April (Calendar Girl #4) (3 page)

I snorted. “Really? It changes everything.”

His voice was a growl when he responded. “How so? We’re still friends.”

“That’s true. We are friends.”

“And this thing with Gina, it’s totally casual, you know, we’re letting off some steam. She knows I’m not the relationship type. Well, at least not for her.”

“So you are for me?”

He let out a slow breath. “If I answer that honestly are you going to do something about it? I’ve given you that chance more than once. You’ve not taken it. We both agreed to take this year. Are you reneging on that now?”

A traitorous tear slipped down my cheek. Fucking hormones. “No, I’m not Wes. I just,” I let out a breath. “I guess I just didn’t expect you to move on.”

“What makes you think I have? Fucking Gina? Tell me you and Frenchie didn’t spend a month fucking after you left me?”

“Wes,” I warned and he cut me off.

“It’s true. This is no different. We’re not together officially, but you know I’d drop anything and anyone to be with you, but as cliché as it sounds…a man has needs too. I think it’s best we not discuss those.”

I bit down on my lip and sat on the bed. “No, you’re right. It’s incredibly unfair for me to have any claim over you when I’m not willing to give the same, but, Wes,” my voice broke and I couldn’t finish.

“Sweetheart tell me…please fuck, Mia. I’ll do anything to stay in your heart. Nothing has changed.”

He says that, but it’s not true. It’s like starting over again, my heart locked up tight in Pandora’s little box. “Just, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Mia, you’re always going to be on my mind, and when you’re ready for more and this thing between us gets a real chance…we’ll deal with it. You and me.”

“Yeah okay. Just one thing, Wes.”

“Anything sweetheart.”

“Remember me.” I said and hung up and powered down my phone. There was absolutely no way I could talk to him for one more second. I had a job to do and needed to put all my baggage in its case in the closet so that I could focus.

Mason Murphy, you better watch out. You’re about to get one helluva show.

***

Instantly, I was assaulted by the scents of hotdogs, popcorn, beer, and the ball field. For a girl like me, this was as close to Heaven as I’d ever been. Mason held my hand and led me through the underground tunnels of the ballpark. It was almost impossible to play the cool-card when he walked me through the locker room. Yes, the fucking locker room. Half naked, and some completely naked drool-worthy men were standing around shooting the shit, preparing for the game. If I was a different girl, I’d have covered my eyes or at the very least tried to play modest. Nope. Not this girl. I ogled like a pervy pubescent teen watching the older sexy neighbor girl changing clothes with a pair of binoculars through a set of blinds.

“Hey, Junior, I want you to meet my girlfriend,” Mason said to Junior Gonzalez, the starting catcher for the Boston Red Sox. I had a small fan-girl moment squeezing Mason’s rock hard bicep like I was ringing water out of a towel trying to keep my cool. He placed his hand over mine and patted it, looked down at me and gave me a wink. “Buddy, I think you’ve got a fan.”

The Hispanic man was big and muscular. The pants he was wearing stretched over tree-trunk sized thighs sending a wild flutter to the sensitive space between my legs. Junior’s hair was thick, black, and cropped short on top. His eyes were a chocolate brown, a stark contrast to the white of his smiling grin and mocha colored skin. “Hey, Mama, what’s shakin’?” he waggled his eyebrows, and I swooned. Straight up leaned into Mason’s side and sighed. They both laughed, but I just stared in perfect silence at the magnificence that was Junior Gonzalez. Best catcher known to baseball and one beefcake piece of perfection I call man.

“You’re amazing,” I finally stuttered. He looked me up and down then glanced over at his friend.

“You’re not so bad yourself. You want to skip right on over this schmuck and hang with a real man, sweetheart?” he joked. I knew he was teasing, because he didn’t make a move or gesture to bring me closer to him. Mason laughed.

I shook my head but wanted to do the opposite. Junior Gonzalez would be a nice distraction from my conversation and feelings over a certain blond haired movie-making surfer who was currently fucking a goddess with a body that men would fall onto a sword for.

“Mace tells me you’re uh, with us for the month?” His voice dropped and he tilted his head, those chocolate eyes sharing the knowledge of my true reason for being here.

“Yep, all month long.” I smacked Mason’s chest then rubbed it, pretending to be playful but really was anything but.

