Dare to Kiss (The Maxwell Series Book 1) (32 page)

I continued to warm up, rotating among fastball, curveball, and slider. My arm got looser, my pitches better. I’d wanted to practice my slider a few more times, but Coach Dean called everyone in.

The five of us vying for a spot on the team trudged out. Coach Dean had three pitching spots available. I’d watched each of the boys pitch, and they were good. I especially worried about Todd. He had a wicked fastball. I couldn’t say how fast his clocked, but his delivery was smooth, high cock of his leg, balance in his delivery, and a beautiful snap when the ball hit the catcher’s glove. While his fastball was good, he had a perfect splitter pitch. I tried to throw a splitter, which was really a split-finger fastball, but my hands weren’t big enough. In order to execute it flawlessly, the ball had to be choked deep into the hand, and Todd had big hands.

No sooner had we settled in the dugout than Coach Dean called my name. I grabbed my glove and headed out. The stands had several spectators, and I immediately homed in on Kade, who was sitting next to a man with honey-brown hair much like Kade’s. Was that his dad? My gaze lingered for a second before I continued to scan the crowd to look for my own dad. He sat on Kade’s right. Relief washed over me. I’d reminded him last night before he left for work, but I hadn’t known for sure if some problem at the club would prevent him from being here again. He nodded and smiled.
The two men in my life were here to support me. I could do this
. I swept my gaze over the rest of the stands. Becca sat next to my dad, and Kody sat next to his. The only other person I would’ve liked to be here was Tyler, even with the tension between him and Kade. Tyler had a doctor’s appointment this morning to get his arm looked at, and then he was off to the away game. Three rows behind Kade sat Greg Sullivan and two guys who seemed too old to be on school grounds. Actually, the hairs on my neck rose when one of them pointed at me. I’d wondered if those were the men who Hunt had said worked for that Pitt guy.

“Lacey.” Coach Dean’s voice broke through my concentration. “Since you didn’t get to finish pitching last week, you’ll be facing two batters today. Aaron is up first.”

My wish came true. Maybe I should try to ruin one of his arms so he couldn’t throw. Then he might falter in tryouts and not make the team.

Mark Wayland ran out of the dugout in full catcher’s gear. “Same setup as last week, Lacey. Remember your follow through like yesterday,” he said as we walked out to home plate. “One for curveball, two for fastball, and three for slider.” He handed me the ball.

“Got it.” I walked out to the mound, turning the ball inside my glove.
Fastball. Curveball. Slider.
Zone.
When I stepped onto the mound, I dug my heel in the dirt around the rubber.

Kelton and Kross were sitting in the dugout. Coach had other boys I didn’t know playing the field.

I threw a few warm-up pitches to Mark. Aaron took a couple of practice swings before crowding the plate. As usual, I checked to ensure the field was ready. I wound up and released. Coach Lee, who’d resumed his umpire position, called it a strike. My shoulders relaxed. After two more pitches, the count was one ball and two strikes.

A few of the spectators screamed, “Strike him out!”

Inwardly, I smiled. Outwardly, Aaron didn’t. He glowered at me. He was probably waiting for me to plant my face in the dirt like I did last week.
Not going to happen
. At least, not with him. If anything, he fueled my adrenaline, making me dip into my zone.
Maybe I should hold true to my threat to knock some respect into him.

Aaron kicked one foot out of the box, a sign he needed a minute. He wiped his hands down his pants while he kept the bat between his legs. Then he rubbed both hands together before gripping the bat. He crouched into his stance and swung a few times.

Coach had said that Aaron was a good ballplayer. His batting average every season teetered on four hundred. I couldn’t worry about his average. I only needed one more strike. I inhaled and watched Mark for the signs. I adjusted my ball cap, my gaze traveling from Mark to Aaron. He released one of his hands from the bat and pointed to the outfield.
Was he doing what I think he was doing
? I gripped the ball tightly. He was good, but he wasn’t Babe Ruth. I had to take him down a notch. The crowd jumped to their feet.

Mark called time. “Lacey,” Mark said, jogging up to me. The infield joined him, surrounding us. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s doing that to intimidate you.”

