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ANDIE
“And you told me fucking my boss was a bad idea,” Lasha said by way of greeting when Andie answered the front door. “It allows me the freedom to ditch work when you have a love-life crisis—two days in a row. So, lay it on me, sista.”
“I took Katie’s advice and faked my period.”
“I bet that was a lot less messy than the real thing.” Lasha helped herself to a beer from the fridge and hoisted her butt onto the counter. “I’m all ears, did he pass the stupid-ass test?”
“He was great. He—” Andie started to tell her the details, but suddenly what happened between her and Mason seemed too intimate to share. “He got an A-plus.” And several bonus pluses for what went down in her bedroom afterward. “I told him the truth, but I thought he was too deeply asleep to hear it, except…when I woke up, he was gone. He usually stays for breakfast. And when he can’t, he leaves a note. He, um, didn’t this time.”
This newsflash didn’t move her best friend. Lasha would gag if a guy she’d taken to bed left a cute, sappy note like the ones Mason had been leaving her all week. Knowing Lasha, she’d prefer gift cards.
“Shame he didn’t last your full two weeks of kidlessness.” Lasha shrugged. “We’ll hit the strip later and find you a new bed-warmer. Now that you’re back in the game, men will be lining up to be on your team.” She took another long drink before hopping off the counter. “Pick you up around seven-thirty? We’ll grab some dinner and drinks before hitting the dance floor.”
For years, Andie had envied Lasha’s free-spirited lifestyle. The conveyor belt of men passing through her bedroom. All the stories about hot, wild sex—Andie had believed the thrill came from the variety of partners. And maybe for Lasha, it did.
Sex with Mason got better every day. Same or different, wild or tame, all of it rocked her world. Even when they weren’t naked, or on their way to being naked, he excited her. On the skin and all the way through. She’d rather keep him than trade him, if she had the option.
“I’m supposed to be going to Mason’s baseball game tonight. At minimum, I want to talk to him before I run off for a night of slutting around.” The idea of which gave her a nauseated twinge. “I’m not sure where things stand.”
“Honey, I can see the hearts and stars in your eyes from ten feet away. Remember your game plan for after the divorce? Freedom, fun and fucking. This little crush on rebound boy will fade as soon as there’s a fresh, hot body to rub against. Trust me.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” she said, feeling her nose grow about three inches. “But I don’t like loose ends.”
“Do what you need to do.” Lasha sounded bored as she stopped at the mirror to refresh her lipstick and pop a breath mint. “Text me when you’re done. Oh, and wear those red fuck-me shoes you got online. Every guy with a working cock will be yours for the choosing.”
* * *
ANDIE
Mason’s game started in twenty minutes. The diamond his team was scheduled at tonight was a fifteen-minute drive from her house. From experience, Andie knew he liked to arrive early for some warm-up throws. Easy math, this. No calls, no texts, no show, plus no breakfast together this morning and no note. The sum of those things was one blow-off breakup. After all the sweetness and attentiveness he’d shown her, he’d up and ghosted her.
Sheshouldcut her losses and go out dancing with her man-magnet best friend. Perhaps find a hard man to get slippery with. But no, she was going to crash a Friday night rec-league ball game. Wearing the red fuck-me shoes. Such was the extent of her plan.
The game was underway and his team was in the field when she arrived. Small blessing, since it meant she didn’t have to walk right up and get communicative. She found a spot on the end of a bleacher, close to the backstop, putting the first move in his hands. He could easily come talk to her, wave, nod, etcetera. And if he chose option D, to ignore her, she could escape without leaving too much of her dignity in foul territory.
She knew immediately that he’d seen her. Okay, so she was hard to miss in this particular red t-shirt, skintight black capris andthe shoes. More than that, though, she’d caught the jerk of his head as soon as her heels had hit the grassy area beside the fence, sensed the heat of his eyes as they followed her to her seat. But when she looked back at him, standing tall and strong at first base, his focus returned to home plate. As for everyone else assembled to watch the game…she had their full attention.
His opponents couldn’t buy their way on base, and Mason’s team soon came in from the field. Minus Mason, who had the first at-bat. His line drive into the gap for a double was powerful and exciting. Like him. He stole third, then tagged up on a deep fly ball.
She cheered for him openly with each play. If he had a problem with that, he’d have to come over here and tell her so. Only he didn’t. After slapping a few hands—hersnotincluded—he took over as third-base coach.
A woman bouncing a baby on her knee slid across the bench. “Don’t take this as terribly catty, but I think he’s avoiding you.”
“Thanks, I was wondering.”
The woman’s mouth opened and closed silently.
Oops, that hadn’t come out quite how Andie intended. “Oh, I didn’t mean it sarcastically. Really. Any input is appreciated. I’m Andie, by the way.”
“We figured. Carrie,” she said, sneaking a couple of fingertips out from the stranglehold she had on the baby. “And this little guy is T.J. His dad is the shortstop.”
No missing thewein Carrie’s statement. So Mason had mentioned her, at least. Hopefully before tonight’s game.
“The team’s been bugging the crap out of him since the game a couple of weeks ago. The one where he threw the ball at you to get your attention? Mason’s never gone after a woman before, they always come to him, so the guys are milking the fact that he’s walking around with Cupid’s arrow stuck in his butt.”
Some good news, at least. “Do you think that’s why he’s avoiding me, because he’s embarrassed?”
“I’ve only known him a couple of years, since he moved from Guelph…” Carrie hesitated. Mason was staring directly at them now. Glaring would be a better description. “But I’ve never seen him embarrassed. Not about anything. Sorry, that’s not the answer you wanted, I’m sure.”
