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Come Back to the Ballpark, Maisy Gray (Comeback Romance Series Book 1) by Cynthia Tennent (14)

Chapter Fourteen

Maisy endured thirty-five minutes of donut talk from Zoom interspersed with sappy reminiscing from Kevin. She had no idea where Sam was. Come to think of it, Alexa had disappeared, too.

She couldn’t believe they had just had a cat fight in the bathroom. What an absurd cliché.

It was Alexa’s fault. If she hadn’t made the snide comments about Maisy and twerking, Maisy wouldn’t have lashed out.

Even so, Maisy was ashamed of herself.

For years she had daydreamed about getting even with Kevin’s supermodel girlfriend. Her imagination had provided all the requisite elements — tears on Alexa’s cheeks, apologies that Maisy wouldn’t accept, and the crowning moment — when Maisy held all the cards and Alexa would doubt Kevin’s love.

The reality of it provided no satisfaction. It was like finally getting to eat the double chocolate cake you’d saved, only to have it taste like sawdust. Her taste buds were dead where Kevin was concerned. The craving was gone.

She finished her third glass of wine and tried to imagine what life would have been like once Kevin’s pitching days were over. Without baseball in their lives, they would have been left reliving the glory days. Even worse, they would be strangers. Sadly, somewhere between little league and the major league, Maisy and Kevin had confused their love of baseball with their love for each other.

She ignored Kevin’s comment about how he requested his favorite Justin Bieber song when he warmed up because the beat helped him sync better with his pitching tempo and leaned across the table toward Tristan. “Do you know where Sam is?”

Tristan had been toying with the chocolate sculpture in the centerpiece. “I was going to tell you about that—”

Zoom spoke up. “I saw him leaving with Alexa.”

Tristan broke off a bird’s wing. He looked miserable. “Well…it was just that Alexa wasn’t feeling well.”

Kevin shrugged. “I hope she isn’t contagious. Wanna ride, Maisy?”

Maisy’s throat suddenly felt tight. “Is Sam coming back?”

“He s-s-said I should make sure you get back to the Commodore.” Tristan seemed tongue-tied. “His, uh…foot was hurting badly. He figured he should escort her home since he couldn’t last much longer.”

“That Sam, always taking one for the team. I’ll just have this.” Zoom reached for Sam’s untouched glass of champagne, ignoring Lorraine Waslaske’s censoring look. He’d had at least four drinks, most of them doubles. His cheeks were red and his eyes were glazed.

Lorraine smiled at Maisy. “Sam’s a nice young man.”

Veronica Zumaeta added, “And nice-looking.”

“Good thing I’m rich or I’d be worried.” Zoom laughed at his own joke. “You ladies love a good-looking man. That’s why I told Sam to use his looks to bring Maisy back no matter what. Even said he should sleep with Maisy if he had to.”

Tristan started choking and Fuzzy patted him on the back.

“Instead he came back with a broken foot.” Zoom patted the table, making it shake.

Maisy’s throat closed and her mouth went dry. She was picturing Sam in the paddock with his nice shoes and linen shirt. That night in the upstairs hallway when he had nibbled on her neck. His sweet talk on the porch swing and later on the way back from Comeback.

And last night.

Abruptly, she stood up and grabbed her things. “Let’s go, Kevin.”

“What?”

“Take me home.” She yanked his tuxedo jacket off the back of his chair and started walking.

Kevin followed her, pausing occasionally to shake people’s hands as he breezed through the lobby and had his car brought around. He didn’t question her mood as she stared out the window of Kevin’s sleek Mazda MX-5, barely listening to him rambling on as he steered her through the streets of Indianapolis. She kept going over how she had thrown herself at Sam last night. It must have been a great bonus when she’d torn off his clothes. And tonight? No wonder he had barely paid any attention to her. His job was done. Maisy had come to the stadium and the gala. The fans and Zoom were happy.

When they finally pulled up in front of the Commodore Apartments, Kevin put his arm around her shoulder. She had worked herself into such a temper that she had forgotten about him.

“Maisy, do you think we should give it a go again?”

As much as she wanted to slap his hands away, she didn’t. It was his pitching arm and he wasn’t the source of her anger anymore. As a matter of fact, she felt sorry for him. Kevin’s life was never going to be as happy off the field as it was on the field.

“We were so good together, weren’t we?” he asked.

She put her hand on his hairy cheek. “Kevin, do you remember reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland when we were reading buddies in school?”

He leaned closer. “Aww, Maisy, you know I’m not much of a reader. You always just told me what the books were about.”

“That’s right. You were more of a CliffsNotes kind of guy.” They shared a laugh, though Maisy knew they were each laughing for different reasons.

“You should try to read more, Kevin. You missed a lot of good books when you were younger. It would be good for you.”

“Not as good as you are, Maisy.”

“Oh, Kevin…” she sighed. “Here is a quote for you from Lewis Carroll. It describes exactly how I feel right now. ‘It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.’”

