Barefoot Bay: Come And Get Your Love (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Maria Geraci

  Table of Contents

  BAREFOOT BAY: COME AND GET YOUR LOVEMaria GeraciDear Reader,

  Dear Reader,

  CHAPTER ONETucson, Arizona

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dear Reader,

  More from Maria Geraci:Barefoot Bay: Hold On To ForeverThat Thing You DoThen He Kissed Me

  About the Author

  Text copyright ©2016 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Roxanne St. Claire. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Barefoot Bay remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Roxanne St. Claire, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  BAREFOOT BAY:

  COME AND GET YOUR LOVE

  Maria Geraci

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to Barefoot Bay Kindle Worlds, a place for authors to write their own stories set in the tropical paradise that I created! For these books, I have only provided the setting of Mimosa Key and a cast of characters from my popular Barefoot Bay series. That’s it! I haven’t contributed to the plotting, writing, or editing of Come and Get Your Love. This book is entirely the work of author Maria Geraci, a power voice in contemporary romance today.

  I could not be happier to welcome back Maria Geraci for her second Barefoot Bay Kindle Worlds title. Once again, she treats us to unforgettable characters, hilarious situations, and heartbreaking romance. Throw in a bad boy baseball player and the girl whose job it is to keep him in line and you have one fun read. Enjoy!

  Roxanne St. Claire

  PS. If you’d like to read all of the Barefoot Bay Kindle Worlds novels, or would like to explore the possibility of writing your own book set in my world, stop by www.roxannestclaire.com for details!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Tucson, Arizona

  “Oh my God! You’re that guy that hit the home run!” The blonde leaned across the bar stool and placed her hand on his inner thigh. Normally, stuff like this didn’t bother him. He was Brian “Boom-Boom” Callahan and it was part of the package. He was nice to his fans. Nice to the reporters, who one day might not care what he had to say. And especially nice to the groupies, who he’d learned a long time ago to smile at and avoid, because nothing good ever came from a one-night stand with a woman who only wanted you because you were famous.

  Right now, however, it took everything Brian had to be that nice guy. He shouldn’t have gone out tonight, not in the foul mood he was in, but it was a team tradition. After every home game the guys who didn’t have families (and occasionally, some who did) came out to The Bomb Shelter, the local bar that catered to fans of their major league baseball team, the Tucson Bombers. Normally, even after a loss, team spirits were high. But not tonight. Tonight sucked donkey balls.

  “How’s it going, darlin’?” he asked, discreetly shuffling in his seat so that the blonde had no choice but to remove her hand.

  “You’re Boom-Boom, right?” Her words were slurred, but she wasn’t the only one who’d had too much to drink. The whole team was half way to falling down around him. They’d been doing tequila shots for the past hour, but not Brian. He was too depressed to get drunk. Even though they were a month away till the playoffs, tonight’s loss had cemented the Bombers’ position in the division. It didn’t matter if they won every game from here on out, they’d still be where they were. Last fucking place with nowhere to go.

  Not because of him, though. He’d had a stellar season. And tonight had been no different. He’d hit two singles, a double and a home run. Not that it did any good with a pitching staff riddled with so many injuries they might as well be part of The Walking Dead cast.

  “Boom-Boom Callahan, that’s me.” He drained his beer and signaled the bartender to close out his tab.

  The blonde leaned in. “I’ve heard some really big rumors about you,” she purred into his ear.

  He turned to look at her. “Don’t believe ‘em.”

  Her eyes widened. “But you don’t even know what they are!”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “You’re funny!” She giggled, and for a moment, he thought about going for it. It had been too long since he’d gotten laid. His last relationship had ended almost six months ago and he’d been living like a monk. But he didn’t take advantage of drunk women.

  “Can I take a picture with you?” Before he could answer, she whipped out her cell phone and leaned back against his chest, positioning herself for a selfie. He automatically smiled as the flash went off. “Thanks!” She eyed him like a prize hog at the county fair. “So don’t you want to know about that rumor?”

  He was about to tell her no, he really didn’t want to know about the rumor, but she whispered it in his ear anyway.

  God Almighty. He’d heard it a million times before and it still made his ears go red. “Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but that’s not how I got the nickname Boom-Boom.”

  “It’s not?”

  A strong arm came from behind to wrap around his neck in a playful chokehold. “Nope,” said Austin Malloy, the team’s short stop and Brian’s best friend since the two of them had been drafted eight years ago. “He got that nickname because he can hit a ball better than anyone in the game.” Austin put his hands together to imitate a swing. “The first boom is when the ball strikes his bat, and then the second boom is when said ball flies out of the stadium. Get it? Boom-Boom!” He lowered his voice into game announcer mode. “And it’s another homerun for Brian Callahan!”

  She eyed Brian with renewed interest. “So you’re a big star, huh?”

  Brian shrugged. Big was a relative term, especially when you played for a losing franchise like the Bombers. The blonde openly gaped at Austin. “And you’re on the team, too?”

  “On the team? Baby, I am the team.” Austin winked at him and turned his full attention to the woman, who openly welcomed it.