“I know. He’s being a dick.”

“No. He’s playing the game,” one of the boys said. “I can tell you’re in your zone, so don’t break the momentum. You’re doing great.”

“One more strike is all you need. Get him out. It will boost your confidence to pitch to the next batter.
Capiche
?” Mark tapped me on my glove.

I didn’t know he was suddenly my shrink. Regardless, I welcomed his encouragement. It was good to know he focused on the game, and not on threats or rivalries.

I nodded and covered my mouth with my glove. “Fastball?”

“Slider.”

Worried, I raised my glove to shield my eyes. I didn’t want anyone seeing my expression. My slider was weak. Sure, I practiced it, but it wasn’t the pitch to use on Aaron if I wanted to strike him out.

“You have a great fastball. But that’s what Aaron is expecting, or another curveball. He’s good at reading pitches after he has a chance to see them. He won’t be expecting a slider. Besides, it looked good yesterday when we practiced.” Mark tapped my glove again then my shoulder.

My stomach clenched.

“Lacey, I’ve seen you pitch,” the dark-haired boy at shortstop said. “Your slider is good. You’re in your zone. Stay in it,” he said, and he jogged back to his shortstop position.

You’re in your zone. Don’t blow it,
I silently chanted.

I went through my breathing routine as I planted two feet on the mound. Then I got into position. The grip for the slider was similar to the fastball, but the placement of the fingers was different. I gripped the ball, making sure my thumb was holding it tight, along with my middle finger. I let out a breath and released the ball, following it all the way into Mark’s glove where it made a resounding snap. In an instant, I tensed every muscle, waiting for Coach Lee’s sign.

“Strike three,” he called.

Aaron’s head jerked toward Coach Lee. “Bullshit. That wasn’t close to a strike,” he yelled.

Coach Lee ignored him as Aaron slowly walked back to the dugout, tossing a death glare over his shoulder at me.
Sore loser
came to mind. But as fast as the term hit me, it was gone when Coach Dean called Renee to bat.
So much for rejoicing at my awesome feat
. I’d had a feeling Coach would make me pitch to Renee given his statement. I hadn’t dwelled on the thought of me pitching to Renee again. Sometimes the anticipation leading up to an event could be scarier than the event itself, the way giving blood was, for me. I’d psych myself out every time. I hated needles. I hated to be poked. But the needle poking me wasn’t as bad as I made it out to be.

Renee slipped on her helmet, grabbed her bat and swung it a few times before stepping into the batter’s box.

Kelton ran out of the dugout, pointing to the boy who’d been playing shortstop. I guess they were exchanging places. While Kelton warmed up, Renee trotted out to the mound.

What was she doing
?

“Hey,” she said. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. You ran off at lunch and again after psychology. Then you didn’t show up in the locker room. I wanted a chance to talk to you. Don’t see me as someone you once knew. Try to see me as Aaron. You did so well pitching to him.”

“Probably because I don’t like him. And he’s a far cry from resembling anyone I knew.”

“Try anyway. I’m just another batter.” She ran back to the batter’s box.

I didn’t know what to think of Renee’s pep talk.

“Okay, people. Let’s continue,” Coach Dean shouted from the dugout.

Mark crouched down into his catcher’s position, giving a signal for a fastball. Renee nodded, curling her lips higher on one side.
No. No. No.
Why did she have to smile
? All of a sudden a bead of sweat trickled down my temple. My body heated. My fingers became icicles as they gripped the ball so tight I wasn’t sure I could release it.
She’s not your sister. Yeah. Tell that to my freaking brain.
My familiar bumblebee buzzed in my head. Without another thought, I threw the ball. It sailed down to home plate, narrowly missing Renee’s head. She stumbled backwards out of the batter’s box.

“Lacey, girl?” Kelton said, running up to me.

“I don’t think I can do this, Kelton,” I whispered.

A few of the infielders crowded us.

“Leave,” Kelton bit out.

They went back to their positions.

Then Mark trotted up. “What the—”

“I got this, Mark,” Kelton said. “Let me handle her.”

