“Well, the next hour of your life is going to be spent here, so you can either try to learn something from this man who’s taking time out of his day to teach you, or you can look like a fool in front of your entire school, but by God, if you don’t at least tryout, you’ll be grounded until you go to college. I’ll be back in one hour. Pay attention!” With that, her mother spun around, marched toward the car, and pulled out of the parking space with a loud, angry squeal.
That left him alone with Katie/Catherine.
They stared at one another for a few seconds. He’d been totally taken off guard by the whole dramatic scene. What the hell did he do with this?
“This is wasting your time,” she finally said, defeat ringing heavy in her voice.
“I’m getting paid either way.” Jace faced the girl directly. When she still didn’t move, did nothing more than kick at the dirt with her booted foot, he continued, “You know, this is good exercise if nothing else.” Jace turned away, picking up his water bottle and unscrewed the lid. “You’re not dressed appropriately though. You should probably find some black athletic shorts and a solid black T-shirt, maybe some all black tennis shoes and socks for tomorrow.”
Katie smiled when he started on the black garments, totally getting his joke then frowned instantly when he said the word tomorrow.
“Come on. Let’s do some stretches and talk,” he said, motioning her over to the pads. She slowly made her way over and stood on the opposite side of the mat.
“You look like a cheerleader. I don’t look anything like one,” she said, flipping her finger the length of his body. Jace glanced down. He wore sweatpants, and a sweatshirt—nothing indicating he’d ever cheered before.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Yeah, you do. I bet you have some cheery cheerleader girlfriend, and you have a perfect cheerleader life. My mom would just love that.”
There was so much said in all those sentences, giving him insight into her possible insecurity. Instead of trying to talk around all those preconceived notions, Jace just barked out a laugh. “Don’t pre-judge things you don’t know anything about. That’s our first lesson.”
After a second or two, she looked down at the mat before taking a seat on the end. He took the move as a peace offering and sat beside her, deciding on honesty.
“If I can get you ready for tryouts, your dad’s gonna move my shift. I need that shift move. I don’t know if we can get you ready in time, but I know, without question, it won’t happen with this attitude you’ve got. So either you get on board and we do this thing or we can destroy the very last bit of hope I have.”
“I’m not cheerleader material,” she said, picking at her bootlace.
“We don’t know that. Let’s see if we can get your skill level there. If we can’t, then you don’t have to worry about the look. If I think there’s a serious chance you could make it, then we’ll work on your fashion statement. What’d you say?” Jace asked, placing his bent finger under her chin, then lifting her face to his.
“Okay. But you talk to me, not my mom,” she said and started unlacing her boots.
Jace just laughed at the spark of rebellion that returned in full force. “Deal. Let’s begin with stretching and seeing where you are.”
Three weeks later
Jace stood in front of six tumbling mats and couldn’t believe his eyes. He counted loudly, watching Katie and five of her friends execute near perfect toe touches while the girls’ parents sat in lawn chairs not even ten feet away, watching their children with pride one day before tryouts.
“Katie, tuck those hips like I taught you. Mallory, point those toes. Always, always point those toes, ladies.” Jace clapped his hands and started walking a full circle around the mats. “Let’s start from the beginning. I want you to yell as if you have to be heard over the roar of the crowd. Got it? Loud and sharp. Katie, call it.”
And she did, the girls starting their tryout cheer from the beginning. They were sharp, on time, and each was now able to do a back walkover. Jace made the circle and lifted a hand to cover the grin spreading across his face. He wouldn’t have ever guessed they’d only been practicing for a couple of weeks. The girls looked like a real cheerleading team. He was so proud of them.
“All right, water break, and let’s go over everything individually then I want you girls to go home, have a good dinner, and rest for tomorrow. Got it. Bed early tonight. You need to be rested for tryouts.” He left them, going toward his bench, reaching for his water bottle.
“Jace, Morgan—the school’s head cheerleader—wants to come practice. We told her we were trying to talk you into starting an all-star gym,” Katie, his little goth superstar cheerleader, declared happily. Her mom, Connie, walked up behind her excited daughter, a big smile lighting her face as she wrapped an arm around Katie’s shoulders.
“They elected me the official team mom. We’ve all voted. We’re in for participating in an all-star team, Jace.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder toward the other parents still sitting in their lawn chairs, all grinning broadly. Connie extended her other hand, handing over a wad of cash. These girls were meeting four times a week, and he’d made solid bank, pulling in a ton of extra cash. He couldn’t believe his luck.
“Look, let’s get through tomorrow. You guys make the team, we’ll talk about building an all-star team. Deal?” he said, looking at the pack of girls who had surrounded him, showing support for Katie’s idea.
“I think you should do that anyway, whether we make the team or not. You should start your own gym.” Katie challenged him like she always did. “And call it Cheer Dynasty!”
Starting an all-star team was a big commitment. He’d have to find a better place to practice, get better mats. As good as they had gotten, they were still very under-skilled for competitive cheer. But honestly, he’d been happier these past couple of weeks than he had in a year. He hadn’t even thought about Colt.
Not really.