  Brian smiled to himself. As far as wingmen went, Austin was the worst, or the best, depending on how you looked at it. He had absolutely no interest in the blonde, and his friend knew it, so Brian welcomed the steal. He got up from his seat with every intention of leaving the bar, but on his way out a couple of his other teammates enveloped him into a group man hug.

  “Big Daddy” Pedro Gutierrez, the team catcher, eyed him solemnly. “Are you okay to drive, Boom-Boom?” Pedro was thirty-eight, on the old side to be a catcher but still the best at his job in Brian’s opinion. Pedro’s knees, however, had other ideas. Pedro had announced he would retire at the end of the season and Brian hated for his friend’s career to end on a losing streak.

  “No worries. I’ve just had one beer, but in any case, I’m Ubering it tonight.”

  Marcus Jeffers, their third baseman, who’d been having a rough last month, reeked of alcohol. “It’s not fair…not fair at all,” he said, slurring even worse than the blonde had. “We can’t help it if our pitching sucks.”

  “Our pitching doesn’t suck,” Pedro said, ever the team cheerleader, “not when our guys are healthy, at least.”

  “Did you hear the news, Boom-Boom? I’m going down to the minors.” Marcus’s voice wavered on the edge of tears. “A couple of crappy games a
nd I’m done, man.”

  “No way.” Pedro caught Brian’s eye and silently nodded. “Shit!” The expletive came out louder than Brian intended, but he didn’t care. Marcus was an A plus player who didn’t deserve to be sent down.

  “It’s the new owners,” Pedro said. “They’re giving Neil some major grief.”

  “You don’t think—”

  “That they’ll get rid of Neil?” Pedro shrugged. “All I know is that none of us are safe right now.”

  The team had been sold a couple of weeks ago and the new owners were out for blood. It wasn’t fair that they were giving Neil Jorgensen, the Bombers’ long-time manager, a hard time about the team’s losing season. Every team went through its ups and downs. Neil was a fine manager who worked hard to bring out the best in his players and Brian respected him. Brian was Arizona born and bred. He’d grown up in the mountains of Sierra Vista and played college ball for the Wildcats. He’d never played professionally for anyone but Neil Jorgenson, and he didn’t want to either.

  Tonight was getting worse by the second.

  “You’ll find yourself back here in no time, man,” Brian said, trying his best to give Marcus some encouragement.

  “That’s right,” Pedro agreed. “You’ll be back. I was sent down for a season in my third year. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “Really?” Marcus said, and Pedro nodded, although none of them really believed it right now. “It’s just… Carina and the kids. How am I going to tell them? And my parents? They’re so damn proud that I’m a Bomber, and now…”

  He shook his head, unable to finish his sentence, and Brian was struck by the precariousness of their positions. Their careers, their livelihood, the game they loved—all of it was out of their control. He’d never felt so helpless before. What would he do if he was Marcus? If he was the one being sent down to the minors?

  A river of cold dread snaked up his spine, making him shiver. His head throbbed from the loud music and his right elbow needed to be iced, but that would have to wait till later. Five minutes ago he was on his way out the door but he couldn’t leave Marcus in his hour of need.

  “Let me buy you a drink,” Brian said.

  Pedro frowned. “You sure that’s a good idea, Boom-Boom?”

  “Hell, why not?”

  Marcus brightened. “Excellent idea, dude! Let’s get totally shit-faced until we don’t care if we ever see a baseball again!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  One week later

  Mimosa Key, Florida

  Aubrey Adams had been in Mimosa Key for exactly one week and despite the fact that she was generally an upbeat kind of person, she was beginning to regret the hasty decision to move here. But then, what other choice did she have? The PR company she and her partner, Felicity Reed, had worked so hard to keep afloat the past few years had been on the brink of bankruptcy. Moving the company from Orlando to Mimosa Key, a small beach town on Florida’s west coast, had been their only option. Here, they could start fresh, with a new kind of client that suited their talents.

  Not that there had been anything wrong with their old clientele. It just wasn’t theirs. Under the direction of Felicity’s father, the agency had been a huge success, but despite the fact that she and Felicity had tried to keep the agency together after David Reed’s death, they’d slowly lost all their business. Then last month, after attending her little sister’s wedding in nearby Barefoot Bay, everything had changed. Felicity had fallen in love with a capital L. And not just to anyone. She’d fallen in love with Florida’s biggest and baddest personal injury attorney, Jack Martinez.

  Jack and his family were famous, or infamous, depending on which side of the courtroom you were on. Martinez and Martinez were the largest personal injury law firm in the state. Aubrey had half fallen in love with Jack herself just from his image on the gazillion billboards littering the Florida highways promoting his family business. Except, Aubrey didn’t do love. Lust, okay. But love was messy. She’d leave the mushy stuff to Felicity.