My head shot up.
Handle me. How was he going to handle me
?

Mark shook his head and went back to home plate.

“Kade wanted me to give you a message. Are you listening to me, Lacey?” He shook me.

“Yeah.”
No
. The buzzing in my head was loud, and I didn’t warm to the idea of someone
handling
me. But I wasn’t in any state to argue with him.

“God, forgive me for this. I promised myself these words would never leave my lips for any girl,” Kelton said.

I rubbed my neck.

Coach Dean came out to the mound. “Lacey?”

“Coach, I got this,” Kelton said. “I promise she’ll pitch.”

Coach raked his hand across his head. “Hurry it up. We don’t have all day.” Then he trotted away.

I wiped the sweat from my brow.

“Lacey, I…love the crap out of you,” Kelton whispered.

“What!” My jaw hit the dirt.

“Kade’s message.
Kade’s
. Not mine. My brother is fucked up. How do you put ‘crap’ and ‘love’ in the same sentence?” His blue eyes swam with embarrassment.

A wave of warmth flowed over me. Even though Kelton’s tone was a little rough, his voice sounded like Kade’s. The word
family
whispered in the back of my head.
God, Kade continued to surprise me
. He knew this would be rough for me, and he took every measure to ensure I would be fine even when we were angry with each other. A smile split my lips more at the pain on Kelton’s face.

“He knows you two haven’t made up yet, but he said it might help,” Kelton added.

“Do you have a problem with love?”

“Not the time, girl. You okay?”

I nodded once.

“Good. Now, get your ass in gear and pitch the fucking ball.” He hit me on the ass and took his position at shortstop.

I wasn’t sure Kade’s message would help, but it was good to know he loved me, and for that, I pitched the ball.

This time the ball soared over the plate, and not Renee’s head.

“Ball,” Coach Lee called.

I inhaled the fresh air as I caught the ball from Mark. He flashed the curveball sign for the next pitch. This time, I concentrated on the grip of the ball, the plate, and Mark, making sure I didn’t look at Renee. When I did, the ball hit Mark’s glove dead-on, with a thud. The count was now two balls and one strike.
Same thing. Don’t look at her.

Mark sent the ball back to me. Then he gave me a signal for a slider. I readied the ball and my stance. As soon as I planted my foot on the ground, the ball left my glove and then…crack! The ball met the bat and flew into the outfield.
Damn slider.
I had to practice that pitch more.

Renee ran the bases, and I wanted to run with her to bask in my own joy. I hated that I didn’t strike her out, but I didn’t have a panic attack. Letting out all the air in my lungs, I relaxed every muscle in me as the boy in center field chased the ball. It rolled against the fence. When he picked it up Renee slid into second base easily.

Then Coach Dean called me in. As I jogged to the dugout, Todd ran out.

“You did well,” he said. “Nice pitching to Aaron. Better you than me, though.”

“Thanks. Good luck,” I said.

I couldn’t tell what Coach was thinking. Did he like how I pitched to Aaron and Renee? I gave it my best—at least with Aaron I had. With Renee, my performance was less than stellar, but I didn’t quit and I didn’t pass out, and that alone I had to celebrate.

Chapter 22

T
he headlights of my car bobbed along the dark country road as I drove out to Kade’s house. He wanted to talk, and I’d never had a chance to answer him. I could’ve texted him, but I wanted to surprise him. When tryouts ended, I spent some time with Renee, apologizing to her for my behavior in the lunchroom, and I owed her a huge thank-you for the little pep talk we had at the mound. Becca had joined us in the girls’ locker room, and the three of us sat and chatted for over an hour. I shared the story of Mom and Julie. I definitely owed it to Becca, but I’d hoped telling Renee would help me get past my issue with her. I couldn’t say if it had or it hadn’t yet. But as I examined her features, I felt the need to touch her to make sure she wasn’t my sister. I didn’t, though. She’d probably hit me. They were both sympathetic, and while I didn’t want them to feel sorry for me, I did appreciate the tears they shed with me.

