More than the Game by Jenni Bara

4

@FitWeekly:Is it a bad angle or is @HotShotDemoda getting a beer gut? #gettingfat

Marc walked down the ramp over the dunes in front of his house with his water bottle, cooling off after his evening workout. He took a selfie and sent it to Austin, telling him to post it with a comment about keeping in shape. For fuck’s sake, he wouldn’t let anyone think he was getting fat. He pulled his shirt back on and leaned against the railing overlooking the Jersey coastline.

Who knew getting good media was so hard? When he’d been pitching, even bad press wasn’t that bad. He’d been patient with being called a drunk, a drug addict, a hothead, even a whorish disease-infested sleaze bag, but he drew the line at fat.

His eyes scanned the beach while he sucked in a breath of salt air. He sank into one of the two chairs he’d placed on the wooden planks, watching the runners who dotted the sand this time of night. Nothing caught his eye until he landed on slender, toned legs in a pair of tight Sideline shorts. The woman reached down to tie her shoelace, allowing him to catch a glimpse of her heart-shaped ass.

He swallowed, feeling relieved. For days he’d tried to drudge up interest in the women he met in bars and clubs, but he couldn’t. It had been years since he spent so many consecutive nights alone.

Seeing this woman, watching her bend down, Marc found himself interested. He smiled as he brought the water bottle up to his lips, but it stopped halfway to his mouth when the woman turned around, and he realized it was Beth. Shit. How had he not known this was the same woman he’d spent days uselessly trying to forget? He shook his head in frustration.

Ever since that night, when he’d been close to placing his lips on Beth’s, he’d spent most of his waking hours thinking about her. He couldn’t believe how badly he’d messed up by asking her to go out with him. He winced.

But he’d have to think about what that meant later if he wanted to catch up with her now. Marc left the bottle sitting on the chair’s arm and took off down the ramp towards the water.

“Beth,” Marc called, but she didn’t hear him. When he got closer and she still didn’t answer, it became clear she was ignoring him. No one ever ignored him–especially not women. Marc picked up his pace, putting himself in her path, forcing Beth to acknowledge him. Her eyes tracked over him, and his stomach tightened before she glanced away.

“Marc,” she replied coolly. Her tone clearly showed her annoyance. He’d have to try harder.

“It’s beautiful this time of night,” he said awkwardly.

That was the best he could do?

He shook his head as he moved in step beside her, slowing his long legs to match her shorter strides.

“I usually enjoy it alone.” Her eyes took in anything and everything apart from him.

“Lucky you; now you don’t have to,” he joked sending her a smile—knowing full well by her body language that she didn’t see it as lucky.

She didn’t even crack a grin back.

“I realize I owe you an apology.” Her glare turned softer as, at last, she snuck a glance at him, so he continued. “Beautiful women make men nervous and we say stupid things.”

“It’s been two weeks, and that’s the best you got?” She shook her head and tried to speed up, but he easily matched her pace.

“I was trying to ask you out for a drink or dinner or something, and it came across like I was trying to get you into bed. That’s not what I meant.” Those words felt strange coming out of his mouth. They were true now, but for most of his life that statement would have been a lie.

“You think I don’t know Marc Demoda’s reputation?” Beth rolled her eyes, but Marc almost missed his footing.

“You know who I am?” He made a poor attempt to keep the shock out of his voice.

“Of course.” Beth stopped suddenly and turned in the opposite direction. “This is where I head back. Enjoy the rest of your run.”

Marc stood frozen after her apparent dismissal.

In hindsight, it was obvious she knew who he was. His father had called her a VIP client, and his sister spoke about Beth as if Glory knew her. On top of that, repeatedly Beth called him Marc without him having to introduce himself. But he’d assumed as soon as she discovered who he was, she would be falling over him like every other woman he met. She was so different.

“Beth,” he called, taking off down the beach after her. She seemed not to hear him, or maybe she was ignoring him again, but that didn’t stop him. “Did Steve know too?” He slowed down and matched her stride again.

“Yes.”

“He didn’t care either?” Damn, kids were always impressed with him. She shot him a look that said, Are you kidding me?

“You’re definitely not going to be his pick for a teammate anytime soon.”

“I had an off night.” He couldn’t even blame it on his bad arm; it was her fault. “Normally I’m more impressive.”

“Marc, you flooded my kitchen and played bad baseball. That’s the extent of my impressive experience with you.”

“Then give me a chance to do better.”

“I’ve told you I’m not interested,” Beth sighed.

Couldn’t she spend some time getting to know him before she decided he wasn’t worth her time?

“Well, I am,” he huffed. Wow, that was his comeback? Maybe even given a chance, he wouldn’t impress her.

“Why, Marc?” Beth stopped running and looked at him.

