The Lies We Tell Read online

  I looked down there to see Chase taking his catcher's gear off. He was laughing with another player and looked tired from four hard innings of baseball in the Florida heat. He didn't appear to be in pain, though.

  “Chop-chop, Becca.”

  I realized that I hadn’t moved. Chase hadn’t looked like he was ready or even needed me. What did Gary want me to do? Chase wasn’t going to appreciate me interrupting him on Gary’s word. But, oh well.

  I slowly started walking down the dugout, passing Kace and giving him a forced smile as I passed. He just smirked like he knew I was walking toward my demise. But to his credit, he still hadn’t acknowledged our friendship and made no exception today. He just turned and started talking to the guys around him.

  I finally got close to Chase and schooled my face with disinterest. “We need to stretch.”

  “The hell we do,” he retorted when he realized I was there.

  “Gary called me out here because you said you felt tightness on that last throw, let me do my job.” I was cool, I was calm.

  “I can handle it.” Did he not remember our deal? To let me do my job.

  “No, I have to do as Gary requests.” I gave him a wide-eyed “do it” look. It didn’t work.

  “Shoo, Princess,” he said, turning away.

  Oh no the hell he didn’t.

  “Chase, I swear to God if you don’t get your ass out there, I will rip your balls off. And stop calling me Princess.” I tried to keep a scornful tone to my voice but lowered it so the whole dugout didn’t hear me.

  Chase turned back and his eyes were huge; a disbelieving smirk sat on his lips. The other guy Chase had been talking to, Keith Sanders, a new relief pitcher, was also looking at me like I had lost my damn mind.

  But I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to let Chase dismiss me, especially not in front of everyone. I stomped out of the dugout and down the foul area where I knew the players stretched and cooled off after they came off the field. The game was still going, but this was spring training, so no one cared if players used the foul area as needed.

  I just hoped I was stomping in the right direction. My tantrum would have lost its impact if I had to turn around and go somewhere else. But Gary said “down the field” so that is where I was going.

  As I walked, I stayed close to the wall where the fans sat. I was intimated by the field with the other team out there, so I attempted to stay away from it. But being close to the fans wasn’t any better.

  “Who the hell are you?” Someone shouted.

  “Get off the field you ugly troll!” Someone else yelled.

  “Booooo, bitch girl!” They just kept them coming.

  It didn’t go unnoticed by me that they were all female voices. I am sure they were the kind of fans that were here for the guys and not the game.

  Whatever. I shook my head slightly and kept walking. Now wasn't the time to try and figure out why women spoke to one another with such disdain.

  After two more steps, I heard the voices again, this time upbeat and happy, and not directed at me.

  “Chase!!!!”

  “Can I get a pic?”

  “Chase over here!”

  I didn’t dare look back, I just assumed Chase was now behind me. He damn well better be.

  When I got to the end of the foul line, I stopped, turned, and placed impatient hands on my hips. Chase had stopped and obliged the fans with a few autographs and pictures. I didn’t mind waiting for that—that is what spring training was all about. But those girls were glaring at me like they won a competition that I didn’t know we were playing.

  Meanwhile, I was just glad Chase seemed to be heeding my warning about tearing his balls off and followed me out.

  After a few more minutes, I heard him say, “Gotta go before Lady Goliath down there tears me apart.”

  I turned away and smiled. Lady Goliath. He said it with reverence and without an ounce of malice. It sounded like a pet name and not an insult. Way better than Princess considering who he was talking to. I swear I wanted to kick his ass and be his best friend all at the same time.

  When I got the dumb smile off my face, I turned back around to see him approaching.

  “Damn, Cupcake, you did better than I thought you would, with the whole balls comment and all.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What?”

  “What do you mean I did better than you thought I would? Were you expecting my tirade?”

  “From the time I came in the dugout and asked Gary to get you, yes I absolutely was.”

  “You asked for me? Why the hell did you give me so much shit then?” I raised my voice a little too loud and almost forgot there were fans and cameras and people everywhere.

  “Calm down, I thought it may be fun to have someone to hang with while I stretched. And, this shows Gary I am getting your assistance. And,” he held up a finger to stop me from talking so he could finish, “you just used your anger with me to show every single guy in that dugout not to fuck with you. It’s a win-win-win.”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I said, but was smiling, again, at his logic. “Are you even feeling tightness?”

  “Um, no. I lied.”

  “Of course, you did….” I trailed off as Chase laid down in the grass. He started the routine I had taught him this morning to help his knees. Then I reminded him to do his glutes, quads, and core as well.

  “Get my hand,” he said, as he angled his body away from me and brought his arm toward me. I took his hand and pulled, earning a groan from deep in his throat. Then we did the other side. The same groan falling from his mouth. Shit, it was heated—down deep and full of pleasure. I had to stand up just to shake off the flush it had given me.

  The groan, not the stretch.

  “Jog up the line and back and I think you’re good until tonight,” I suggested. Without even arguing he did as I said and finished up. When he was all done, we started making our way back to the dugout together.

