by Ruby Forrest
“You can have me,” Ashlyn said. She stepped closer and pressed herself into Brandon. He groaned again, and Ashlyn felt a fear fluttering on the edge of her mind as she feared being rejected. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t be rejected. Not by Brandon. Brandon had begun to embody everything she wanted in a man. If he turned her down, then Ashlyn feared she might not ever find another man like him who was interested in her.
Brandon was shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. . .” Ashlyn hated the tears that built up and slid down her cheeks at the same time.
“Fine!” she shouted, louder than necessary. “I see it means nothing to you that I want to. . .” Ashlyn shook her head. It felt dirty saying it out loud, now that Brandon clearly didn’t care what she felt for him.
“Ashlyn,” Brandon said. He reached for her, but Ashlyn took a step back, wiping her own tears. “It is important to me. It means everything to me. That’s why I don’t know if I can just take you, even though everything inside me is telling me to do it. There’s still something inside me that says I shouldn’t.”
“Just do it!” Ashlyn said, trying to be defiant, even though she felt rejected.
Brandon tried to reach for her again, but Ashlyn crossed her arms and refused to melt into him. She stood like a statue as Brandon wrapped his arms around her. Ashlyn didn’t feel turned on anymore. She just wanted to go home and sleep. She wanted to go home to her mom, not her temporary home with these temporary crew mates.
Brandon kissed the side of Ashlyn’s head. He kissed it again, her hair pressing up against his lips. Ashlyn started crying. All of the rejection from previous men assaulted her. She remembered Javon’s interest, purely physical. Now here was Brandon, interested in her for some other reason, and she wasn’t allowing him to treat her like a lady. Ashlyn was broken.
Brandon gently stroked Ashlyn’s hair. Her tears eventually stopped, and she stopped shuddering. Brandon still held her. Then Ashlyn realized. Maybe Brandon didn’t really want her. Maybe he just saw her as a friend. But now, that couldn’t be. He had kissed her. He had held her hand. He was interested in her, even after most of his time working as an extra had ended.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Ashlyn murmured, still buried in Brandon’s shoulder. By this time, her arms were wrapped around him, and her eyes were closed. She felt at peace.
“Don’t apologize for being you,” Brandon gently reprimanded. “Remember, that’s one of the things I like about you. You are always so honest.”
“I don’t think you would like it about me if you were with me for a long time,” Ashlyn replied. “My mother always said that I was too emotional.”
Brandon laughed. He gave a real, from the belly laugh. “Yeah, people have said that about me too.”
Ashlyn pulled back and had to look Brandon full in the face. “What? No way.”
“Yes way! People say that I’m a guy. I’m not supposed to feel anything, but I do.” Brandon shrugged. “You just haven’t seen me get to that point yet.”
Ashlyn sighed. She no longer felt overwhelmed by the need to be needed. She felt overwhelmed with gratitude that some guys didn’t just jump at the chance to have her body. Some guys wanted to know her for who she was first.
Ashlyn looked at the ground as she reached around and re-fastened her bra. Maybe she wouldn’t do it tonight, but someday, if Brandon kept showing her this side of him, Ashlyn felt determined that she wouldn’t have sex with him, a simply physical thing. She would make love to him, something that involved the heart too.
The moment suddenly seemed too tender to do something so bonding. Ashlyn realized that she shouldn’t be so eager to give herself away. “I guess we should go back to the house now,” Ashlyn said as she took his hand. Brandon started pulling her in the other direction.
“Why? We’re already halfway there. We might as well take another trip to look at the hole in the sand.”
Ashlyn smiled. “Okay, I like the sound of that.” She wasn’t quite ready to leave Brandon yet anyway. She wanted to hold on to a little of the magic of the night. Ashlyn held Brandon’s hand tightly, and as they came up to the turtle nest, they saw that the crowd of people was more than double.
Brandon broke into a jog. “Come on! They’ve got to be hatching!”
Ashlyn and Brandon found their way along the edge of the passage so that they could see the little creatures moving.
“I’ve never seen turtles move so fast,” Ashlyn commented, in wonder of the baby turtles that were no bigger than the palm of her hand. There were hundreds of baby sea turtles, all following the passage down to the edge of the ocean. The turtles didn’t take notice of the large humans watching them. They had one goal only.
“How do they know to go toward the water?”
“The moon reflects off the water. They actually want to reach the moon, but the reflection throws them off.” Ashlyn smiled, not taking her eyes off the baby sea turtles. She couldn’t believe that she had finally gotten to see the turtles. The ranger was advising people not to take photos, so Ashlyn just watched. When the last baby turtle had found its way into the ocean, Ashlyn turned and smiled at Brandon.