The Maisy who’d loved Kevin years ago, the young, adoring girl who thought he was the sun, moon, and air…that girl was gone. She felt nothing for Kevin now.

He crinkled his nose. “Huh?”

Of course Kevin wouldn’t get it.

She gave him a gentle kiss. “So long, Kevin.”

***

A West Coast ball game was in extra innings on Sam’s seventy-inch television screen. He should be focused on the team the Turbos were playing next week. Instead, Sam hovered over the balcony of his apartment, waiting for Maisy to reply to his text.

The ride home with Alexa had been awkward. For a model, she wasn’t a pretty crier. She gulped and sniffled her way through the story of her encounter with Maisy in the restroom — a soap opera description of two women fighting for the man they loved.

The sharp throbbing in his temples wouldn’t quit. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that he had known the score when he got involved with Maisy. She had a man in her past who was stuck to her like a shadow. Nothing was going to change that. Sam had done his job. He’d gotten Maisy to the stadium. He had pleased Zoom. The fans were happy. Kevin had earned a reprieve for now. The team’s profitability was on the upswing. Everything had happened as planned.

How many times did he have to tell himself that before he believed it?

Even if he still wanted Maisy, he couldn’t have her.

He hadn’t felt this low in years. Not since before his dad had left. Not since Sam had admitted his father would never be the kind of father he wanted him to be.

Dad had always been difficult. Still was, actually. He’d had trouble holding a job. Always wanted more money. Chronic back pain and meds mixed him up. But even before the back pain, Dad had always focused with razor sharpness on Sam. Dad would lecture Sam for hours about what he needed to do with himself both on and off the field. Nothing Sam ever did satisfied him. Maybe he was more like his dad than he knew. He should be happy. But it didn’t feel good enough.

Sam checked his phone. No response. Alexa’s conversation echoed in his mind. He’d done the right thing in leaving early. There was no reason to second-guess his actions tonight. Still, he wanted to make sure Tristan got her home safe.

***

Seven floors up, Maisy sat on the balcony and hit send.

Her message was short: Kevin gave me a ride.

Let him think what he wanted. It would serve him right if he thought she had moved on…or back…or whatever.

Zoom’s words echoed in her brain. Sleep with her if you have to. Evidently, Sam took his job very seriously.

He’d manipulated her into coming to Indianapolis. And then he’d made it all look so seamless. A check for school supplies. A bottle of tequila. A gift card for a shopping spree. A supportive hand as he led her out to the suite balcony so she could wave to the crowd.

If she knew which apartment Sam lived in, she would march to his door and give him a piece of her mind right now.

Maisy kicked off her shoes, tempted to toss them over the balcony. What kind of idiot was she for once again falling for a self-centered man who put baseball above her? Oddly, she felt more burned by the man she’d known for a few weeks than the one she’d known for more than a dozen years.

She slipped out of the gorgeous gauzy dress and left it crumpled on the bedroom floor. What a waste. She had no desire to ever see it again. Tomorrow she would rent a car and drive back home. Good-bye, Indianapolis. Farewell, Mr. Hotshot General Manager.

Part of her bristled at the thought of skulking out of town like a wounded animal. She’d already done that once. Kevin hadn’t been worth it then. And Sam wasn’t worth it now.

Why couldn’t she be like all the other strong women from Comeback? Instead of treating her like a four-leaf clover, they’d name a town after her.

Maisy punched her pillow and waited for the sun to come up. By the time it finally did, she’d made up her mind. She was Margaret Mary Gray. She was strong. She was proud. And she was leaving town on her own terms.

***

Sam walked into his office after a long meeting with the local television network over broadcasting rights. The details had been laborious, and his mind had been on other things. Namely, Maisy and Kevin. And the dream about a sinking ship he’d had last night. He’d been left dog-paddling in icy water while he watched the two lovebirds drift away in a lifeboat named Comeback Glynnis.

Making a mental note to delete his mother’s Titanic-themed ring tone, Sam threw the meeting notes on his desk and dropped down in his chair. He jumped up when something sharp bit him on the backside. “Ouch!”

“Poor boy, did you hurt your tush?” Sam whirled around at the sound of Maisy’s brittle voice. She stood against doorframe, staring at him with hard eyes.

Confused, he gazed from her to his chair, where her sharp-heeled shoes from last night lay on top of a pile of clothes. Not understanding her intentions, he asked, “What do you want me to do with these things?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you should try them on. You weren’t impressed when I wore them.”

“That wasn’t why—”

“Although Kevin certainly liked them.” The acid dripped from her tongue.

Something must have happened last night if Maisy was this mad. “If Halderman hurt you, I’ll make sure he pays.”

“Kevin?” She let loose a feminine roar as she stalked toward him. Were those ninja blades in her hand? She slapped them on his desk, overturning a stack of folders, and he realized they were her earrings from last night. “Kevin was all over the idea of the two of us getting back together. And it’s your fault!”