When we finally walked out to the parking lot, only a few cars remained, and Kade’s wasn’t one of them. I didn’t expect to see Dad either, since I’d told him I wouldn’t be home right away. I also asked if he would lift my punishment, if only for the night. I explained to him I needed to apologize to Kade, and I didn’t want to do it over the phone. He studied me for the longest time before he obliged. Instead of one night, he lifted it permanently with one condition: if I stepped out of line again, he wouldn’t hesitate to ground me for the rest of the school year. I assured him I would do my best to stay out of trouble, but I didn’t make any promises. After I’d gotten home, showered, and changed my clothes, Dad gave me money to pay Kade for fixing my car.

I turned down the road with the tunnel of trees as I drew closer to Kade’s house. I wiped a clammy hand on my black skinny jeans. Becca had said the man sitting next to Kade was his dad.
Maybe surprising Kade wasn’t a good idea. What if they were having dinner? What if they weren’t home? Had Kade told his dad about me? Would he like me
?

The landscape lighting gave the home a warm, inviting feel as I drove down the driveway to park behind Kade’s truck. I sat in my car for a minute, trying to drum up enough nerve to get out. This was a bad idea.
You love the guy. Make nice. But what if he doesn’t want to now?

I glanced in my rearview mirror, and the lights were on in the kitchen. One of the triplets peered out from the sliding glass door. Then the door opened and he loped onto the deck. Blowing out a breath, I got out of my car.
Face your demons.
The Maxwells weren’t my demons. Although Kelton might be able to pass for one. I giggled at that notion.

“Something funny?” Kelton asked as he swaggered down the steps of the deck, feet bare, chest bare, jeans sitting low on his hips, Calvin Kleins poking out of the waist of his jeans.

I looked away, embarrassed for checking him out.
Bad girl.

“See something you like, Lacey?” he drawled.

Asshat.

“Is Kade home?” I asked, meeting his blue eyes.

“Maybe. You did well today. Coach should have the roster posted after school on Monday,” he said.

Since I was on an apologizing-and-thanking tour, I owed Kelton a thank-you. “You helped me out on the field. If it weren’t for you, I might have lost it,” I said.

He shook his head. “Don’t thank me. Thank my brother, girl. He owes me though.” He sat down on the top step of the deck.

“Why? Because you said the word love? What’s all that about anyway?” I leaned against the stair rail.

He rubbed two fingers over his chin. “I see how torn up Kody is over the loss of Mandy. He’s been a wreck for the past couple of years. I see how my dad hurts because of my mom. I don’t want to get like that.” He dropped his gaze to his bare feet.

I had this itch to hug him and tell him that losing someone to God or a mental health facility wouldn’t happen to him. But I’d be lying. I didn’t know what the future held for me, let alone for him. I also understood his apprehension since I knew how it felt to get my heart broken. I looked down at my black flats.

The sound of the sliding door opening drew my gaze up. A tall man strode out, his shiny shoes clomping on the wood deck.

“Kelton, why are you out here with no shirt in front of this pretty girl?” He grinned and two dimples popped out on his cheeks. “I apologize for my son’s rude display and lack of manners. You must be Lacey.” He had the same copper eyes as Kade.

“Yes, sir,” I said, not moving. I was mesmerized by how alike Kade and he looked.

He tapped Kelton on the head. “Go put a shirt on. And get Kade,” he said. “Come, Lacey. You don’t have to wait out here for Kade.”

Kade didn’t even know I was here. Or did he? I climbed the stairs, nerves poking my stomach. What had Kade told his dad about me? Kelton stood and disappeared into the house. When I reached the door, Dr. Maxwell waited for me to go in before him. Then he closed the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” He waved a hand at the barstools at the kitchen island.

“No, thanks. I was just stopping by to give Kade money for fixing my car.”
And to tell him I love him.

“I see.” He tucked his hands into his pants pockets. “I was impressed by your pitching today. I’ve never seen a girl pitch in boys’ baseball before. My boys told me how good you were. Forgive me if I sound skeptical.”