He winced and rubbed at the spot. “Easy there, tiger. I swear, the hottest chick they had at the escort service as luck would have it, isn’t an easy lay.” I wanted to him again at hearing those words.

Junior closed his eyes, dropped his head, and shook it from left to right. “Man, when are you ever going to learn you can’t treat a lady like a piece of ass? Girl,” he emphasized the word, “I hope you teach this boy a lesson.”

I winked and pushed Mason to move on. “I plan to.”

“Shee-it,” Junior snickered and turned away. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

“Lady Luck has never worked for me in the past. I can’t imagine she will magically start now,” I threw over my shoulder.

Mason scoffed. “Who needs luck when she’s got me?”

“Come on, honey, show me to my seat.” I said this saccharine sweet while rubbing along his side. He looped an arm across my shoulder and kissed my temple.

***

There is an interesting thing about baseball most of the general public doesn’t know about. A secret elite clique called the WAGs. Which stands for “Wives and Girlfriends.” Since we were running a tad behind, Mason dropped me off at the WAG section and bailed, putting a wad of twenties in my hand. Nothing says whore like dropping a handful of Jackson’s in her palm. Just for that, he wasn’t getting a penny back. I planned on burning all two hundred bucks on beer, brats, and trinkets.

I found my seat and sat down carefully, not wanting to bump into the gaggle of geese that were chatting a mile a minute. Even so, they made no bones about looking me over. Each chick was around my age, some a few years older or younger but no more than a five to seven year gap between us.

“Hey,” I waved to the line. Four heads swung to me. “I’m Mia,” I tried the friendly approach.

One girl, who I assumed to be the ringleader, leaned forward. “You Mace’s girl for the night?”

My eyebrows narrowed. “Um, no I’ll be with him all month. I flew in from Vegas. We’re old friends but working on more. This month will let us know whether we can go long term or not.”

A blonde sitting two seats over choked back a laugh. “Long term?”

The brunette ringleader twisted her lips. “We’ve never seen Mace in a relationship before. You know, he’s been the type to go the route of the three F’s.” She picked at her fingernail and then looked my way bored. “You know, finger ‘em, fuck ‘em, and flick ‘em off.”

“Wow. Well, that’s gotta suck for the bitches he’s fucked in the past.” I said nonchalantly, not letting her jab win.

A sweet-looking strawberry blonde with her hair in an adorable ponytail put her hand on my knee “Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t know Mace. I know him pretty well, and I have faith he can be committed to the right girl. I’m sure you’re probably her.” Her smile and voice reminded me of an angel. Kind pretty brown eyes.

I held out my hand. “I’m Mia Saunders.”

She took my hand and shook it. “Kristine but you can call me Kris. I’m with Junior,” her cheeks instantly turned a rosy pink. “We’ve only been dating for three months, but I’m head over heels for him.” She clasped her hands together on her lap and smiled shyly. “That’s why I know Mace. They’re like brothers. Well, except for Mace’s other brothers and Junior’s clan.”

I laughed. “Junior has a lot of family.”

“A lot doesn’t begin to describe it. Junior is one of nine siblings.”

“Wow,” I offered then saw a food vendor coming our way. “Hey, over here. I’m starved. Brat and a beer?” I asked.

Kris’s entire face lit up as if the sun had just shined directly on her. I could see the appeal for Junior. She was angelic and sweet. “Sure, thank you. That’s so nice. See, guys, Mia’s not a hoochie, she’s cool,” she noted to the other girls in our section.

“Jury’s still out.” The brunette said to the two women on her left.

I shrugged. “Whatever, I’m not here for them. I’m here to see my man kick some ass on the ball field. Between him pitching and Junior catching…we got this. Am I right?” I said to Kris, holding out my hand. She smacked it and whooped.

“Hey, my guy kills it on first!” said one of the women. “I’m Chrissy by the way,” the sexy redhead added.

“Good to meet ya, Chrissy.”

“And I’m Morgan!” A lovely light-brown haired gal added. The brunette grumbled, but obviously saw she was in a losing battle. I was winning over the WAGs. “This is Sarah,” Morgan hooked a thumb to her side. “She’s pissy because she and her guy, Brett, had a tiff over a groupie last night. He plays second base.”

I nodded. “Yeah, you’re guy, he’s hot. I could see how groupies would want to be all over him.”