Maybe a little at night, but definitely not that heartsick funk he’d been dwelling in. Jace lifted his gaze to Connie. He’d have to have parental support to pull this off. He’d have to lean on this group to help get them started. Connie met his gaze and nodded brightly at him.
“Okay. You’re on. But no more talk about this now. Tryouts tomorrow, then we’ll meet back here next Monday to iron out all the details. Deal?” He didn’t even get the words out before the girls ran to him, jumping up and down, even the moms that came got involved in the excitement. “Back in your places! Let’s get this finished.” It still took a good five minutes to calm them down, so they could complete their workout.
Colt Michaels,
Professional Football Super Star
Fall 2006
Whoever created fluorescent lighting had to be the stupidest motherfucker on the planet. Colt reached for his ball cap and sunglasses, shoving those over his eyes before he dropped his shoes on the floor, sliding each one in place while swinging his packed duffel bag over his shoulder.
“Hey, watch it,” some loser said, pushing Colt’s bag back around and knocking him off balance. That thoroughly pissed Colt off even more than the fucked-up lighting. Who cared that he hadn’t even considered someone might be behind him, his head pounded, and the noise of the airport exploded through his brain while some dinky jerk gave him attitude because his bag might have gotten in the guy’s way. Colt growled his response and purposefully knocked the guy in the shoulder as he started for his gate.
Where was his gate? Hell, where was his damn ticket? Colt stopped in the middle of the crowded airport walkway, dropped his bag to the floor, and crouched as he unzipped the thing.
“Buddy, what the hell?” someone said behind him, wobbling on his feet as he tried to dodge the Colt-shaped obstacle in the middle of his path. Another woman with a kid and a rolling suitcase ran over a portion of his of duffel bag strap.
“What the fuck’s wrong with this town?” Colt grumbled at all the aggression
he’d been getting since he’d left the hotel that morning.
“You’re the one in the way,” the woman answered as if he’d even been talking to her. He lifted his gaze to meet hers, giving her his most menacing sneer.
He got back down to business, searched the contents of his bag and located his wallet with the ticket inside. He stood and scanned the overhead signs. Of course, he was headed the wrong way—story of his damn day. With a sigh and droop of his shoulders, he headed in the opposite direction, navigating through oncoming traffic, bulldozing his way through to the other side of the airport.
He got to his departure gate at the same moment the airlines called for a delay. “Motherfucker!” he exclaimed loudly, and that sent a stabbing pain through the center of his skull as stars shot through his vision. He pressed the heel of his hand to the side of his head and turned in a full circle. He needed a damn Bloody Mary. He had gone on a bender after last night’s game and missed his fucking flight home. He now had to pay his own way, because this wasn’t the first, or even second, time he’d missed a team flight. He was being punished and that pissed him off too.
Colt scanned the restaurants in the corridor surrounding his gate, found a TGI Friday’s and headed that direction. He was less than ten feet from the only vacant seat at the bar when a glare caught his attention. He glanced over, narrowed his eyes, and stumbled on his feet, crashing into the wall separating the restaurant from a convenience store. None of that mattered. His gaze landed and stayed transfixed on a Sport’s Illustrated cover with Jace’s handsome face prominent among a sea of cheerleaders.
The image called to his very soul. Colt had no choice but to walk the few steps to the rack and pick up the magazine. He ran his fingertips over the glossy cover, staring down at the beautiful man on the page. His Jace. The love of his life. The man he’d hurt. The man that owned his heart even to this day. Tears sprang to Colt’s eyes, and he fought the sudden wealth of emotion as he read the cover tag line: Meet the Man Behind Cheer Dynasty.
Colt opened the magazine, flipped through the pages for the index. He scanned down the selections, his patience waning until he found the cover article in the back of the magazine. He turned to the story, and his heart stopped in his chest.
There stood Jace, not the boy he remembered, but instead, a gorgeous man. The photographer had captured a candid shot. Jace wasn’t looking at the lens in this picture. He was dressed in athletic shorts and a tight-fitting T-shirt. His broad arms were crossed over his expansive chest, his enormous thighs sculpted and on display. Jace stared at something in the distance. He looked fierce and dominate, in control of whatever he was doing. Colt’s hungover cotton-mouth watered at how beautiful a man Jace had turned out to be.
He scanned the next page. Every shot showcased Jace doing something different. In a four-picture action series, Jace tumbled across the mat. In another set of three photographs, Jace watched one of his teams in a competition. He was dressed in jeans and a dress shirt that did nothing to hide all the muscle pushing against the fabric. Stunning. Colt’s eyes teared up again. Jace could have been his, and he’d let him go. What a stupid, stupid move. How his father had ruined his life with nothing more than fear was beyond him now, but at the time, he’d truly believed his old man would have Jace killed to keep him out of the picture.
Since Colt had woken this morning, the bile he’d barely kept down rose in his gut, and he struggled to force it back down. Colt grabbed all ten or so magazines from the stack. He wanted every single one of them. Hell, he wanted a pallet-load. As he started for the counter, he realized this couldn’t be the first time Jace had been in print. If Jace was highlighted in something as big as SI, he had to have built a name for himself. Colt dumped the magazines on the counter, only grunted his approval that, yes, indeed, he did want them all and reached for his wallet to dig out his credit card.