  A few fans yelled again, but nothing too bad. Chase ignored them this time and walked side by side with me. Somehow, having his attention gave me a sense of pride. I felt invincible to the girls that wanted to hate on me for being here but wanted his attention on them.

  I even gave a loud laugh at nothing. He looked at me confused, wondering what I was laughing at, but I just shook him off.

  Don’t ask me where this pettiness came from, either. I was a ‘women should empower women’ kinda girl but fuck them for being nasty toward me simply because I had a job.

  Once we were through the dugout and down the hall, I stopped. “I have to get with the other guys, but you need to meet me tonight at 7, we will work on the machines and rub some topical on your knees.”

  “Yes ma’am,” was his only response, so I kept walking toward the training room. But before I made it through the double doors he added, “I’ll bring dinner, Princess.”

  Chapter 10

  Chase

  Day one of the 'Becca and Chase Pact' was officially underway. Truthfully, I probably shouldn’t have had her come to the field on the first day of games with a crowd around us. But I couldn’t resist. And even though she threatened to rip my balls off, she handled it pretty well.

  I had gone back to the hotel to rest for a bit before grabbing us some dinner and making my way back to the stadium. She was already there, probably hadn’t left since the game ended. A small part of me felt guilty for making her stay late and help me every night, but I didn’t have any choice. I needed her.

  So, I vowed to make it as easy on her as possible. Starting with the six different meals I had the hotel prepare and wrap up to-go. I didn’t know what she liked so I just got a variety.

  I was carrying them in each hand when I approached the doors to the training room. I gently pushed the swinging door open with my foot and paused.

  Becca had her back to me, dressed in a sports bra and the smallest pair of shorts I had ever seen. She had one arm bent over the top of her head and
was leaning to the side in a stretching motion. I bit my lip to keep myself from groaning at the erogenous sight in front of me.

  I had said it once, but I would say it a million more times, she was by far the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I couldn't stress that enough. Her long, dark blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and her skin looked flush like she had been sweating. I wanted to creep on her a little longer but the sound of the bag ruffling as I walked closer made her jump around.

  “Shit, you scared me.”

  “Sorry,” I said, chagrinned at being busted lurking.

  She made her way to the table and grabbed a t-shirt from a bag, pulling it over her head. “I just got done with my own workout, it’s the only time I can squeeze in any self-care.”

  I blanched at her sour mood but powered through. “I brought dinner, though.”

  The bite in her features softened a little, “Thanks, Chase, I am starving.”

  “Look I know this isn’t ideal, but I will try and make it as easy as possible.”

  “Like calling me onto the field and subjecting me to nasty fan girl remarks on the first damn day?”

  Wait, what?

  “What do you mean?”

  “Those girls you were taking pics with, they were downright nasty with me when I was walking out there alone. That is why I laughed on the way back to the dugout. They were less bitchy when you were next to me. Not wanting to show you their true colors I guess.”

  “Oh shit, I didn’t even realize that. What did they say?”

  She waved me off and let it go, “Nothing. It isn’t worth my ire. I am just so tired. It’s been a long day.”

  I let it go, too. But those girls were regulars so I silently told myself I would pay more attention to any catty remarks toward Becca. No one was going to make her crazy, except me. That was my job.

  “Want to eat first?” I asked and held up the two bags I had.

  “Absolutely,” she breathed out the bitter tone I had heard in her voice a few seconds ago.

  I laid out the spread on the table in the corner of the room. It was the only surface in the training room that could host a dinner for two. It was also the only corner of the room that the emergency lights didn’t hit. So, I opened my phone flashlight and set it up on the table to glow between us.

  “Thanks for the food.” Becca was softening more and more as she ate. “Don’t eat too much, though. You are about to do 20 minutes on the treadmill in there.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I smirked.

  She smiled and shook her head at me again. I realized she did that a lot when she deemed something ridiculous. And without a doubt, she thought I was ridiculous.

  “So,” I hedged, “tell me about yourself.”

  She looked up from her food with a questioning look, “Is this a date, Chase?”

  I scoffed, “No.” Maybe. “I just thought since we are spending so much time together, maybe we should know each other."

  She studied my intent for a minute before answering me. “Ok then. I am 27, an only child, parents died, no friends, studied at Washington State, live in Marietta, and obsessed with carrot cake.”

  She was lying to me. Don’t ask me how I knew but I knew. So I gave her some lies right back. “Hmmm, well I am 29, have 6 brothers and sisters, parents are still married, went to Oklahoma University, live in Atlanta, and I am obsessed with chocolate donuts.”

  She dropped her fork and shook her head again, “Lies.”

  “Yeah? How you figure?”

  “Because google told me you were 33, an only child, mom passed away a few years ago, you went to Auburn University, and, well, you probably live in Atlanta and love donuts.”

  My mouth was gaped open in disbelief. Not because she was right, but because she googled me. I was at a disadvantage here.

  “I call bullshit on you too.”

  “Yeah? How you figure?” She repeated my exact question.

  “Your eyes aren’t dark enough to have lost your parents. They’re not lonely enough to have spent a lifetime alone, either. Which means you have friends or siblings keeping you company. You could have studied in Washington and you may live in Marietta, probably even love carrot cake, but I’m not wrong about the first two.”