  Jack had promised Felicity a huge chunk of his law firm’s PR business, but Felicity, being Felicity, had rejected it on the grounds that his internal marketing was better than anything they could do. Lofty ethics, to be sure, but it didn’t pay the rent. Felicity had already pitched the Barefoot Brides, a select bridal consultant company located in Casa Blanca Spa & Resort, the island’s upscale hotel, and the bridal consultants were interested in using their new firm, although they hadn’t signed a contract yet. If they didn’t get a solid client soon, Felicity’s moral high ground was going to land them both in the poor house.

  Aubrey pulled her Jeep into the Super Min and filled up her tank with gas. Located at the corner of Mimosa Key’s historic four way intersection, it was the town’s only convenience store. Just down the road was Center Street with a variety of shops that catered to the tourists, as well as Reed and Adams Marketing and Public Relations’ new office. After living all her life in bustling Orlando, little Mimosa Key was going to take some getting used to. One thing that Aubrey certainly didn’t mind leaving behind was Orlando’s traffic. But the anonymity that came with living in a big city? That, she would definitely miss.

  She took a deep breath for what she knew was coming and opened the door to the Super Min as she steeled herself to come face to face with her new nemesis.

  “Well, look who the cat dragged in.” Charity Grambling stood behind the counter with a magazine in her hand. She was an older lady, with short frizzy hair and beady brown eyes. On the surface she seemed like a June bug, perfectly harmless. But inside? She was all wasp. She and her sister Patience owned the Super Min and were the town’s most notorious busybodies.

  Aubrey plucked a bottled water and a bag of donuts from the rack and laid them on the counter. “I don’t understand. I’ve only been in here twice. Why don’t you like me? It’s not like I was the one who played the trick on you.”

  “Guilt by association,” Charity quipped.

  Sometime during their week of “falling in love,” Jack and Felicity had come into the Super Min. According to their story, Charity had been rude, to the point of almost accusing them of shoplifting, until she’d mistaken Jack for the actor Matt Bomer, then she’d practically fallen all over them. Instead of correcting her, however, Jack and Felicity had led Charity on, even going so far as to have Jack sign a fake autograph for her.

  The incident had seemed harmless enough, until Charity had discovered that she’d been duped. Now, all three of them, Jack, Felicity and Aubrey included, were paying the price. They were all persona non grata in Charity’s eyes, which wouldn’t be such a big deal except you couldn’t really live in Mimosa Key and avoid the Super Min.

  “That’s totally unfair. I wasn’t even here when the um…incident happened.”

  “Tough.” Charity rang up the items with one eye still on the gossip magazine in her hand.

  “You’re going to like me eventually.”

  “Nope.” She handed Aubrey her change and went back to reading.

  “What’s so interesting?” Aubrey asked. Partly because she was determined to get on Charity’s good side and partly because she was curious.

  Charity glanced up, her eyes gleamed with a sparkle that Aubrey was beginning to suspect could only come from a juicy celebrity tidbit. Apparently, the opportunity to exchange a bit of gossip outweighed her dislike. She turned the magazine over and Aubrey was hit with a full color layout of a naked man running through what appeared to be a parking lot. The view was from the backside and, to put it simply…

  “Wow. Nice buns.”

  “Aren’t they? They belong to Boom-Boom Callahan.” Charity sighed like a thirteen-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.

  “Who?”

  “You don’t know who Boom-Boom Callahan is? Where have you been living? The moon?”

  “Is he like a rock star or something?”

  “He might as well be. He’s baseball’s most famous playboy.” She eyed
Aubrey with a mixture of suspicion and disbelief. “Really? You’ve never heard of him? What kind of public relations person are you? He plays for the Tucson Bombers and was People magazine’s sexiest man alive last year.”

  “I don’t follow baseball,” Aubrey said.

  “Well, that explains it. Another reason I shouldn’t like you. Who in the world doesn’t like baseball? People who don’t love America, that’s who.”

  Oh, good grief. “I adore America. As well as hot dogs, apple pie and, as you can see,” she said, pointing to her parked Jeep through the convenience store windows, “I also drive an American made car. That’s, you know, basically three out of the four.”

  Charity looked unimpressed.

  “So why is he streaking? Drunken night of partying?”

  “Apparently he was trying to console Marcus Jeffers, that’s the Bombers’ third baseman. He’s just been sent down to their minor league franchise.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  Charity rolled her eyes, making them bug out even more. “You really are clueless, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely. Clueless on baseball that is. What’s so bad about being sent to the minors?”

  “For the love of—being sent down to the minors is like being demoted. It means you’re no longer in the show.”

  “The show?”

  “Haven’t you ever seen Bull Durham? Rent it. It’s an older film, but it’s got Kevin Costner when he was still a stud so it’s totally worth it.”

  Aubrey glanced at the magazine layout to check out the rest of the pictures in the article. A blonde woman with lots of makeup and a miniskirt stood next to this Brian Callahan character, who had his arm around her. Thankfully, in that picture, “Boom-Boom” was fully dressed. The caption read, Baseball’s bad boy goes on a drunken spree!

  “Is this his girlfriend?” Aubrey asked, pointing to the photo.

  Charity snorted. “Hardly. More like a groupie he picked up for the night. The man is dating Taylor Swift, for Pete’s sake!”