How in the world could he get his hands on any past published information? Maybe he could call in some favors from some of the reporters who’d gotten to know him.
“Sir, the card’s declined.”
Colt looked at the older woman behind the registered and had to think over what she’d said.
“Try it again,” he said.
“I did, twice.”
Well, damn. His father had to be behind that. Colt reached in his wallet, handing over another card and waited.
“This one declined too.”
He had told his old man to stop spending so much money. What did it even take to decline an American Express with no limit?
“How much for these?”
“Fifty-four dollars,” she said, and he pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and started to hand it over but stopped. He’d have to get home from the airport. An unrealistic anger shot through him. The expletives he gave had the woman behind the counter taking a step back. He couldn’t help it. His father was coming between him and Jace…again.
With a herculean effort, Colt calmed himself and picked up one magazine, then another. Two would be enough for now. He paid for those, pocketing the change, then he grabbed the bag while dialing his manager slash father’s phone. Of course, it went to voicemail. “My card’s declined. It better be fixed before I get home.”
He had no doubt it wouldn’t be. Instead of getting lost in the shit show called his life, he sat down at the gate, dropped his bag between his feet, and read the article. In those few brief minutes, Colt’s heart was happy again—such a foreign feeling. When he’d finished taking in every picture and reading every line in the story, he started right back from the beginning, and slowly read every single word again.
Family Matters
With Jace Montgomery’s attention divided between the hard-headed Colt Michaels and the parking lot of his cheerleading gym, he slowed his sports car to a crawl, coming to a crooked stop in the closest-ish parking spot to the front doors of the empty building. His gaze turned fully to Colt while carefully pushing the gearshift into first and killing the engine.
“Let me help you,” Jace said, shoving open the driver’s side door.
“Montgomery, if you come anywhere near this side of this vehicle, I’m gonna hit you with my cane,” Colt threatened, swinging a serious gaze Jace’s direction.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Jace replied, his frustration mounting at Colt’s show of unnecessary independence.
“That may be, but I’m not meeting your mother with you hovering. I’m walking in that gym under my own power or I’m not going.” Colt stared him down, mouth clamped shut. The tic in his clenched jaw couldn’t be missed as the stubborn man waited for Jace to agree.
How many times had Jace told Colt that his mother didn’t care? She’d been chomping at the bit to meet Colt, to jump in and help the man, and he’d stubbornly kept her at a distance. First, he’d said he’d meet her once he could wipe his own ass. Then he’d moved the meeting until he could walk again on his own. For some reason, Colt wanted to give her a hug and apologize for the pain he’d caused. Jace hadn’t even shared the details of their breakup with his mother. An apology wasn’t necessary.
“You’re ridiculous and frustrating,” Jace finally declared, rolling his eyes, leaving the car with a decided slam of his door to punctuate his annoyance. He headed to the sidewalk in front of his parking space and stood there, arms crossed over his chest, right leg anxiously bouncing as Colt slowly pulled himself from the vehicle and found his balance before letting go of the white-knuckle grip he had on the car door.
It took every bit of Jace’s willpower to stay planted in his spot. It took Colt five full minutes and lots of help from his cane to slowly walk toward him. “You shouldn’t be doing this, Colt.”
“Shhh,” Colt said, concentrating on his steps as he passed Jace. “It’s a beautiful building.”
“Thanks,” Jace grumbled, moving around Colt, going to the front doors. He unlocked those, lowered the doorstop to keep one open for Colt, and went for the security keypad, quickly entering the code to disa
rm the alarm system. Though closer, Colt had yet to make it to the front doors. The pain on his face was evident. He refused all pain medication, and he overdid everything—all his workouts and rehab—trying to get out of the hospital and home with Jace.
Jace had never truly seen the determined side of Colt before. He was a force and extremely hardheaded to say the least.
When Colt got to the door, he paused. “I saw these in the ESPN report. They looked cool as shit then. Better in person.” He ran his fingertips over the etched paw print in the door.
Colt praising the doors Jace had loved so much shifted his attention. But then Colt’s hand shook as he pulled his fingers from the glass, and Jace couldn’t take another minute. He went to Colt’s side. “Please let me help.”
This time, Colt took his arm, leaning heavily on him. “I wanna see the place. I feel like I know it, but it’s all new.”
“You can have a tour later, when you’re up to it,” Jace suggested, guiding Colt to the sofas in the lobby.
“No, take me to the main room. The one with all the trophies and different floors,” Colt insisted, starting to pull away from his hold. That obstinance was back and Colt shuffled toward the hallway leading to the back offices.
“You did pay attention, but it’s this way.” Jace took Colt’s arm again. A few minutes later, they got to the main gym floor. Jace guided a heavily breathing Colt to a row of bleachers before going to the light switch. The overhead lights flashed on with Jace covering his eyes and Colt gasping his surprise.
“It’s huge!”
Jace just smiled at his surprise. It was the largest cheerleading gym in the world. This room held three full size spring floors with a row of trampolines, two tumble tracks, and a large foam pit between the two. Yeah, it was large.
Nice Guys Collection With Added Bonus Material Page 30