Her bravado slipped away and her shoulders slumped. “This stupid skank had the nerve to come over and sit in his lap when I left to go to the bathroom. He didn’t do anything…well, much. He played around like it was all fun and games and held her hips and everything!” She scowled and then let out a screechy sound like an animal dying.

Apparently, connecting with a woman was easier than I thought. I only had Gin and Maddy, but my chick arsenal was growing. I now added Jennifer back in Malibu who was happily pregnant and of course Tony’s sister, Angie who was also happily pregnant, but this type of experience was new. Seems, if you talked shit about your man, you were all of a sudden in the clique. Hmmm. I took note of this strange behavior, let her complain, bitch, and then cry about how much of an asshole her guy was. By the end of the first inning, I was her new best friend. I plied them all with beers and brats with my free two hundred bucks and purchased myself a big red foam finger! It was an awesome finger. I was taking this sucker with me wherever I went. I loved it.

On the first strike out of the second inning, I jumped up and shouted at the top of my lungs with my foam finger. “Mason, you go BABY! That’s my man over there. Mason Murphy, striking ‘em out left and right,” I roared. And that’s when I heard the clicking. Several photographers had their big black cameras pointing in my direction. Show time. I blew kisses to Mason, and at one point, he took off his cap and put it over his heart then put it back on and struck out the next player. Had to admit, we were already good at this.

During the 7th inning stretch, Mason went back to the dugout only a few rows down from where I sat. The WAGs got damn good seats. I clomped my way down to where the dugout was just out of reach. Mason rose up on one of the wooden sides, and leaned over the railing. He clasped me around the neck and looked over at the cameras. He grinned and crushed his lips over mine. Again, he was a damn good kisser. We made it look good for the photographers, but in all honesty, there was no excitement, no twinge of heat, no wetting of the panties, just a nice kiss to a hot guy.

When I pulled away, his eyebrows narrowed. “This is doing fucking nothing for you huh? Way to wound a man, sweetness,” he purred into my ear and then pulled back, his green eyes focused on mine. They weren’t the green eyes I wanted to be drowning in right now.

I smiled wide, draped my hands over his broad shoulders, and clung to his neck. Then he flipped my hat backward, and I leaned against his forehead. “I’m sorry. It’s just I keep thinking about Rachel.” Which wasn’t all together true. I was sad for the shy blonde who obviously lusted after Mason, and there was definitely something between the two of them, but mostly I was heartbroken over Wes.

Mason cupped the nape of my neck, kissed my forehead, and pulled back. With a wink and smirk, he said, “Don’t think about her. I don’t.” His tone was full of bravado and lacked sincerity. “Later, sweetness.” I watched him go, pretending to pine after my hot baseball star and usually, I would. But I wasn’t feeling like myself. Ever since hearing Gina DeLuca’s voice on the other end of Wes’s phone, I’d lost a piece of myself. The drive I usually had bustling under the surface had fizzled to a dull ping, pushing me through the motions of my job.

It was unfair, completely ridiculous, to assume he’d wait for me especially while I was fucking whomever I wanted to. For me, though, when he came to Chicago on that whim, something had changed, and I thought perhaps I could wait
for him
. Sex was sex. I liked sex, every red-blooded American woman did. Sex with Wes though was more than an experience. It was life changing. Alec was amazing in bed; it was fun, sensual, exotic, and great at the time. I enjoyed my time with him immensely, but my emotions weren’t involved the way they were with Wes, and I feared that even though he said things with Gina were causal that she’d learn quickly what a catch he was and ultimately, I’d come out the loser. I guess it was in my cards. Doing what I had to do for my family had to take priority.

In the meantime, I’d focus on the job and maybe make someone else’s life better. Starting with Mason. He wasn’t a lost cause. I could see a gentleman hiding under all that swagger. Life had taught him to live in the present, and the money being thrown at him hadn’t taught him a thing about how to respect the people in his life. I wondered if he was truly happy. He couldn’t be if he had to hire an escort to pretend to be his steady girlfriend. I mean, there was a horde of women screaming his name, begging for his attention. I needed to find out more about young Mason. What made him tick, what made him the womanizer he’d been or, perhaps, pretended to be? Either way, I was here for the better part of a month, and I wasn’t going to squander that time away crying in my beer. No, I’d spend it slugging that beer back with a hot baseball player and his sexy as hell baseball friends.