by Lori Ryan
Game Maker
A Triple Play Curse Novella, Book 2
Lori Ryan
Game Maker
by Lori Ryan
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Copyright 2015, Lori Ryan.
All rights reserved.
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This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
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ISBN: 978-1-941149-91-1
Acknowledgments
I have had a blast writing these novellas and am so excited to get them out to my readers. There are a lot of people I want to thank for their support and help.
To my critique partners, Jesse Winters, Kate Baray, Ruby Meritt, and Kay Manis, your feedback and harassment—I mean, constructive criticism—on everything from plot, to characters, to the writing itself, helped shape everything so much. Thank you!
Thank you to my incredible beta readers, Dianne Wagner, Shari Drehs Bartholomew, Ashley Hampton, and Sara Smith, as well as to my fantastic street team, and to Anne Welch for coming up with the dirty joke I needed for book two. I’m always amazed by the support you guys give me. Amazed and humbled.
Thank you to Dianne Wagner for making the amazing tile coasters of my book covers for my release party. Truly, so cool!
And, speaking of covers, I’m absolutely in love with these covers. Thank you Viola Estrella of Estrella Cover Art. They are so beautiful!
And, last, thank you to Lea Burn for your fabulous input and editing. It’s been a pleasure working with you!
Chapter One
Aiden Kyle stalked through the door of the San Francisco Strikers’ locker room and scanned the area for his friend and shortstop, Rafe Wilson. Aiden had been pitching for the Strikers for three years, and he and Rafe were close.
But, Rafe had just screwed the whole damn team and Aiden was ticked.
He slapped the newspaper down on the table in front of Rafe and pointed to the picture of a smiling Rafe with his fiancée, Ashlyn Daniels. It’s not that he begrudged Rafe his happiness. He wanted his friend to be happy. If Rafe was crazy enough to think marriage would give him that happiness, Aiden was on board. Rafe had been stupidly happy and blissfully ignorant of what was happening to him since he met Ashlyn. And, if he was honest, Aiden liked Ashlyn. She was good for Rafe.
That didn’t mean he had to like the fact that his friend had just selfishly triggered the curse right in the middle of their season.
“You couldn’t wait?” he asked Rafe. “You just couldn’t wait until the end of the season to save us all from the curse?”
They all knew what the curse was: if one Striker fell in love during the season and got either married or engaged, two more would fall, for a total of three victims. And, every time that had happened, the team as a whole suffered. Record high injuries one year, missing out on a pennant they should have won another, distractions and errors when they should be at the height of their game.
Hell, a month ago, Rafe had been just as adamant as Aiden that none of them trigger the curse this season. If no one fell in love and got married or engaged, they’d all be safe and the season wouldn’t go to pieces overnight.
Rafe shook his head at Aiden, grinning up at him. “Shoot, you should be thanking me. Now you have a shot at happiness, too.”
Aiden grumbled under his breath as Gage Collier, their catcher as well as another good friend, picked up the paper. In addition to the picture of Rafe and Ashlyn, the columnist—who wrote as much about gossip as he did about the sport itself—spilled the entire story of the curse, along with the fact that Rafe Wilson had just initiated it.
Right there, in bold heading letters, the column screamed: “The Triple Play Curse: Which Striker Will Be Next To Fall?”
“How the hell did Brian James get wind of the curse?” Gage asked before turning to the other end of the locker room. “Hey, Denali! Have you been out drinking with Brian James again?”
Their teammate, Jason Denali, grunted an answer as he shrugged a shoulder.
“You run off at the mouth again? Tell him about the curse?”
Denali grimaced. “Maybe?” The tone of his question made it clear he wasn’t really sure himself. Denali tended to drink a little too hard and talk a lot too much, and Brian James had figured out that little weakness a long time ago.
Aiden rolled his eyes. “Great. I’ll have to spend the season with nothing other than strippers and my freaking hand lotion in the shower if I want to avoid this damn curse. Thanks a lot, Rafe.” Keeping women out of his bed seemed to him to be the best way to ensure he didn’t fall prey to the curse.
Rafe just grinned. Aiden shook his head and tossed his bag into his locker. Not him. He wasn’t going to fall. He wasn’t going to forget what he had going here. He was still young, a pitcher for one of the best teams in the American League, and he sure as heck planned to enjoy the benefits of that position for a good long time to come. Those benefits included women, gorgeous women, throwing themselves at him night after night.
Crap. With the exception of this season. Being with a woman now would be too risky. Nope. Strip clubs and hand lotion was it for the rest of this season.
Chapter Two
Lily Dupree carefully gripped the edge of the round drink tray as she balanced the three drinks in its center. Her second night at the Candy Shoppe Lounge wasn’t going any better than her first night had. During that first shift, she had tipped over more than a few drinks and broken several glasses.
