Over the Fence: Lyssa Layne's Baseball Romances

by Lyssa Layne

  “Look, Miss D! We’re number one!” Sam shouts, lifting his hand inside the oversized foam above his head.

  Grey’s right behind him, doing the same thing. “Mom, the game was so awesome! I’m not washing my socks all season!”

  “Hey!” Jace laughs. “That’s not what you were supposed to get out of that story.”

  I watch the boys run by me as they hoot and holler like boys do. When I turn back to Jace, he’s got his hands shoved in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and looking like a kid about to get in trouble. It’s a softer, gentler side to Jace Richards that I haven’t seen before. His day old scruff mixed with the strong masculine cologne has my hormones stirring.

  We both start to talk at the same time then stop. He nods his head at me to go on.

  “Where’s my father?” It’s the only words I can muster right now.

  “He needed to stop for gas after we had dinner so I brought the boys home. I hope it’s okay that I hung out with them. I didn’t know your dad was bringing them when I invited him to the game.” Jace’s voice sounds apologetic although he really has nothing to be sorry about.

  I purse my lips, thoroughly confused. “You invited my dad to the game today?” Typical, just like my father to not tell me the whole truth. He’s always wanted to shield his baby girl.

  “Yeah, he’s been helping me with the whole coaching thing.”

  I narrow my eyes and mutter, “You could really use some help there.”

  Jace looks up, letting me see his crystal blue eyes and my hormones are no longer stirring, they’re running. Of all men to be attracted to, why does it have to be this jerk? I mean, why couldn’t I be attracted to the guy who stocks the produce at the grocery store and asks me out every time he sees me?

  He tips his ball cap back and takes a step toward me. “Look, I know you’ve probably read a few articles on the Internet and think you know me but you have no idea who I really am.”

  “Oh? Well tell me why you cheated on Colie Adamson? I love to hear why men think it’s okay to hurt the ones they love.” It’s completely out of line for me to mention that and it’s none of my business, but Adam hurt me, not just before but today with the possibility of losing time with Grey, and I’m all too aware that I’m taking it out on Jace.

  His body stiffens and when he speaks again, his voice is a low growl. “I was going to suggest we start over, be fuckin’ cordial since I am coaching your son, but forget it. I’ll see you at practice.”

  Jace turns around and storms off. As he backs out of my driveway, my father stands in the middle of my lawn shaking his head. “You’re being too hard, Laurel. The man is trying, he really is. You have to stop taking all your anger toward Adam out on other men or you’ll be alone forever.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not concerned about that, Daddy. You and Grey are the only men in my life that matter.”

  “That’s what you think now but when Grey goes off to college, you’ll be regretting that decision. Besides, I think Grey and Jace are good for each other. Your son respects him which is more than you can say about how he feels toward Adam. Now, as your daddy, I’m telling you to back off Jace Richards. Just wait, I think he’ll end up surprising you.”

  My father doesn’t lie but this is one whopper I’m going to have a hard time believing.

  CHAPTER 6

  Jace

  The computer screen glares back at me and I blink as my vision starts to blur. Digging the palms of my hands into my eyes, a yawn escapes me and I set the laptop on the bed. I feel like all I do these days is move boxes at work or stare at the computer screen. Chuck got me the names of the other players that have been screwed over by Earl Floyd. Between researching baseball drills and trying to figure out the correlation between Floyd and the players on the list, I swear I’ll get carpal tunnel before too long.

  I stand up and walk out of the room that Evan Purser grew up in. The walls are covered with football awards and newspaper clippings. It’s one of the few places in the house that doesn’t reek of stale alcohol. There’s no hiding the fact that an alcoholic lived here before. I’ve already ripped down the broken Christmas lights and with what was left after my first paycheck, I bought some paint to fix up the outside of the house.

  My muscles can already feel the burn from the brushing motion and I’m just thinking of it as a form of working out. I’ve set up an old, alcohol stained mattress against a tree in the back of the house so I can work on my pitching. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it until I was back in the groove and throwing more regularly at practice with the kids. Plus if I can prove some of these other guys are working with Earl, there’s a minuscule chance that the commissioner might hear me out and let me plead my case.

