Karma’s Kiss

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

I spent a good chunk of my childhood at the ballfields watching my brother and Sawyer work their way up from Little League to elite travel teams. I can still recite the concession stand menu from memory, and just pulling into the parking lot makes my mouth water for a Frito pie and juicy dill pickle.

I was not a baseball player myself. I preferred soccer, and then later, track and field. David must be forgetting how much I lack basic hand-eye coordination. I’m truly the last person who should be voluntarily stepping onto a baseball field, but at least I look the part. David texted me that the Heatwave team colors are red and white, so I booked it home from the grocery store and tossed on a white tennis skirt and a red workout tank before dragging my butt over here.

On the fields, there are two teams warming up, and upon seeing them, I immediately realize David undersold this commitment. This is not going to be a casual pickup game. The other team has an overly loud stereo blasting “Eye of the Tiger” while a troop of guys does calisthenics in left field. Another group of them are sprawled out on the ground stretching each other’s quads and hammies. And don’t even get me started on their uniforms. They look straight out of the MLB—professional, crisp, absolutely obnoxious. Once I see their mouths frothing with sunflower seeds, I know I should leave and pretend I was never here, but Lindsey’s already seen me.

She beams. “Boy am I glad to see you. Our savior!”

I grunt at her exaggeration. “Savior? Yeah right.” I nod toward the field. “What’s with the other team?”

She blocks the sunlight with her hand as she glances over. “Oh yeah. They’re a bit…much. Most of the teams we play keep it casual—”

“JENKINS, DON’T LET THOSE GROUNDERS GET PAST YOU!” their team captain explodes with fury.

“—and then there’s Cedar Valley,” she finishes with an apologetic smile. “But it’s fun!”

She wraps me up in a hug and tells me how glad she is that I’m here for the summer. I love my sister-in-law. We’ve always gotten along well, though our relationship still leans more toward acquaintances than sisters, but it’s been hard with us being in different states. Before she and David had Cruz, we’d try to set up couples’ trips every so often, but I had to twist Matthew’s arm to get him to agree to them, and he and David never really settled into the friendship I’d wanted for them.

I guess none of that matters now.

My brother comes up behind me and slings his arm over my shoulder. “Don’t worry, this will be more embarrassing for me than it will be for you.”

I shove his arm off. “Oh thanks. That’s helpful.”

Lindsey scowls at him.

He drops an old baseball glove in my hand and I slip it on to see if it even fits. The leather’s so worn it feels like butter. Then he asks, “When’s the last time you put on a glove?”

“I dunno. Sixth grade?”

He winces like he was hoping I’d secretly been honing my baseball skills on the side for the last decade. “Okay. You remember the basics? Like what’s that position called?” He points to the guy on the mound who happens to be Sawyer . “Come on, you got it. It starts with a p-p-p.”

I hold up my gloved hand. “You can’t see, but I’m flipping you off.”

“Nice. Real ladylike.”

“Leave her alone, David,” Lindsey chides before taking my arm. “C’mon, Madison, I’ll show you the only thing that really matters. I’ve got a pitcher full of margaritas hidden in the dugout!”

“Don’t get her drunk before she’s even warmed up!” my brother calls after us. “Game starts in ten minutes!”

“Is Cruz here?” I ask as we walk off. I love my nephew. He has adorable chubby cheeks and a smile that makes me melt. I hope I have a little boy just like him someday.

“I dropped him with Queenie. She’s taking him to the park, but the plan is for them to come watch the end of the game so she can buy him one of everything from the concession stand.”

I grin. “That’s my boy.”

By the time we make it over to the dugout, the rest of our team has come in off the field. At this crucial moment, the other team is running through a ten-part pregame strategy. Meanwhile, our guys are shotgunning beers.

Pam and Jimmy O’Neal wave to me and Hunter grins from where he’s bent over, wiping beer off his mouth. There’s also Lee—Hunter’s uncle—and his wife Tammy. The brunette woman in the corner getting water isn’t immediately recognizable, though to be fair it’s been a while since I’ve been in town.

“Who’s that?” I ask Lindsey quietly enough.

“Oh, Charlotte. Moved here about two years back for a job at the elementary school.”

When she straightens up, I see she’s bedazzled the front of her tight t-shirt with glitter iron-on letters spelling out H-E-A-T-W-A-V-E. Her hair is meticulously arranged in two bubble braids. Her water bottle is adorned with stickers that say YOU CAN DO IT and DON’T MAKE ME USE MY RED PEN and IT’S A TEACHER THING.

Lindsey sees me assessing her and smiles a knowing smile. “She’s nice.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

She bumps my hip with hers. “You didn’t have to.”

Charlotte tightens her braids and heads over to Sawyer with a determined look. He’s leaning against the dugout door, writing something on a clipboard when he glances up and smiles at her. I’m sure her stomach is doing the exact same thing mine is: a diabolical little squeeze. Truly, it’s unbearable to look at him like this. His jaw is clean-shaven and chiseled (rude!), his red t-shirt stretches nicely over his broad shoulders (not fair!), and he’s turned his baseball cap backward (criminal!).

He says something to Charlotte I can’t make out and then his gaze cuts over her head as he spots me. Whatever simple tug I felt when he smiled at Charlotte is nothing compared to this. No one—not even Matthew—has ever had this kind of effect on me. I wonder if it happens to everyone. What a superpower!