It was a good question, and one that he damn well wished he could answer, but he didn’t know. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. His eyes slid over her sweatshirt and then lingered on her hips. He reached for curl that had fallen out of her ponytail and tucked it behind her ear.

“I can think of a few reasons,” he said, his voice low and throaty. Without consciously deciding to, he’d fallen back into seduction mode.

Instead of backing away, Beth let her hand run down his arm before grabbing his wrist and pulling him closer, so almost no space existed between them. She stood up on her toes and let her mouth move to within a centimeter of his ear. His gut clenched as a jolt shot down his body and he licked his lips in anticipation of what she’d do. He finally had her.

“Sorry, hotshot. I make it a point not to sleep with anyone I read about in a magazine,” she whispered before backing up and leaving him. Again.

God, she was maddening. Her satisfied smile as she jogged away said she knew what she was doing. Feisty—he always liked feisty. He stared after her, trying to figure out how to get her to see him again. Then he had a flash of inspiration.

Thank you, Steve. I owe you one.

“Want to race back?” Marc asked when he caught up with her again. “You make the rules, and the winner will choose dinner tomorrow night.”

A crack of a laugh broke through Beth’s lips.

“I didn’t agree to go out with you.” Instead of sounding annoyed, this time, Beth smiled as she replied.

“Exactly. If you win, you eat alone—but if I win, you eat with me. Unless you don’t think you’re up for the challenge.”

Her eyes flashed with the sparkle that had drawn him from the start. She looked down the beach toward his house before turning back.

“I pick the rules, right?” Beth eyes shone like trouble danced in their green depths.

“Sure.” He expected her to give herself a considerable head start.

Her reply was almost immediate. “My only rule is you run backward, and no turning or glancing around. If you look towards the finish line, you forfeit. I run facing forward. We stop where I always do, two blocks after the end of the boardwalk.” Beth stopped running and waited for his answer.

She couldn’t know running backward was his warm-up, but that was something he wasn’t about to share.

“You’re on,” Marc said instead.

He turned around and lined up right next to her. He didn’t understand why she looked so cocky, but it was written all over her face along with a touch of excitement. That he could relate to—the adrenaline rush of competition. He liked a woman who could handle his sense of sport, and Beth could. Marc doubted most women he hung out with would take him on in a foot race, much less think they could win.

But before he could analyze it, she took off down the beach, and he had to go. He caught her quickly, but Beth kept pace, staying a bit behind him so he could see her without breaking his looking forward rule. Halfway back, he increased his lead. But she didn’t look tired. Beth watched him expectantly, almost like she was waiting for something.

Suddenly his foot missed the ground behind him. Moving as fast as he was, his other foot lost the ground a second later, and he couldn’t stop himself from falling backward, landing half in and half out of a hole in the sand. The wind was knocked out of his lungs and it took a second to get his bearings. Once he did, he heard Beth laughing. He turned to glare at her before realizing she had moved and he was breaking her rule.

“Looks like I win, hotshot.” Beth smiled that same cocky smile.

“You didn’t think you should mention the hole?”

Beth’s eyes sparkled with the trouble he’d seen before. It was in that second it clicked. She’d seen the hole before she agreed to the race. She had purposely let him fall flat on his back.

Beth knew she couldn’t beat him in a flat-out race, so she’d outwitted him because she wasn’t about to lose. Impressive.

“And if I’d gotten hurt?” he asked.

“Other than your pride, you’re fine,” Beth assured him, laughing again before extending a hand to help him up.

Payback’s a bitch.

He got to his feet, holding her arm, and then grabbed her waist. He tossed her over his shoulder. He turned and headed straight into the water as she shrieked. She was kicking and squirming, but Marc had secured a firm hold behind her knees, and she wasn’t getting away. He walked until the water hit his shorts, then tossed her straight into the oncoming wave before he backed up out of its way. He laughed as the wave crashed directly over her head. Damn, she was fun.

“You snake in the grass,” she shrieked as she righted herself. She stood glaring at him, looking a bit like a drowned rat—but a cute one.

“I’m a what?” Had she called him a snake? Unlike him, she didn’t look amused; she looked thoroughly pissed.

“My phone was in my pocket!” Beth’s voice sounded shrill, but Marc was laughing.

One minute she was marching toward him, and suddenly a hard sweeping kick knocked straight into the back of his knees. Both gave out from under him, and he was flat on his back again this time with a wave crashing over him. His head whacked the sand, and he wasn’t sure which way was up or down as he spun in the surf. He got a few delightful mouthfuls of saltwater before someone pulled him toward the beach. It didn’t occur to him it might be anyone other than Beth getting him back onto the sand. But two powerful arms that weren’t female dumped him on the ground, just out of the water.