  The water runs out of the faucet and I unscrew the cap on my toothpaste. The fresh smell immediately reminds me of Laurel with her minty green scrubs that match her scent. I’ve never had a woman treat me the way she does, even after my banishment women still flocked to me and I couldn’t turn them away fast enough. After living in a world of self-hate for the last few years, this woman, of all that are out there, is the one that’s finally catching my attention. Maybe her extreme disdain for me is why I’m drawn to her because I know what it’s like to hate me and I deserve it.

  I run the bristles of my toothbrush over my teeth, replaying the two interactions I’ve had with her. Neither time was she wearing anything sexy or showing excess skin, but I could still make out her curves under the material. If I had to guess, I’d say she was a 34B and if I were to bet, I’d go 80/20. There’s been a plethora of women over the years and I’m probably as much an expert on bra sizes as I am throwing a slider. Despite her hard attitude, her face is gentle and those thin, pale lips are just begging for me to taste them.

  I finish my brushing and head back to bed, turning off the light. The second I close my eyes, Laurel’s light blue eyes flash across my mind, but I don’t open my eyes to lose them. No, I smile and let myself imagine what it might be like to kiss the Hot Shot. I push away the nagging thought that this is probably as close as I’ll ever get to actually doing it.

  Laurel

  Lights swirl around the darkness of the night as the boys run around the backyard playing flashlight tag. It’s the perfect time of year temperature-wise and even though it’s a school night, Ashley and I let our sons and Sam stay up late. They’re only little for so long and we both agree that we need to give Sam as many good memories as we can before it’s too late.

  “Ow!” Ashley yelps and jumps up and down in the dark beside me.

  I laugh and hold out my hand to help guide her to her wrought-iron chair. “You know the rules, Ash. No lights on during flashlight tag.”

  “I know the stupid rules.”

  She hands me the bottle of wine and I pour us each a glass. We sit in silence, listening to the barefeet in the grass and the shrieks when one kiddo finds another. This is childhood at its best.

  “Did you go see Jen?”

  I nod and continue to stare into the darkness. “Sam and I went to visit before we picked Grey up from Adam’s.” My eyes burn with moisture. “The doctor said she’ll be lucky if she has another six months.”

  I hear Ashley sniffle and I reach out for her hand. Sam’s mom, Jen, was our high school English teacher. She was the young teacher that was cool and hip, all the kids loved her. It just so happened that Ashley, Jen, and I were all pregnant at the same time. Of course, Jen was married and her pregnancy was planned while Ashley and I were just dumb kids who had condom issues, but Jen never treated us that way. She’s only six years older than us and we’ve practically raised our boys together. She got sick last year and the second her husband heard the word cancer, he got the hell out of dodge. As though cancer doesn’t suck enough, add a cowardly husband on top of that and it makes Adam look like an angel.

  “Laur, what are we going to do when…”

  Giving her hand a tight squeeze, I shake my head. �
�Don’t talk about that.”

  The sadness in her voice is replaced by a serious tone. “We have to! I mean, what’s going to happen to Sam? I love the kid, but my house is already full with three kids, two dogs, a cat, and a husband. For now, between the two of us, we’re making it work, but that isn’t a long term solution.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek, knowing what she’s hinting at. “Don’t think I haven’t played it out in my mind but…” I take a deep breath. “Adam and Bianca are getting married and moving to New York.”

  Ashley gasps and stands up, tugging on my hand and leading us inside where she can see me in the light. “What the fuck? What a bastard!”

  I laugh at her foul language now that the boys are out of earshot. “I had those exact same thoughts.” Tears fight to be released and my laughter disappears. “I’m scared I’m going to lose Grey. As much as I want to say that I’d love for Sam to stay with us permanently, I have to think about my own son first.”

  The tears fall down my cheeks and I feel like a total jerk. After all the support that Jen’s shown me over the years, when her son needs me most, I may not be able to help and it tears my heart in two. Ashley pulls me into her arms, cradling my head and rubbing my back.