  She forced a smile and took another bite before speaking again. “I’m 27, one younger brother and two older sisters. Parents are alive and well. I studied in Athens and live in Marietta. And yes, I love carrot cake.”

  I didn’t respond but I am sure my eyes were asking her why she suddenly got real with me.

  “Just thought I would even the playing field,” she finally said. “It’s not fair that I can google you.”

  We ate the rest of the meal in silence, though it wasn’t awkward. This is where the term comfortable silence was born.

  After we finished, we went into the room on the other side of the glass windows, where the equipment was. She started me on the treadmill, as promised, and then moved me to a leg lifting machine. My knees were screaming at me, but she assured me I had to get through the pain to strengthen them.

  Once that was done, she rubbed an icy-hot ointment on me and wrapped gauze around them both to hold in the burn. We shared a ride back to the hotel and all was done.

  But I didn’t sleep. Not even a wink.

  I took a cold shower, tried to channel “Bubba” again, and watched every late show I could find. I played on my phone, I googled myself, I listened to music. I tried everything. But the only thing I could do was think of Becca in those shorts.

  The sweat around her hairline.

  The flush of her skin.

  Her tone legs.

  Her deep eyes.

  Fuck it.

  I grabbed hold of my hardened dick and let that image take me over the edge. I needed this. There was no way I would get through these days without some sort of release.

  I could have easily grabbed anyone and used them for a few hours in my bed. But that didn’t feel right. Not when Becca’s body was the only image I could manage. Not when she was the one causing me to feel the uncontrollable arousal.

  ◆◆◆

  The next few days were the same. Early mornings, four innings of baseball, Becca on the field with me, and late nights in the training room gym.

  I always brought dinner and we always ate under the light of my smartphone flashlight. As the days passed, the soft lighting got more and more intimate. It was like we were having candlelit dinners every night.

  Our conversation was getting more intimate too. I didn’t dare tell her about my dad, but I did talk about my mom and her death—a heart attack. She talked about her parents a little and her sisters. She steered clear of mentioning her brother, so I assumed they weren’t very close.

  By the end of the week, she asked me something I didn’t want to talk about, nor did I want to lie to her about either.

  “What makes this year so special? Why not just cop up to knee issues and fix them? I don’t get it.”

  Of course, she didn’t.

  I barely did.

  I knew I let myself down this past offseason. I didn’t condition the way I should have. I had something to prove to myself. I knew that as long as I was playing, I didn’t have to deal with my dad. I knew that baseball was my life and as I got older, my playing days were numbered. I wanted to soak up as much of it as I could.

  None of that was something I wanted to admit to her, though. Those were my weaknesses and I didn’t want her thinking I was weak.

  “120 million,” that was the simplest truth. I would never hurt for money; baseball had been very good to me. But becoming the highest-paid catcher in the history of the game was a big deal to me. I wanted it bad.

  “Dollars?” She asked.

  I nodded, “Yep. That is how much I am worth after this season if I stay healthy and on my game.”

  “Holy shit,” she said in awe, “You must like money.”

  Ouch!

  “I like the respect that comes along with i
t, that’s for damn sure.” Another truth. When you got paid the big bucks, the whole league looked at you through an ethereal light.

  “I see,” she wiped her lips with a napkin and threw it on her to-go box. “Let’s get to work then.”

  “What? Not going to give me shit for how much I love money?”

  “I’m not going to give you shit for how much you crave respect. That I can relate to.”

  “Touché,” I said as I stood and got ready for the workout. It had only been a week, but I was making progress where my knees were concerned. I was in pain, but Becca was making it possible to power through the pain during games. Although, I was about to start playing more than four innings a day, so things could get more interesting.

  But I could handle it.

  What I couldn’t handle was the way Becca kept looking at me tonight, like she was a lion and I was her lamb. Since allowing myself the release, it had been easier to keep the "boners” at bay but that was going to shit fast as I jogged on the treadmill tonight.

  “Stop, Princess,” I warned.

  “Stop what?” Her lips were moving, but eyes stayed in place. “Stop looking at my dick.”

  Her eyes bolted to my face, “I wasn’t looking at your…. thing….”

  “Yes, you were.”

  “Well shit, Chase, it’s just bouncing around and shit.”

  I nearly fell off the treadmill as I stutter-stepped at her words. I brought my arms down to brace myself from falling and slowed the treadmill to a crawl.

  She just shrugged, “Didn’t you give me some speech the other day about how we were only human?”

  I laughed and stopped the treadmill altogether. There was no way was I going to be able to keep going. “Come on, let's change the scenery.”

  She didn’t even question me or stall, she just jumped from her spot, “Thank God.”

  I guess she thought we were going back to the hotel because she started packing her bag up. But that isn’t what I meant.

  “Leave your stuff, come on.” I instinctively grabbed her hand to guide her toward me, and when she didn’t fight me, I held tight. We walked from the training room to the locker room, and down the hallway toward the dugout.