A crowd of people loitered in the hallway. Sam tried to pull Maisy away from prying eyes. “Come in and let’s talk about this civilly.”

She snatched her arm away. “Now you want to talk to me? Now?” Maisy poked him with her finger. “You didn’t want to talk to me earlier. Oh, sure, you wanted to kiss me. At least that’s what you said in the limo.”

Tristan suddenly appeared outside the door. He pushed the crowd back and Joanie deftly closed the door. Now it was just the two of them…and paper-thin walls. The least of his problems.

“Would it have been so hard to compliment me or talk to me or even dance with me?” She waved her hands in the air and Sam ducked, afraid there were more sharp objects in her grasp. “Forget that part. Your plan was to throw me at Kevin last night, wasn’t it? You made us eat at the same table and then you even had me sit next to him.”

“That was Zoom—”

She clamped a hand over his mouth. “Shut up! I am doing the talking right now.”

“Okay,” he mumbled through her fingers. He couldn’t figure out if he was scared or incredibly impressed.

“And to make things worse, you let me dance with him? And then sent me home with him. Are you trying to get me and Kevin back together so the team can have a permanent good-luck charm? Or do you want Alexa to yourself? Another man of mine she—” She stopped herself and dropped her hand.

His mouth curved despite her anger. Man of mine had a nice ring to it. “I thought you wanted to dance with Kevin. You two were smiling like kids on the first date.”

Her eyes grew wide. “You pawned me off on Kevin because I smiled at him?”

“No. I told Tristan to make sure you got home if I wasn’t back. I wasn’t pushing you at Kevin.” It sounded so weak, even to his ears. Everything she was saying was true. But it was twisted. In his mind, Sam had been doing it for her. Giving her a chance to be with the guy he thought she still cared about.

Maisy balled her fists on her hips. “What about what happened between you and me the night before? Didn’t that mean anything to you?”

“It was a mistake— I mean, I saw the way you two danced and assumed you thought it was a mistake. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Half-truths. He was an asshole. Which was why he didn’t deserve her.

“Why should I believe anything you say considering you lied to me since the moment we met? You manipulated this whole thing. You knew I would come back to Indianapolis all along. Your little drama about how you couldn’t drive your car—”

“I couldn’t!”

“Ha! If I hadn’t seen the X-ray, I’d even think your fractured toe was a sham. What about the part where Zoom told you to sleep with me? Don’t try to lie to me.”

Sam opened and shut his mouth. He had completely forgotten about that comment. How did she hear about it? Damn, Zoom! What an idiot.

“That was a stupid suggestion. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Except that you did sleep with me.”

“It was your idea—” Oh. shit. Wrong thing to say.

Her face turned an odd shade of purple and her hands fisted. “Does that mean you weren’t interested?”

“Of course I was, but you— I thought you wanted…” How could he explain that she was too much for him? He couldn’t have her in his life. He was doing it for her.

“I wanted what? After I slept with you, I’d suddenly want Kevin again? Is that the kind of thing you think I would do?”

“I didn’t know whether you would do that or not…” That proved to be the biggest mistake of all. He thought about it often in the next few days. The words had come out, but he hadn’t meant them. Just a few short days of knowing her had told him one thing. Maisy Gray was the most honest person he knew. She was not the kind of woman who would ever give herself to someone when she was with another man. He’d blown it.

A muffled scream rose from Maisy’s throat.

“Wait—” He stepped forward to explain.

“Good-bye, Sam!” Maisy barged past him toward the door.

He moved to follow her and forgot about his bad toe. He lost his balance and landed on his desk, scattering meeting notes, a protein bar, and a bottle of Whammo.

When he recovered, she was gone. Shit.

He lay back and stared up at the ceiling and once again ticked off all the reasons he was doing the right thing. The Turbos were hot. His boss was happy. The fans were thrilled. Tickets were already sold out for the next home game. And Maisy would find a good man who was worthy of her.

He still felt like shit.

Sam crawled off the desk, feeling like an old man. Tristan and Joanie peered through the doorway, darting nervous glances his way.

Sam scooped up the earrings, her dress, some sort of slip, and her pink shawl from his chair. He shoved all of it into Tristan’s arms.

“What do you want me to do with this?” asked Tristan.

“I don’t give a damn,” Sam said, limping back into his office. He slammed the door so hard the drywall rattled.

Hushed voices in the hallway told him that his staff had heard everything. He didn’t care half as much about them hearing Maisy’s brilliant tantrum as he did about the fact that she was gone. Damn.

For the rest of the day, he went through the motions of caring about the budget and advertising and ticket sales. But he was so tired even Whammo did nothing for him. Sam’s chest felt tight. He couldn’t breathe. Maisy had sucked everything out in her wake.

Sam couldn’t even find the energy to care about his Fitbit that showed zero for today’s activity count. Moving was pointless. Nothing mattered.

Even baseball felt…less. Just less.