  “Did Adam say anything about taking Grey with him? I mean, there’s no way he could. Right?” Ashley starts off sounding confident but ends with uncertainty in her question.

  Leaning back, I wipe my tears, hating to appear weak. “Not yet, but you know him, he likes to spring things on me when I least expect it.”

  Ashley straightens her shoulders. “Well, there’s no way anyone would ever take Grey away from you. You’re the best and no way in hell would Grey ever want to move with Adam.”

  I sigh. “I hope so but we’ll see…”

  The stairs creak and we both look over to see her husband, Kurtis, walking down the stairs. He’s wearing a pair of basketball shorts and no shirt, showing off his physique which is a little more soft than back in his football days of high school. Judging from the spark in Ashley’s eyes though, she could care less. Then again, from what she tells me and with three kids, I don’t think Kurtis’ lack of working out bothers her.

  “Evening, ladies,” he says with a wink and my cheeks burn bright red. I’ve known Kurtis since middle school and while I know everything about him thanks to Ashley, I’m still embarrassed by one little incident that neither of us have ever told her.

  Ashley quickly forgets about the news I just shared and turns her attention to her husband. A couple smacks later and it’s apparent that neither of them are coming up for air any time soon. I sneak back on the porch without either of them noticing and take a seat while the boys continue to play. From inside, I hear Ashley let out a happy shriek and giggle. I swear that woman is horny 24/7 and Kurtis doesn’t mind one bit.

  Closing my eyes, I try to think of the last time I had sex. After Adam and I divorced, there was a string of bad choices. One day, after waking up and wondering where my underwear was again, I decided it was time to stop the self-loathing and get my head out of my ass. I’ve gone on a few dates since then but none ever made it to the bedroom. It’s never bothered me though until recently, until a certain baseball coach wandered into town. Jace Richards is a cheater and I swore to myself that I would never date a cheater again. So then why can I not get the image of his lips moving all over my body out of my head?

  CHAPTER 7

  Jace

  Twenty minutes, she’s twenty fuckin’ minutes late. This woman is going to be the bane of my existence. I got snipped for a reason, I never wanted kids and the good Lord knows I’m the last man that should be anyone’s father. Grey pitches to Sam who sits behind home plate sending him signals that mean nothing. The ball goes wide, passing Sam and Grey drops his shoulders, disappointed. After retrieving it, Sam throws it back to Grey, encouraging him to try again.

  I sigh and stand up, walking out to the mound. I haven’t been around many kids, but these two are pretty cool. If I was guaranteed that my kids would’ve been anything like these two, I would’ve thought twice about the vasectomy, but at twenty-three when it was suggested by someone I trusted, all the reasons laid out before me made perfect sense. It wasn’t until Colie mentioned wanting to have kids that I began to regret my choice. In the long run, it ended up not being a big deal because I lost her and no one will ever love me the way she did.

  As I approach the mound, Grey looks up at me with anxious eyes. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Jace…you don’t have to stick around.”

  I scoff and shake my head. “No worries, dude. I don’t have anywhere to be. Besides, I can help you with that screwball you just threw.”

  Grey scrunches his nose, looking confused. “Screwball?”

  “Yeah, that’s what you were going for, right?”

  Grey stands there puzzled for a second then lifts his head. “Um…yeah, totally.”

  I tousle his hair and take the ball out of his mitt. “Alright. It looked like you had the right movement, but your fingers should be more like this.” I demonstrate how to hold the ball and he mocks what I do. After a few pitches, he finally makes it in Sam’s glove and the kid cheers for his friend. We work on a few other pitches before I call Sam to the mound.

  Sam jogs tentatively, unsure what I’m about to say. With a hand on each of their shoulders, I look down at them. “You guys make a pretty good pair. I’d like to try you out as a catcher, Sam. You do a good job keeping Grey in check and not letting him get too worked up. That’s one of the key components of being a catcher.” Sam’s eyes go wide and he nods with enthusiasm. “Now, we need to figure out some signs. I can signal to Sam from the dugout and then he’ll show you, Grey. You two have to learn to work together to read the batter and have a conversation without talking.”