“That’s okay, Dr. Maxwell. I’m used to it. But it really isn’t any different than girl’s fast pitch softball. Sure, the mechanics are different and the ball is bigger, but those girls throw just as fast and hard as I do, or most boys pitching.”
God, I hope he didn’t think I was being disrespectful
.

He grinned again. A door banged from somewhere in the house. Then footsteps grew louder.

“Ah, maybe that’s Kade. The boys were down in the game room, getting ready to watch a movie.”

“Hey,” Kade said as he walked in. His dark Zeal T-shirt stretched across his chest, and my fingers itched to touch the bare skin underneath. His hair appeared damp as though he’d just gotten out of the shower, and yes, my fingers twitched with the urge to feel his soft hair.

I didn’t bother sizing him up any farther, not with his father standing next to me. Prickly heat danced over my skin, and I prayed I didn’t appear red.

“Son, I’m meeting Buster tonight for a late dinner. It was nice meeting you, Lacey. And, oh, please, call me Martin.” At least his name didn’t begin with a K. He grabbed his keys off the counter and left through the sliding glass door.

“So, that’s your dad,” I said, breaking the awkward moment. The last time we were really alone, he left me at my doorstep, wondering if we would be together again.

“Do you want to talk about my dad?” he asked as he crossed the kitchen floor. His tone was hard.

“Nah, I came to give you money for fixing my car.” I pulled out a folded envelope from my back pocket, and set it on the gold-speckled granite surface. “And you said you wanted to talk.”

Dragging his palm slowly along the smooth granite surface, Kade rounded the island. His eyes flashed with anger, hurt then lust. I swallowed. Was I ready to make nice?
Yeah.
Was I ready for him to devour me?
Hell, yeah.

Before I opened my mouth, his hand gripped the granite edge on my right, and the other came up to settle on my face. His eyes skimmed over me. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

“I’m still mad at you,” I said, keeping my gaze on his full lips as I licked my own.

“The feeling is mutual.” He lowered his mouth to mine.

“So is kissing me your way of talking?”

“They say make-up sex is the best,” he said.

“Your dad might walk back in,” I said.

He glanced over his shoulder as his hand coasted down from my face to the counter. Now I was barricaded between him and the granite surface, the same position he’d had me in on my birthday. I leaned to my left. A red glow illuminated the darkness in the driveway as the car backed out of the garage. The engine purred slowly. Then the lights dimmed, as did the sound of the engine.

He turned back around, eyes soft, his scent heady. “Let’s go to my room.” He grabbed my hand.

The hallway was dark ahead, and suddenly I stopped, wrenching my hand away.
It’s not your old house. Breathe, girl.

He turned, took one look at me and reached around my arm and switched on the hall light. “I’m so sorry. Breathe,” he said.

“I am.” I closed my eyes, taking in his silken tone. His voice was always a safe haven. Before I opened my eyes, I was airborne in his arms, my body bouncing with every footstep.

Once inside, he set me on his bed, shut and locked the door, then flipped on the bedside lamp. Then he sat down next to me. “I’m truly sorry.” Our thighs were touching.

“Hey, I’m fine. You were there. I didn’t black out.”

“I know.” He turned, facing me. “But I’m also apologizing for not telling you about Coach wanting me to watch out for you.”

So we were on that topic
. “Coach said he
didn’t
ask you to watch me, though.”

“Well, he asked us to watch Aaron. He wanted to make sure Aaron wasn’t going to bother you or Renee.”

Should I tell him about Aaron’s recent threat? If I did, he’d probably make me tell Coach. Then I would start a shit storm when I didn’t even know yet if I even made the team
.

“I went down to the field that night to see who you were so I would know who I was supposed to keep Aaron away from. I already knew Renee from school. But after you pulled that gun on me, you showed me you could look after yourself.” The backs of his fingers slid up my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and Aaron vanished from my memory.

I didn’t want to talk anymore. I’d been angry, sad, depressed. He and I had been apologizing to each other from the start of our relationship, it seemed. Now it was time to show him how much I loved him. I reached out, touching his face.

His fingers circled my wrists, guiding my hand down to my lap. “I need to know what Tyler was doing at your house the other night.” His tone lowered.