She took a deep breath and steadied the tray, lifting it above her head as she rotated it gently in the air, as her friend Katie had taught her. The gentlemen’s club had a strict rule that the waitresses straight-arm their trays above their heads at all times. Lily was hardly cut out for waitressing, much less straight-arming a tray of drinks over her head through a dark and crowded room. She was clumsy on the best of days.
But, she needed this job. Without it, she wouldn’t be able to make her loan payments for the next few months, and she’d lose everything she’d worked for. Asking her parents to rescue her was out of the question. Her family was supportive of anything she did, but she wanted to stand on her own two feet this time. Calling them would mean failure, and that would be as bad as losing her business.
Lily shoved the thought aside and began to wend her way through the tables fronting the stage. She tried not to gape as one of the dancers on stage mimicked things with the pole that made Lily want to blush and run the other way. She’d never really thought of herself as prude, but good heavens, there were just some things you shouldn’t do with a pole. And, certainly not in public.
Only two more steps, she whispered under her breath. One more. She could feel the glasses begin to slide on top of the tray. She tilted her wrist to the left to compensate and knew almost immediately that it was too much. Too far. She tilted back the other way, trying to regain the balance, but the tray was hopelessly unsteady at that point. Her eyes caught on Katie’s from across the room just as the tray, the glasses, and all of the liquor in those glasses, came tumbling down.
Lily closed her eyes, knowing where those drinks were falling. Right on top of the guests sitting at table nineteen. A table of three men she’d been told were from the San Francisco Strikers. Players who often came in to relax after a game, ran up big tabs, and left generous tips. And one of them, a very tall, very strong looking, Greek god of a man, was now looking up at her from beneath his very wet hair.
“Oh, shoot!” she whispered as she s
aw her manager making a beeline for her, the jowls under his chin wobbling in anger as he worked up a good froth around his mouth.
Lily turned to the player, now mopping his face with a napkin. “I’m so, so sorry, sir.”
She didn’t get out another word before Donny was on her, jowls and all.
“That’s it, girlie. You’re out of here. I never should have even let you come in today. I knew yesterday, you were too damned much trouble to keep around. Klutzy as all get out and not much to look at,” he said, loud enough for everyone around them to hear, even with the booming music.
“Hey, buddy,” came from the sexy voice of the god she’d dropped all her drinks on. He rose to his full height and, oh my, it was an impressive height. “That’s no way to talk to a lady. And, besides, she’s a hell of a lot to look at.”
The big guy grinned down at her, and she was torn between being offended and the thrill his assessment gave her. But, she didn’t have time to analyze that. She was busy being fired. She did take the time to notice Donny’s sudden concern for the guest’s opinion, though. He turned to the big guy and began the kowtowing routine she’d seen him use on others.
“We’ll pay for your dry cleaning, sir. I’m so sorry. She won’t be a bother again. She won’t be working here anymore.”
The big guy laughed. “Dry cleaning?” He looked down at his clothes. “I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I doubt I’ll need dry cleaning. And, you’re not listening to me. I don’t want her to be fired. I want you to treat her with a little more respect. In fact, if she leaves, so do we.” He looked over his shoulder at his friends, who all shrugged their shoulders and nodded, clearly ready to follow his lead if that’s what he thought they should do.
“Now, Mr. Kyle,” Donny started and it dawned on Lily. The big guy was Aiden Kyle. The Aiden Kyle of the San Francisco Strikers. She didn’t follow baseball, but everyone who lived in the area would recognize the name and maybe even the face. Oh, that face. The mocha brown eyes and square jaw with a bit of stubble, framed by short-cropped brown hair. She wanted to stare at that face a bit longer, but the confrontation between he and Donny continued, pulling her attention.
Aiden Kyle raised a brow at Donny, crossed his arms over his extraordinary—truly, truly extraordinary—chest and stared him down. It didn’t take long for Donny to cave. Before she knew what happened, he was apologizing to her and telling her to try carrying the tray in front of her instead of over her head, then shooing her away without giving her a chance to apologize to Mr. Kyle again. Lily met Katie back at the waitress station and watched Donny fawn over the baseball players, before turning to her friend.
“I’m so sorry, Katie. I have a feeling I’m gonna cause a lot more trouble for you than you’d planned when you got me this job.”
“Nonsense, honey,” said Katie, giving her a hug. “I believe in you and your business. This is the only way you’ll make enough money fast enough to save it. You’re living my dream, girl. You’re making your own life, building it up just the way you want it. I’ll be stuck slinging drinks for pervs forever. But not you, kid.”
They watched as Donny went back to his perch at the side of the stage.
“Besides,” Katie grinned at Lily, “I think you have a fan. Aiden Kyle hasn’t stopped watching you all night.”
Lily turned to see Aiden’s eyes on her and felt her cheeks flush. Even though she felt great relief at still having a job, she had to wonder what was motivating the man. She knew she was bright red when the next thought dawned on her. She turned to Katie.
“Katie, you don’t think ... I mean, you don’t ... Do you think he wants something in exchange for helping me keep my job?” She chewed at her lower lip, not at all prepared to go that far to keep her job, loan to pay or not.
