Over the Fence: Lyssa Layne's Baseball Romances (48 page)

Jace

It’s so fuckin’ hard to concentrate in this house with the rank smell of stale beer attached to every piece of furniture. The scent is atrocious but the fact that Camila told me to stay away from alcohol only makes the putrid odor that much more tempting. Thank god I’ve started pitching again so I have some kind of stress reliever although from the ache in my shoulder it’s obvious I took too much time off. From the moment I was banned from the MLB, I vowed I’d never pitch again but now that I am, I realize how much I’ve missed it.

I close the lid on the laptop and set it on the couch. I’m about to go cross-eyed from all the YouTube videos I’ve watched about baseball practices. I know I fucked up at the first practice by showing up late. My new boss at the hardware store refuses to let me cut out a few minutes early, but at least I get a decent discount so I can start fixing up a few things around this place. Most of the parents seemed impressed that I was the new coach, which gave me a boost of confidence that I’d lost. I’ve come to face the facts that I won’t be pitching professionally again so I intend to put all of my baseball efforts into this Little League team, even if I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

After that first practice, I broke down and called Evan’s mentor. He’s in his sixties and reminds me of my elementary school teacher, straight down to the polyester Rawlings shorts and terrible combover. The man goes by the name of Coach and judging from the amount of people that said hello to him during the hour we were at the local diner, I’d say he’s well known. This town isn’t small by any means so I was actually impressed, not to mention he’s won almost twenty state high school football championships during his career. Football, baseball, or synchronized swimming, Coach gave some great tips for running practice and building a team.

I was completely unprepared for the first team meeting and only had batting practice. I couldn’t help it, once I started getting warmed up, this urge to keep throwing took over. The kids got nothing out of it and judging from the hot brunette mom on the bleachers, she was less than thrilled, but no one said anything to me, other than what a huge fan they were and how unfair my punishment from the MLB was. The old Jace would’ve agreed and made a scene about it, but I got what I deserved so I politely nodded and got out of there as fast as I could.

After two practices, I’d determined that the best player on the team, Grey, might belong to the brunette. She’s the only parent not to introduce herself yet, giving off the mysterious vibe. Her and Grey have matching blue eyes, the same hair color, but the kid is already almost as tall as her at five feet, five inches. From the bleachers, this woman glares at me the entire practice, her eyebrows drawn in and her lips in a straight line, but the second she’s with her son, a beautiful smile comes to her face and the harshness in her eyes is replaced with a look only a mom can have. The woman is beautiful with either emotion but when she smiles, something within me wakes up.

Back in the day, I was a womanizer to say the least, a different woman, or two, in every MLB city and never the same one. To me, women were just another material object like everything else in my life, except one woman—Colie Adamson. She was my best friend in college when I dropped out because of an injury and when I found her again, I thought I had it all. And for a brief, fleeting moment I did. I had money, power, fame, and the woman who owned my heart. The day I lost her was the day I concluded that my life was entirely too fucked up, even for me.

So no matter how hot and tempting this brunette mom is, I have to stay away. I don’t want to hurt anyone ever again the way I did Colie. Not to mention there is no way I want to be anyone’s daddy, even if her kid might have the potential to play in the big leagues one day. The decision I made at twenty-three to have a vasectomy is the only right one I’ve ever made.

Laurel

My car door is open before the key is even out of the ignition. Another Saturday at work and I’m late to Grey’s practice, if it can even be called that. Jace Richards as a coach is nothing but a joke. Practices have basically turned into pitching practice for him and the other parents are so enamored with him that they don’t even mind. I don’t know about the rest of them but I signed my son up to play baseball, not for him to shag balls for an exiled professional pitcher.

I jog to the field, knowing Grey hates when Adam is the only one of us watching him. As soon as I get to the bleachers, Adam is standing up, his eyes fixated on his phone. “About time you showed up, Teddy.”

My cheeks flush and I glance around, trying to see if anyone heard him, but they’re all staring at the “coach” on the field. “Keep calling me that, Adam, and I’m sure I can think of a few nicknames to call you.” Cheater, scumbag, asshole aren’t even the names I’m referring to.

Finally looking up from his phone, he steps to me, one hand pinching my waist as he kisses my cheek. “You going to be home tomorrow? I wanted to talk to you about Grey.”

My stomach twists and worry sets in. “What about him?”

Adam smiles, knowing he has my attention. “We’ll talk later.”

He steps around me and saunters off. I hate when he does that and he knows it. When it comes to Grey, I’m a tiger momma and will do whatever I have to to protect him, especially from his father. His Range Rover pulls away and I tell myself he probably just wants to switch weekends with me, it’s nothing to be concerned about.

“Come on, Sam! Pay attention!”

Jace’s deep voice pulls me away from my worries and I turn my attention to the field. Sam, already introverted, stares down at the batter’s box as Jace chastises him in front of his peers. Jace gives a few more directions before standing up and pitching to him again. Sam barely tips the ball, sending it sideways and I’ve had it.

Marching through the dugout in my mint green scrubs, I step onto the infield and pick up the foul ball. “Hey,
Coach
,” I yell, mocking his title. The man barely has time to turn in my direction when I hurl the baseball at him, putting to use my fifteen years of softball experience. Jace reacts quickly, lifting his arm and catching the ball with little effort. I march across the field to him and stop an arm’s length away.

“Wow, nice arm, Hot Shot. Guess we all know where Grey gets it from?” Jace says the words with a cocky grin on his face, making me dislike him even more.

I shove my finger in his chest. “Who the hell do you think you are? You walk on this field like you’re God’s gift to baseball.  You don’t even have the common courtesy to show up on time!” Three practices in and he’s yet to be punctual. I was late today but one minute after ten and Adam was blowing up my phone, complaining about his precious time being wasted.