He nods for me to come over, and I hold up my finger and turn like I’m going to ignore him.

“Now, McCall!”

My jaw drops. Though his tone was light, almost teasing, he still shouted loudly enough that everyone in the dugout stops what they’re doing to watch me follow his orders.

Kendra’s diabolical plan from earlier jumps to mind, and I tip ever so slightly toward her camp. Maybe I could be that vigilante hero she needs.

Sawyer’s brown eyes stay pinned on me until I’m in front of him. It’s a weird little triangle we form, Charlotte, Sawyer, and me. I’m taller than her, but not by much, and we’re both dwarfed by Sawyer.

“I was just going to get a margarita,” I tell him, not bothering to hide my sass.

“You can get one later. I need to know what position you want to play.”

I look down at his clipboard, but his baseball lingo looks like a foreign language. “Aren’t you just going to stick me in the outfield? I suck.”

He tips his head. “If that’s where you want to be, then sure. But if you want to try out another spot, we can shift things around. Doesn’t have to be that serious.”

Is he kidding? At this very moment the other team is rattling the chain-link dugout walls and chanting a battle cry.

“I’m playing outfield too.” Charlotte chimes in to try to smooth the choppy waters.

I scowl at her, realizing too late that there’s no real reason for me not to be nice to this girl. I don’t know her; I don’t have a problem with her. So what if she’s standing a little too close to Sawyer? Or that up close it’s impossible not to see how pretty she is?

Sawyer performs the customary greetings. “Charlotte, this is Madison, David’s sister.”

She extends her dainty hand, and we shake. Her smile is friendly and accommodating, everything I’m not being.

“I love Dave !”

“Me too,” I add dully.

She giggles, and I realize she reminds me of someone.

Me. The version of me back at Auburn, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

“Charlotte, you want a margarita?” Pam calls to her.

“Maybe just a small one!”

She smiles and gushes that it was great to meet me, and I watch her walk away, knowing it’ll give me the opportunity to regroup before I have to refocus my attention on Sawyer. His gaze takes me in with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue; panic rises immediately, this fear that he might try to pick up where we left off at John’s Ice House, and then what will I do? I can practically feel Kendra like a devil on my shoulder, dancing a little jig. DESTROY HIM. DISEMBOWEL HIM. STOP AT NOTHING.

I point to Sawyer’s shirt and the bold white letters that spell captain on the front. “I hardly think this is fair. You started at Alabama all four years.”

His cocky grin is panty-melting. “I think we need every advantage we can get against this team, don’t you think? Plus I know two of their guys played for A I’m arranging the facts to fit my narrative, but I toss that thought aside. Who cares? Sawyer probably is a heartbreaker.

“Oh!” she exclaims. “And when I talk, it’s like he really listens.”

Now see this is very damning evidence because what guy does that?!

I hold up my hand. “Say no more. I totally understand.”

Sawyer’s finished rounding the bases and claiming the run for his homer. On his way into the dugout, he gets a high five from everyone he passes right up until he reaches me. He plops down on the wooden bench, and his thigh brushes mine. I push my leg back against his to hold my territory, but he doesn’t move. He smells faintly of sweat, but mostly of delicious man. I hate it. I love it.

“You look flushed.”

He smirks. “Didn’t you see my homer?”

“Charlotte and I were talking. Sorry I missed it.”

“I didn’t! It was great!” Charlotte tells him, leaning over me to smile at him. “You really should have gone pro.”

Sawyer’s brows rise and he looks to me as if to say, See? She thinks I’m good.

I narrow my gaze out past the dugout. “This field seems small. Are we sure it’s regulation?”

This earns me a light chuckle.

“It’s regulation. Chalked it myself this morning. Think any more about my offer?”

I almost gasp. “ What offer?” I ask, playing innocent.

Is he really going to bring it up right here, in front of Charlotte!? Who cares that she’s been drawn into conversation with Lindsey. She still has ears! And if she’s as into him as I suspect, she’s probably eavesdropping right this very second.

I turn toward him and lower my voice. “Your offer is…impossible. I’m not in a good place in my life. Also, I doubt my brother’s going to be okay with it. He’s very protective of me, you know.”

Sawyer leans forward, dropping his elbows onto his knees as he shouts, “Hey, David! Mind if I—”

OH MY GOD.

I clamp my hand over his mouth, then realizing I’ve gone too far—we don’t touch!—I pull away and scowl at him.

“Are you insane?” I whisper-hiss.

From the look on his face, I can tell he’s enjoying this entirely too much. “Tell me the truth about why you’re saying no.”

“I just did!”

Something juicy is happening on the field. Our team is going crazy. For all I know we’ve just scored another home run, but Sawyer and I don’t look away from each other. We’re locked in some kind of unofficial staring contest and neither one of us wants to lose. It’s completely clear to me now that Kendra is right about Sawyer. He’s as cocky and bold as she suspects, a player through and through, and if I have the chance to put him in his place, don’t I owe it to her and to Charlotte and to all the other women off crying into their pillows over him?

Also, selfishly, this might do me some good. I’ve felt like a top spinning out of control since Matthew uprooted my life a few weeks ago. I want my strength back, my confidence . Maybe Sawyer can give that to me.

“Fine. One date,” I whisper.

His eyes light up. “Tonight?”

I sigh. “If you insist.”

The sooner I get this over with, the better .