“What’s going on?” a male voice asked, sounding somewhat amused.

“Is Will having you watch me while I run now?” Beth demanded, in full-on feisty mode. “Because, as you can see, I handled this.”

“Seeing as it’s my job to watch this part of the beach, you can’t blame my brother.” The man laughed and Marc saw that he was wearing a red swimsuit and white windbreaker labeled Lifeguard.

He was tall, built like a linebacker, but with bright blue eyes that Marc could see from where he was sitting.

“Drowning a person is a crap idea, and don’t tell me you didn’t know you caught him completely off guard. Most people don’t know that such a small person can be so much trouble.” The man’s hand came up and waved off a second lifeguard headed their way.

Neither of them seemed worried about him sitting in the sand, coughing up water. Didn’t anyone realize he was not a person to be ignored? Marc’s ego took another bruising as he realized that this guy, like Beth, didn’t care who he was. His attention was all on the beautiful, drowned rat.

Marc tried to follow the conversation, but his ears were ringing from hitting the ground twice. The man handed Beth his lifeguard jacket, and she took off her sweatshirt, handing it over to him. The flash of her skin took over Marc’s thoughts.

“I’ll bring it back over later,” the man said.

“Whenever,” Beth answered.

They had plans?

Beth’s gaze finally fell on Marc, but he didn’t see sympathy or humor in those green eyes. He’d pissed her off—again. Usually, he was good with women, although, he really never tried; being there and being himself was enough. If he’d always had to work at it, would he ever have had any luck with women? He wasn’t one of those naturally lovable guys like the muscular lifeguard standing in front of him.

The man murmured something at Beth, and she rolled her eyes before she turned and stalked away.

“You doing okay, Mr. Demoda?” the man asked him. Given the situation, Marc wasn’t thrilled this guy recognized him.

“I’m fine. Call me Marc,” he said. He stood up, embarrassed.

“I’m Danny. Don’t feel bad. She’s tougher than she looks. Beth could take me down too.” Was that supposed to make him feel better? “And she wouldn’t have let you drown even if I hadn’t been here,” Danny said, watching Beth as she headed off the beach.

“I’m not sure about that.”

Danny laughed.

“You don’t know her. But you did put her in a nice little tiff, which is shocking. These days she rarely lets herself get good and mad.”

Marc didn’t believe that for a second. Since he’d met Beth, he had pissed her off plenty.

But he couldn’t blame her. He’d flooded her kitchen, yelled at her, implied she was the type of woman interested in one-night stands, thrown her in the ocean, and ruined her phone. He was acting like a ten-year-old pulling a girl’s hair to get her attention. As opposed to the man standing in front of him, who had come to help Beth, given her his jacket, and handled her wet crap.

“Seems like you do,” Marc said. Danny was probably as interested in Beth as he was, and he had secured an invite to hang with her tonight. Something Marc hadn’t.

“Nah, I usually just amuse her.”

“I meant you know her,” Marc corrected, trying futilely to brush the sand off his wet clothes. But there was no dignity at this moment, so he gave up.

“Well enough to know that her run is her alone time and not the best time to mess with her. Although now you know that too.” Danny chuckled again.

“Few chances to get away from the rugrats, I guess.”

Danny’s face hardened for the first time.

“They’re good kids,” Danny said as his eyes narrowed, and Marc recognized the protectiveness there.

“Are you in love with her or just hooking up with her?” Marc asked. Danny was a bit young, but if he and Beth were together, Marc would back off.

“Neither,” Danny said with a hint of a smile touching his lips. “She’s my sister.”

“Shit,” Marc mumbled and then ran his hands over his eyes.

“Your bad reputation proceeds you dude.”

“No, I’m sorry, really.” Marc shook his head. “It’s…” He paused, looking for a way to explain that what he wanted with Beth differed from his usual MO. But how could he describe it? “Beth’s—” He couldn’t find the right word. “—great,” he finished lamely, then looked up to see Danny smirking.

Danny crossed his arms over his chest as his smile grew.

“She is great,” he agreed. Marc could have sworn he saw a touch of friendship in the guy’s face now, but he knew he must be misinterpreting it. “If you were to ask Beth, you and I aren’t that different. A smart man knows who you can fuck with and who you can’t. You don’t fuck with Beth. She isn’t that type of girl.”

Marc nodded.

“You aren’t a quitter Marc Demoda, so I know you won’t give up easy. Just don’t say no one warned you.” Danny smiled like they were old friends.

It made Marc wonder about Beth’s brothers, especially when a younger version of Danny headed their way. Another blonde-haired blue-eyed linebacker; this one though had a face that belonged in Disney’s fairytales. Marc groaned as he remembered what Beth had said; there were five more of these guys somewhere.