His jaw clenches, showing off his perfect facial structure and I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Look, lady, I’m doing the best I can, alright?”

I throw back my head and laugh. “This is your best?”

“You think you can do better? Go right ahead, Hot Shot.” Jace drops the ball in my hand and steps around me. Shocked, I turn and watch him stroll off the field. I bite the inside of my cheek as my body reacts to the way his muscles ripple through his clothes. Ashley is right, he’s every bit of baseball god and my body wants to be sure that I know that.

CHAPTER 4

Jace

My foot presses harder on the gas pedal, trying to get me to Viera and the Diplomats’ spring training camp. I know Camila told me to stay away from this place but that mom really set me off. When I stepped onto that field on the first day of practice, for once since I’d fallen from fame, I felt like a superstar again. The way the parents and players looked at me in awe brought back the confidence I’d lost and not the cocky, arrogant kind. No, it reminded me of when I played ball at Loyola and we’d run summer camps. Every kid stared at us like we were their role models. If only I’d have kept that mindset then I wouldn’t be where I am today, but that wasn’t how the cards fell.

Then Hot Shot stepped on the field and knocked me down a few notches, reminding me that I’m nothing but a loser and she obviously doesn’t want anything to do with me. Not that I want anything to do with her either although the woman definitely sparked something in me I hadn’t felt in a while, even wearing those green scrubs and smelling like toothpaste. That minty smell is still teasing me as I drive along the highway and I can’t get the image of her flaring nostrils and bright blue eyes teasing me out of my mind…or pants.

Twenty minutes later, I pull into the empty parking lot and sigh. I should’ve checked the schedule before I made the drive. Well, I’m here now so I better check things out. I climb out of the old beat up Ford Explorer that Camila arranged for me to use. Standing up, I roll my neck. The SUV is almost twenty years old and not built to accommodate a man my height. Still, it’s better than walking all over town and at the rate that Buddy Dunn pays me for working at the hardware shop, I might have enough to buy a used ten-speed Schwinn by the time the Little League season is over.

A giant sign at the front of the stadium reads, “Home of the Washington Diplomats.” Walking past it, I pat my hand on the faded plywood, remembering the first time I played here and the nerves that hit me when I saw this sign. I didn’t want to let anyone down. Hell, I couldn’t let anyone down, but in the long run, that’s exactly what I did. I peer through the locked gates and stare at the playing field, the memories of cheering fans and teammates run through my mind.

Before I get too lost in my old glory days, I take a few steps back and walk down the sidewalk. I’m pretty sure there’s a fence toward the back of the stadium that I can scale. I just want to get on the mound and throw a few pitches for old time’s sake. If I’d known the last time I was here was it, I would’ve savored my time more.

I find the fence that’s maybe a foot taller than me and easily make my way over. Before I find my way onto the field, I walk through the dugout and laugh out loud at jokes and comments my teammates and I shared here. I run my hand under the far side of the bench and sure enough, my tallies are still there. As a rookie, I would dig a line into the bottom of our seats for every strikeout I had. Each season afterward, I’d run my fingers over the indentations as a reminder of what I had to live up to.

In the far corner is a bucket of balls, the pitching team was always too lazy to put anything away. I grab the handle and walk out to the mound. Halfway through the bucket of balls and I’m in the zone, firing one fastball after another. It isn’t until the lights flip on, taking me by surprise and blinding me as they do. I cover my eyes with my forearm to block out the brightness.

“How’d you get in here?” An angry voice booms over the loudspeaker.

I smile when I recognize the high-pitched male voice, only one announcer in history has a voice like that—Chuck Landers. Turning to face the booth that he always sits at, I wave my hand. A minute later, the short, bald man appears and shakes his head at the sight of me.

“Jace Richards…what the hell happened to you?”

I shake his hand before doing the half-hug, pat on the back thing that’s customary among men. “Million dollar question, isn’t it? How’ve you been?”

He shrugs. “Not too bad but geez, the Diplomats’ games are now boring as hell to announce without you on the team.”

I laugh. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment but I’ll say thanks.”

Chuck and I move to the dugout and take a seat. “You always kept the games lively, never a dull moment that’s for sure. Now it’s just batter up, batter down, game over.”

I stare at the dirty floor beneath me. “Yeah, well, maybe if I hadn’t been such an asshole, I would still be playing.”

“Come on, Richards,” he pats my leg, “I’m not an idiot, I know what was happening and you’re not the only one.”

I snap my head up. “Seriously?”

“Yep, not all of them are as flashy as you were so they probably won’t get caught.”

“He’s gotta be stopped, Chuck. You know any names?”

“I can do some digging and see what I can come up with. Not like the Diplomats have a promising season ahead of them so I should have some time to do research.”

Hope dangles in front of me. If I can bring down the asshole that killed my career then maybe, just maybe, I might have a chance of getting back in the game. Camila was right, this is just another at bat and I’m going to take full advantage of being in the box.

Laurel

“Bye, boys! Have fun and behave!” I call out to Sam and Grey as my father backs his truck out of my driveway. My dad’s taking them for the day and I’m going to have the whole house to myself. After work, baseball practice, and my son being thoroughly embarrassed by my actions yesterday, this momma needs a day of rest and relaxation.

The guys aren’t even gone twenty minutes when I’m sinking into a bathtub full of bubbles. I take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of strawberries as the bubbles consume me. All the stress and tension flow out of my body and when my fingers are good and wrinkly, I drain the water. Wrapping a towel around my body, there’s a knock on the front door. So much for an afternoon alone…