

  The girls went back to the bar to finish their drinks.

  I looked at Jared. “Guess we better get going so we don’t make liars out of ourselves.”

  He nodded and set his beer down. “Game’s done anyway.” He pointed to the screen where I could see the Giants were whipping the Yankees 5-0.

  Jared said goodbye with a fist-bump and got into his overly large pickup truck, while I fished the keys to my Mustang from my pocket and hit the remote to disarm my blue beauty.

  I rumbled out of the bar’s parking lot and headed for home. On the drive back, I mused about the girls in the bar and chuckled to myself. What was the appeal? I was a minor league player who’d been with the team for about a year. I was a nobody, yet occasionally in public I would get stopped and asked for autographs and photos. It amused me mostly, but it wasn’t something I’d understand. If I played for a major league team I’d get it, but I guess people were obsessed with anyone who held any sort of local ‘celebrity’ status.

  Before I knew it, I arrived at my apartment. I parked in my spot and went inside, tossing my keys onto the entryway table. I unzipped my hoodie and went into my room, throwing it on the bed. Looking at the bedside clock, I saw it was close to 10 p.m. Today’s practice had taken a lot out of me. I took a quick but hot shower and slogged into bed, more exhausted than I thought possible, and was out as soon as my eyes slid closed.

  I lay awake, staring at the ceiling of the barracks. Between the pops of gunfire in the distance and the loud snoring of my bunkie, there was no way I was gonna get any decent sleep. Which would totally suck come tomorrow when I had to be on duty.

  Rolling over to my right side, I folded my pathetic excuse for a pillow over my left ear to try to drown out the noise. It was little use, and I tried to let my mind drift off to something pleasant so I could try to make myself get a little sleepy. A peaceful grin found me as I began to think about her flowing brown hair, glossy pink lips, and infectious smile, and as I began to feel a calmness blanket my body, a loud noise rocked the building I was in. I was slammed back to reality. A burning smell filled my nose. Screams and shouts began to fill the two-story building and I bolted out of bed on high alert. I grabbed my pants from my foot-locker, throwing them on, and hurried out of my room, along with my bunkie. As we raced down the stairs, we were greeted with a wall of flames and screams…

  I sat upright and gasped. I swiped my hand over my face. Dammit! These nightmares, or flashbacks, or whatever they hell they were, were annoying me. I should be used to them by now, but I really wasn’t. In basic training I had learned that the United States Marine Corps would always be with me – like a part of the blood that ran through my body – but little did I know the drill instructor had meant both the good and bad of the Marines.

  But was it really the Marines I had to blame for these dreams? No, not really. It was the ugly reality of war that I had been sent into as an innocent teen, and had come out of as a grown man who would never be the same.

  Chapter 2

  This was the game of the season. The stands were packed to see if their local minor league team would make it to the playoffs. The pressure was on, but I didn’t feel it much. I wanted to be the best hitter I could be for the team, and I’d love to help take us to playoffs, but I wasn’t going to succumb to pressures that made half the dudes on this team strung-out.

  It was the top of the ninth, and I could already tell that the pitcher of this other team was a cocky bastard. He had that smirk that made me want to fold his teeth back with my fist. But instead, I smeared on my own overconfident smile and twirled the bat in my grip as if I could handle anything he threw at me.

  With lightning fast speed, he sailed the ball in my direction, but I was able to hit it perfectly. I threw the bat behind me and tore off toward first base. The thought that my brother Dalton and his friends were in the stands was in the back of my mind, and I picked up speed.

  It was another easy homerun. The other team’s outfielder wasn’t fast enough to throw it and I made it to home plate without a whole lot of effort. I briefly glanced up at the stadium’s giant electronic screen, ‘JACE LAWLESS’ and the word ‘homerun’ flashing. I just laughed to myself.

  As my foot slammed down on home plate, I resisted the urge to do a little dance like the football players do when they reach the end zone, instead walking carefully and coolly to the dugout. I was met with multiple high-fives and fist bumps.

  I glanced at the scoreboard – we were beating this team from Southern California 4-1 and I almost wanted yawn, as I knew we had this in the bag. I was anxious to get into the locker room and shower, because the team’s manager had scheduled us to do sort of a public relations thing at some club downtown. I really wasn’t into that scene, but it was in that contract I had signed that I would attend PR functions, so tonight I was booked.

  I sat on the bench a few more minutes, and then went out for high-fives and handshakes after we won the game like I’d predicted we would. Jared Davenport caught up to me on the way to the locker room.

  “You going to the thing tonight?” he asked through the gum in his mouth.

  I shot him a look. “Uh, yeah, I mean we kinda have to.”

  He elbowed me as we both walked through the door to the smelly locker room. “Don’t want to, huh?”

  I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t care much either way. It’s not like I have a hot date.”

  He snorted and pulled his sweaty shirt off, tossing it into a nearby bin. While I was more lean-cut and streamlined in my physique, Jared had more a big, buff quality to him, especially his shoulders and arms, where I knew he could lift more than I could. Being a pitcher required not only strength but lots of muscle. He had both, an
d while I wasn’t jealous, sometimes I wished I could get a bit bigger than I was.

  We both hit the showers, and Jared continued to talk, and I continued to listen, and this was the routine we were in as friends. I was sorta quiet and liked to listen and take in my surroundings, but Jared never shut up. I didn’t mind it, though.

  “So, she can’t even handle my away games, texting and calling constantly. And then has the nerve to say we should be married already,” he shouted over the loud, echoing spray of the shower.

  “Uh huh,” I said, encouraging him to continue so I wouldn’t have to make a rude comment about his annoying, yet smokin’ hot girlfriend.

  I could hear him turn off the shower and I did the same. We both grabbed our towels while he continued to talk, the small concrete barrier between us. I toweled off my hair as I looked him, but I could only see his head.

  “She’s beautiful, but she’s smothering me.”

  I wrapped the white towel around my waist, letting it hang low on my hips as I brushed a hand through my short, wet hair. “Well, personalities don’t fade like looks will.”

  He nodded in understanding as we walked back to the lockers.

  I pulled my duffel bag out and began to dress in a pair of jeans and a fitted black T-shirt with a popular sports logo on the chest. Jared didn’t say anything else, so I walked to the sink with my bag and brushed my teeth. I then slicked my hair back with some goop as best I could since it was so short. It was both messy and put together at the same time, and I glanced over to see Jared was dressed similar to me, his green shirt a bit tighter than mine, but it matched the color of his eyes and I was pretty sure he had planned it that way. The designer jeans fit him about as well as mine fit me, and after slapping on some aftershave, we both walked out of the locker room and into our cars. I followed him to this club downtown where the event was taking place.