“I told you, it’s not what you think.” I hopped off the bed.

“Then tell me what it was, Lace.”

I walked over to his dresser.
If you’re going to build a relationship, tell the truth.
Quarters, dimes, and nickels were strewn over the wood top. A photo of a little boy standing in front of a massive pool of water with a polar bear swimming in it sat on his dresser.

“Lace,” he said. “I’ve never been the jealous type.” His reflection grew larger in the glass-framed picture. “It makes me crazy when I see how guys look at you.” Standing behind me, he swept my hair to one side. “And even crazier to think of another guy touching you.” He licked a path along the column of my neck up to my ear. “Now tell me.” He nipped at my ear. “What was Tyler doing at your house? And why was your blouse open?”

I’d probably be asking the same question, if the roles were reversed. I’d kill any girl who had the nerve to throw herself at Kade. “He wanted to make sure we were still friends. And I spilled spaghetti sauce all over me, so I went upstairs to change. When I heard your voice, I ran downstairs.”

His hand came around and flattened against my stomach as he pressed into me. “What do you mean, he wanted to make sure you were friends?”

I couldn’t concentrate with his tongue in my ear. “Kade, there’s nothing going on with Tyler and me.” I knew I should tell him Tyler wanted to be more than friends. But then he wouldn’t trust Tyler around me
.
I didn’t want to alienate Tyler and the Maxwells. Weren’t they friends too? Well, maybe Kade wasn’t going to be so kind to him now.

“I swear he’ll never play football again if he tries anything with you.” His hand tensed against my stomach. “You’re mine, Lace. No one else can have you. I want to hear you say it.”

I shuddered.
Why was his dominance such a damn turn-on?

He slipped one hand into my jeans. I squirmed against him as his fingers dipped inside my panties. “Tell me you’re mine, baby.”

“Kade?” I panted out his name, opening my legs slightly.

“You want me to go lower?” His other hand trailed upward under my blouse.

“Yes,” My body screamed for him to sate the need building inside me.

He teased, his fingers slipping between my folds. “I want to hear the words, Lace.”

“I’m yours.” I sank into him.

He removed his hand. Whimpering, I turned. He grabbed the edges of his Zeal T-shirt and pulled it up over his head, the muscles along his abs tightening. I traced a finger over one, then two, then three. Up and down, each one, until I mapped out all six. His hooded gaze was fixed on me, as though he didn’t know what he wanted to do next. I smiled. As though that were his cue to take control, my clothes came off in a flash, and his were next. We stood naked as he bent down and sucked in one nipple. I arched into him as I rubbed along his length, so soft and so very hard. He groaned, husky and dark, sucked the nipple of my other breast into his mouth, and nipped lightly. Sparks of heat sped down through me. He clutched my hips in his hands, lifting his head. Gold and brown tones weaved through his copper eyes as they dilated.

“Legs around me,” he said, picking me up.

I locked my ankles behind his waist, my hands behind his neck. He walked us over to his bed, where he gently eased us down. Untangling my body from his, I clenched my fingers in his hair, pulling him down and kissing him, thoroughly, sensually, and with everything I had. His lips were soft, wet, and tasted of sugar. I loved him and wanted to be loved by him. I wanted every ounce of what he had to offer, faults and all. As our tongues tangled, twisted, and tasted, our bodies molded to each other.

He broke the kiss, pinning my arms over my head. “Leave them there,” he growled as he snatched a condom from his nightstand.

His dominant tone made me obey and quiver at the same time. A frisson of heat propelled itself south and kept going all the way to my toes. He tore through the wrapper, the sound an intimate whisper in the quiet room. The soft glow of the bedside lamp licked across his strong jaw. He glanced at me while he sheathed himself in the condom. His eyes flashed a warning—
last chance to run before I ravage your body.

At least, those were the words screaming through my head. I licked my dry lips, and the copper in his eyes disintegrated, melting in a deep, dark brown. I barely moved my arm, and he secured my wrists with one hand while the other teased its way down over my breast, my waist, my hip, stimulating already heightened nerve endings. His knee eased my legs apart.