“I guess we finally found what we are looking for,” Ashlyn replied. “We saw the turtles at last.”
“I wasn’t looking for the turtles,” Brandon said. “I was just looking for a way to spend more time with you.”
Ashlyn giggled, and the two kissed, once again igniting the fire in Ashlyn’s stomach. She knew that she felt something strong for Brandon that wasn’t just based on physical features. She had a friendship with him, just like the friendship she had had with Mark, before he had broken her trust.
The feelings of fear and distrust tumbled back into her thoughts. Could Brandon have a hidden side? How would she know if she knew him completely? Ashlyn sighed. She knew that she would just have to give him more time, more time before she would be able to completely get rid of the distrust she had for men.
THE END
A Secret Baby Sports Romance
Chapter 1
Lucas Ramirez groaned as he realized that the coach was going to make them run another mile, probably just for kicks. At twenty-three, Lucas knew that the odds were stacked against him as the youngest player on the team. Most people don’t get picked up fresh out of college, but he lucked out. But that wasn’t the only reason the odds were stacked against him. Lucas was also half Spanish, and he knew that it set him at a bit of a disadvantage because although most people would be horrified if you mentioned race within the NBA, he knew it was very much a thing. It wasn’t obvious, but he noticed the way some of his teammates snickered at the way he pronounced certain letters, and how they elbowed each other when they caught a glimpse of his Spanish flag tattoo. Maybe it was a bit cheesy, but he liked that tattoo. He hadn’t been to his country in five years, and he missed it terribly, but he knew that he was where he needed to be to make his dreams come true.
At 5’7’’ he was taller than most of the guys on the team which earned him respect, and with his jet black hair, chocolate brown eyes and fit physique most women would glance his way when he walked past.
He had a reputation for being the ladies’ man, and he enjoyed it.
It didn’t hurt too that once he threw in a word or two in Spanish, women would practically drool over him. It definitely didn’t hurt to be a Spaniard in America.
Lucas panted as his breathing began to turn a little ragged due to the fact that the coach had been over working them lately in preparation for the big game on Friday. He knew that the coach was doing what he thought needed to be done, but running the team ragged before the big game was only going to make them exhausted by the time the actual game would roll around.
He took in a huge gulp of air as he finally made it past the first mile, and he threw himself onto the wet grass and breathed deeply.
“Good job, Ramirez,” The Coach practically tossed at him as he jotted something
down on his clipboard. With side burns, a patch of receding blonde hair and a physique of someone who used to be in shape, Coach Carter looked like he was tough as nails on the outside, and for the most part he was, but only those on his team knew that he was a big softie on the inside. He was like a surrogate father to most of them, and they loved him even more for it.
Unable to do much, Ramirez simply grunted and gave his Coach a thumbs up as he waited for his lungs to stop feeling like they were on fire. The blood stopped pounding in his ears, and his lungs finally felt functional a few minutes later, and he raised his head a millimeter as he watched the rest of his teammates slowly cross the first mile and collapse much like he did.
“That was some fast running, Spanish,” one of his teammates, Keith threw at him as he grabbed a bottle of water. He screwed the cap open before he dumped the water all over his hair and shook it off.
Some of the other teammates yelled out insults at him as some of the droplets of water landed on their bodies, but most of them were too tired to actually do anything about it.
Lucas watched him carefully wondering if this was another one of their pranks, or if he generally meant it.
“Thanks, dude,” he offered cautiously as he threw himself back on the ground to gaze at the sun. He and Keith had been teammates for months now, but this was the first time he had spoken to Keith directly. He knew all about him of course, half English, half American with a legendary reputation with the ladies much like himself until he found out he had a kid.
That seemed to be the case with two other members as well, Blake and Mark.
He wondered how the hell they had managed to get themselves into this situation, and he thanked his lucky stars that he was fortunate enough to have avoided that scenario.
Although he never forgot the fact that he almost ended up in that very same position.
Her name was Lorena De la Vega.
She was a fiery brunette who had lived just across the street from him in Madrid, and her liquid grey eyes somehow managed to entice him. At the tender age of seventeen, he was convinced that he was in love. But, what he confused for love was probably nothing but lust and teenage hormones.
Lucas pulled the brakes on that train of thought as he slowly began to backtrack to whatever he was thinking about before that.
He tuned in just in time to hear his teammates talk about getting together later for a game of pool at this pub off Lincoln Boulevard.
“Can you play, Spanish?” Keith asked casually as he watched him.
