“I said I would.”
“We might need you to coach third, if you would. Andy has the flu.”
“Whatever you need.”
As they talked, the sinking feeling in Starla’s stomach turned into a black abyss. One thing had become staggeringly apparent on first sight: Shelly was quite possibly a more beautiful version of Macy. But she was a little thicker and had a bodacious ass.
Starla had never had hang-ups about her own ass, but suddenly she felt lacking in that area. Jared probably missed having that to grab on to. She wanted to throw up.
He didn’t miss it that much, or he would still be with her. Right? Suddenly, the other woman’s clear voice sliced through her agonized thoughts. Shelly was speaking to her.
“Hi, you must be Starla.”
“Yeah, hi. Nice to meet you.”
She had direct dark eyes, but honestly, Starla detected no hint of animosity there—and she was looking hard for it. “I know Ash and Mimi will be glad to see you,” she said. “They talk about you all the time.”
Wow, really? She was touched. Her gaze wandered to the girls, who hadn’t noticed her yet. They were warming up on the field now, chasing ground balls, ponytails bouncing. If Starla had seen them beforehand, she would’ve loved to put their team colors in their hair. “They’re awesome girls. I think the world of them.”
Shelly gave Jared a glance and moved closer to the fence, propping a knee on the bench to bring her face as near as she could. “I am so sorry about what you’re going through. I’ve been there. Maybe not like you have, but I know the fear. Anyway, you probably don’t want to talk about it, especially here, but I wanted to say that.”
Starla blinked twice, swallowing a lump in her throat so she could speak. “I… Thank you. Seriously, thank you so much.”
“Hang in there.”
“I will.”
Feeling scrubbed raw, she found an empty spot in the bleachers and sat on the warm metal by herself as the girls’ team came back to the dugout and Shelly began the impossible task of putting seven- and eight-year-old girls in lineup order. Jared walked out to take his place at third, looking entirely too fine with his ball cap pulled low and those jeans hugging him in all the right places. Ashley and Mia were both waving at him, calling, “Daddy! Daddy!” and the grin he flashed them started a small fire in Starla’s panties. Holy shit, he was a miracle worker to get her turned on while she felt like a slab of meat surrounded by bloodthirsty sharks. She might want to have his babies after all.
Nah.
“Are you and Jared dating?” asked the blonde woman beside her, who was dressed in a clingy, blingy T-shirt version of the girls’ jerseys. She had an equally blonde toddler sitting on her lap, a little girl whose ponytail ribbons cutely matched the team’s colors.
“Just friends,” Starla said.
The woman nodded knowingly, too knowingly, as if to say, “Well, of course, he couldn’t really be with you,” and it pissed Starla off. She bit down on the urge to say, Just banging on the regular. Not really true, of course, but it would be funny as hell.
The game started, and Starla had to repress a laugh at how the parents in the stands acted like the fucking World Series was being played out in front of them. So ridiculous. This whole charade was more for the parents than the kids, it seemed, but maybe she was just cynical. She’d loved playing, but she’d been thrown out of more games than she’d finished.
But then Mia came up to bat in her cute pink helmet, M STANTON written across her back, number eight. Her coach pitched her the first ball; swing and miss. Starla found herself calling out encouragement with everyone else. Jared had his hands on his knees, watching his daughter with a keen eye. “Elbow up, baby, you got this.” Fuck, he was sexy. To think she’d had that last night. She had to tear her gaze away to watch Mia again as she complied with his instructions, lifting her elbow higher. The next ball sailed way too high. She didn’t swing.
“Good eye!” Starla called, clapping. She noticed Jared look at her. He was probably wondering what the fuck she knew about a good eye. She had news for him: the reason she’d gotten thrown out of games was because she’d used softball as an outlet for her repressed, adolescent aggression. She’d played like a rampaging beast, and she’d been damn good at it. And she felt those old urges awakening in her gut.
Of course, she had to remind herself that these were eight-year-olds.