  The boys stare at me intently and I squat to their level as we discuss potential signs. Once we all agree, I use my finger to draw in the dirt, explaining how to read a batter and when it’s best to use certain pitches. Sam and Grey ask questions excitedly, wanting to know more of the game, and I find myself sharing the same frenzy to share my knowledge as much as they want to gain it.

  “Hey…sorry I’m late!”

  The three of us turn our head and a breathless Laurel stands behind us wearing pale pink scrubs this time and giving off the same scent of toothpaste as before. I stand up and feel myself stirring in my pants. Quickly, I shift my weight to hide any effect she’s having on me.

  “Mom! You have to watch this!” Grey shouts and Sam runs to his position.

  “Jace, go in the dugout and let’s practice the signals!” Sam calls as he squats down and pulls on the catcher’s mask.

  Laughing, I motion toward the dugout in Laurel’s direction. “After you.”

  Her cheeks glow and she walks ahead of me. I wait just a second, getting a good look at her perfectly round ass and I have to stifle a moan. Laurel reaches the fence and turns around, almost catching me checking her out. I jog in her direction and turn back to the boys, squatting down and sending them a sign. Laurel stands directly behind me and the fabric from her pants brush against my leg. My skin ignites at the mere touch of her fabric and I close my eyes. I need to get laid if I’m going to have to see this temptress at every game.

  Laurel

  Every time, it never fails, whenever I need Adam to help me out, he’s always “busy.” Needless to say, when it comes to my kid, I’ll do everything in my power to take care of him, but unfortunately, times come up at work when I just can’t get away. It’s Wednesday which means that Ashley is playing taxi to her kids and I knew she wouldn’t have time to wait. Typically, I have the coach’s phone number if I’m running a few minutes late, but of course, since I technically haven’t formally introduced myself, I don’t even think Jace has my number, much less my name.

  I was both relieved when I saw him and the boys huddled together on the field and shocked at the same time that he didn’t appear to be fuming at my tardiness. Grey th
rows a few pitches and surprisingly, he actually makes it over the plate with as much control of the ball as a ten-year-old can muster. I love the way Sam encourages him, the two are adorable and it makes my heart break even more that I may not be able to keep them together.

  A breeze runs through the air and the mixture of perspiration and sandalwood hits my nose. I glance down at Jace balancing on the balls of his feet, intent on watching Grey pitch. Each time the ball hits Sam’s glove, he gives both of them praise or pointers, not sounding demanding or rude at all, instead he’s completely calm and patient.

  Lightly, I touch his shoulder and he turns his head to look up at me. “I’m really sorry about being late. I got stuck at work.”

  Jace’s gaze moves to my hand touching him before he shrugs. “No problem, the boys got in some extra practice. It’s all good.”

  He moves his attention back to Grey, telling him to get his fingers right on the ball. I pull my hand back and sigh, knowing I need to apologize to him for my rude remarks last time I saw him. “My ex hates when we’re late. It’s not a habit, but sometimes I get caught up with a patient at work…” I’m rambling, when I’m nervous, I can’t stop talking. It’s the worst case of word diarrhea and I never know when to stop.

  Jace rises for his squatting position and stands at his full height, at least six inches or more taller than me. His baby blues stare down at me and he’s right, I have read up about him, but the man in front of me looks nothing like the pictures I’ve seen on the Internet. Right now, in this moment, there’s a softness to him and he looks…genuine.

  “Well, sounds like your ex is an asshole. Life happens, sometimes you get stuck at work. It’s… no… big… deal.” The last sentence comes out slowly and deliberately as his eyes stay fixed on mine.

  My face burns bright red because I accused him of not having the common courtesy to show up on time and here I’ve done the same. I lower my gaze, staring directly at his chest which is probably worse than looking him in the eyes because now in addition to my embarrassment, my hormones are waking up and making my word vomit even worse.