Katie’s grin got even bigger. “Shoot, girl. If he does, have fun with that.” Her friend’s eyes turned to the table where the famous pitcher still sat watching Lily through hooded eyes. “That is one fine, fine piece of man.”
Chapter Three
Aiden tried to ignore the nervous waitress for the third night in a row. She clutched her tray of drinks in front of her where they seemed to be only moderately safer than they had been over her head. He felt almost obligated to come to the club now for a short time each night, since he’d threatened to stop coming if she lost her job. If he stopped showing up, her boss might let her go. But, this was getting out of hand.
Each night, he sat and pretended not to track her every move for an hour or two, ordering drinks he didn’t want and watching out of the corner of his eye as men groped her when she set their drinks down in front of them. How she could handle the humiliation was beyond him. I mean, sure, he came here and paid to watch the strippers, but he never laid his hands on the waitresses or any of the dancers. That just wasn’t cool.
And watching these rat wads do that to her was pissing him off. She was so clearly out of her element. He had been wondering for days now what had brought her here. What was it that would drive a woman so utterly innocent looking in every way to serve drinks in a strip club in that skimpy outfit showcasing her breasts and highlighting every other asset she’d been blessed with? And blessed was the right word there. The woman had it all. Her breasts might be a little smaller than some of the other women here, but Aiden actually liked that they were neither too big nor too small. She had honey blonde hair and deep brown eyes, with perfect lips that begged to be nibbled and licked. And legs that wouldn’t quit. Legs that should be wrapped around his waist as he—Hell, he sounded like a cliché.
His friends had left half an hour ago, but he’d decided to stay until closing time tonight, determined to talk to her so he could put an end to this. Because he needed to put an end to this. If he continued to come watch her every night after his games, he’d be trying to take her home soon.
And with the Triple Play Curse in effect, that could not happen.
She sidled up to his table now, a small anxious look on her face. She always seemed more nervous around him. Distrustful, almost, which really ticked him off. Hell, he was the one damn customer who had never laid a finger on her.
“Can I get you another drink? It’s almost last call,” she said, looking at him with those guileless eyes.
“What’s your name?” he asked, ignoring her question and replacing it with one of his own.
“Jazzy,” she said, no smile this time.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Your real name. Not the freak name they gave you when you started working here.”
She bit her lip and glanced at her manager out of the corner of her eye, twisting her body so he wouldn’t be able to make out what she was saying.
“Lily. My name is Lily.”
Good. She was talking to him. Now he just needed to get her out of here. Maybe get her another job or give her some money to tide her over. Something.
Anything to get out of having to see her every damn night.
Lily watched Aiden cautiously, wondering why he was talking to her tonight. For the last few nights since she’d dropped that tray of drinks on him, he’d come in late, always after midnight, and she’d felt his eyes on her. But, he hadn’t talked to her yet. Katie thought it was cute, but Lily didn’t. Lily was beginning to think it was creepy. And, yet, here she was telling him her name. Her real name.
She mentally rolled her eyes at herself, but she owed the man. A little conversation wouldn’t hurt her—but that was all she was giving him. He might have saved her job, but if he wanted what she thought he wanted, she wasn’t willing to go there.
“Why are you working here?” was his next question, surprising the heck out of her. That wasn’t what she expected. Relaxing a bit, she gave him a sad smile.
“I need to earn some money quickly.”
“For what?”
Boy, what was it with this guy? He needed her life story?
“Hey, Jazzy,” called one of the drunk guys at the table next to them, “bring that sweet body of yours over he
re. I need another drink.” He held up his glass and leaned back in his chair, leering at Lily’s backside.
She blushed furiously. It was bad enough when guys like him talked to her like that, but having Aiden hear it made it all that much more difficult for some reason.
The bouncer in the corner shook his head slightly at Lily as he approached the men. She knew he’d put them in a cab and send them on their way. They weren’t in any shape to drink anymore tonight.
“For what, Lily? What do you need money for?” Aiden asked again, more insistently this time.
Since the place was clearing out for the night and her manager had gone in the back, she leaned a hip against the chair next to him and dropped her tray to her side.
“I got in a little over my head and have to get out of it.”
His brow raised. “Over your head? With what? Gambling? Not drugs,” he said, looking her up and down, and she laughed at that. She was so clean she didn’t even drink most of the time.
“No. I ... it’s stupid.” She looked away from him. Talking about her failures wasn’t easy.
He didn’t respond. Just looked at her and waited, like he expected her to answer. She sighed.
“I own a business designing custom meals based on the client’s individual nutritional needs. I’m good at what I do, but apparently, I don’t have a real head for business. When I created my business plan, I underestimated a few things and I ran out of seed money six months earlier than I’d hoped to. I have a loan on the van I use to deliver the meals. If I don’t work here, I’ll lose the van and lose my business, even though I know I’m close to making it work. I just need six more months and working here can get me that.”