Mia gave the next ball a decent whack, and it sailed over the pitcher’s mound to drop into the infield. The shortstop scooped it up, dropped it, scooped it up again, and threw it to first—way too far to the left. Starla shot off the bleachers, screaming her head off. “Run, Mimi! Go baby go baby!” Mia hustled it to second, saw her dad waving her toward him, and took off for third. The runner ahead of her scored. By the time Mia reached Jared, the other team got the ball back to the pitcher, so he gave her the stop sign. They high-fived each other as Mia hopped excitedly on third base. Jared pointed Starla out in the stands, and the little girl waved to her.
Starla waved back and sat down, laughing—more at herself than anything else. She had a good view of Jared’s ass as he knelt beside his daughter to give her instructions, and she wondered how many other moms out here were admiring that view as well. Glancing around revealed, however, that most of them were looking curiously or amusedly at her.
“Mia’s a good hitter,” said the woman to her right with the little girl, who was getting squirmy on her mother’s lap.
Starla nodded, having known that just from noting Mia’s position in the lineup. “She’s cleanup. I can see why.”
“Pardon?”
Yep. Out here for the glory, not the game. “You want to put your power hitter fourth in the lineup, so they can knock the base runners home.”
“Oh. Sure.”
Ashley was next. With her first swing, she put the ball in front of the pitcher’s mound, so Jared held Mia at third while Ashley raced for first. The pitcher tried to run her down, but with her quick little feet, she made it easily.
Starla figured she would be hoarse tomorrow from yelling.
When the bases were loaded with Mia still at third, shit got real. The hitter dribbled the ball in front of home plate, but Mia had to go. When the other team’s pitcher had trouble scooping up the ball, though, Starla was on her feet again screaming encouragement to Mia, who probably had no chance of making it home before the pitcher got there with the ball, but still. It was a foot race. Both girls reached home. Mia clearly beat her.
“Out!” the umpire yelled.
What the fucking hell?
“Come on, Blue!” Starla yelled, an old fury erupting. “She beat her by half a step!” Pull your head out of your ass and open your goddamn eyes! Hopefully all the words screaming through her head remained there without erupting from her mouth, but she couldn’t be sure. Signs all over the park assured her that foul language would result in automatic ejection from the ballpark, but this was absolute bullshit. She wasn’t the only one protesting, but she was certainly the loudest.
Once the uproar settled somewhat, she sat down again, fuming. Jared was laughing his ass off at her. Shelly was even looking over with an amused smirk.
“You’d think it was the World Series, huh?” the blonde woman to her right said.
Goddamn right it was.
***
One on each side of her, the girls held Starla’s hands as they crossed the parking lot of the pizza joint they’d requested. Their warm little fingers clutched hers tightly, and she tried to tell herself this sensation of being right where she was supposed to be was horribly misplaced. Jared walked ahead of them to hold open the door, grinning down at his daughters as Starla walked past with them at her sides. Oh, that white smile, framed as it was with his dark beard and all the more gorgeous for the way it crinkled his blue eyes, would be the death of her. Last night hadn’t been far from her thoughts all day, but now, in his presence, the memories swamped her.
The waitress who greeted them was familiar with the family, apparently—Ash and Mia ran forward to give her a hug and tell her all about the softball game they’d just won—so naturally Starla received the thorough once-over from the cute blonde. Then a fight broke out between the twins over who got to sit in the booth beside Starla. It was finally determined by Jared’s coin toss, with Ashley the victor while Mia pouted across from them beside her dad. Jared consoled her by hugging her to his side, and Starla had to laugh at her little forlorn face. “Hey, cheer up, kiddo. She’s right there, and you can sit by her next time. Am I such bad company?”
“No, but what if she doesn’t come out with us again?”
Those heart-stopping blue eyes met Starla’s, shining warmly over the table. “Why wouldn’t she come out with us again?”
“Will you?” Mia asked her directly. “And will you come watch us play again?”
“I’d love to,” she assured her, and swallowed past a lump in her throat. Jesus, had anyone in her life ever wanted her around as much as these kids did?
“See?” Jared nudged Mia with his shoulder. “Done. Now you guys go wash your hands before we eat.”