Lucas froze as he realized for the first time that Keith was actually having a conversation with him that didn’t involve barking out tactics during a group huddle. The rest of the teammates seemed unaffected by the conversation, but he could tell by the way they tried to seem too nonchalant that they were actually listening.
Keith was offering him an olive branch, and for the life of him, Lucas couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he wondered at this sudden change of heart.
“I’m alright,” he said finally. In reality, he had probably only played pool once or twice in his entire life, but he supposed he could remember enough to get him through a game with the guys. Especially if it meant finally bonding with them.
“Join us tonight then, seven o’clock?”
“I’ll be there,” Lucas confirmed as he hoisted himself off the grass and headed towards the ice box with the water bottles.
Keith smiled at him and titled his water bottle in salute, and Lucas did the same as he wondered if Keith was up to something.
***
Lucas pulled up to the address that Keith had texted him three hours ago after having gone home, showered and had a bite to eat.
He frowned at the exterior with its bright neon light and the motorcycles parked out front. He usually avoided places like this because he knew that a lot of the people who hung out here were pure blooded Americans, and if they caught even a whiff of foreigner between them, they’d pounce like hellhounds.
He scratched the back of his head and wondered if it was really worth bonding with the guys. He supposed he could try to make a conscious effort to fit in, and that way he wouldn’t have to turn around and leave especially because he wouldn’t have a good excuse as to why he didn’t show up.
He already said he’d be here, and it was bad form to ditch them on the first time they had asked him to hang. He was sure if he did that, there wouldn’t be a second one.
Lucas squared his shoulders and figured if worst came to worst, he’d just walk away. It’s not like he couldn’t control his temper, he knew exactly when to back off and when to fight back, and he hoped it would be enough.
He reached out to open the set of double doors when a group of men came barreling through laughing and yelling at each other.
He stepped back as he waited for them to pass shaking his head at the silly things they were saying.
“Hey, you!” a voice slurred behind him. Lucas didn’t know who he was talking to until the man seemed to make a conscious effort of talking, Spanish.
Lucas took a deep breath, a practiced smile in place. “Yes?”
“Yes?” he mimicked in that deep baritone most Spanish men seemed to have.
Lucas kept the smile in place. “Can I help you?”
“Help me? By what? Stealing my job?”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The man narrowed his eyes into slits as he stumbled forward and pointed a finger accusingly at Lucas. Lucas gazed down at the man, who was very small compared to him. He had on a shirt that supported some baseball team Lucas knew nothing about, a pair of oversized jeans, and his hair carelessly stuck out at all ends. When he leaned in close to Lucas, he could smell the alcohol on his breath, and it wasn’t a pleasant smell, so he involuntarily took a step backwards.
“That’s right, cower in fear, Spaniard,” the man puffed out his chest and sneaked a glance at his friends at the back who hung behind awkwardly, unwilling to help him out, but riveted by the train wreck in front of them.
“I’m not afraid.”
The man glared at him. “Yes, you are. Who do you think you are anyway? Cristiano Ronaldo?”
The man’s friends snickered as Lucas rolled his eyes and laughed. “Cristiano Ronaldo is from Portugal not Spain.”
His friends laughed even harder at that, and the man began to grow red with anger and shame. “I knew that. I just wanted to be sure you knew.”
Lucas rolled his eyes. “Right, okay, Listen, why don’t you just go home, I’m sure you have a nice girlfriend or something waiting for you.”
The man began to jab Lucas. “Are you implying that I can’t take you on, or are you trying to hit on my girl? Because I can take you either way.”
Lucas held his hands up in surrender even though he was beginning to feel mildly irritated. “Look, man. I’m not doing either, okay? I just think you’ve had a bit too much to drink, and you’re looking for a punching bag, and while I do try to be a good Samaritan, that’s not what I feel like doing today.”
The man’s eyes blazed with a fury that was entirely directed at Lucas even though Lucas had done nothing but try to defuse the situation. “And now you’re saying I can’t hold my liquor,” he spat out with as much venom as he could muster which wasn’t much considering he was inebriated and kept stumbling around.
“That’s it. You’re going down,” he swung his left hand in what Lucas can only assume was meant to be a punch, but instead it ended falling short.
Lucas eyed him with mild annoyance. “I’m not going to fight you, man, so just let it go.”
The man began to advance forward again. “Aww, the Spaniard is a pussy. I’m a lover not a fighter,” he mocked as he swung another punch.
Lucas deflected, and he ended up punching the air again which only made him more agitated.
“Stop moving,” he yelled fur
iously as he kept trying to lunge at him. Lucas kept deflecting until he felt his patience wearing thin. He pressed his mouth into a thin line as he tried to keep his temper in check until the man distracted him and managed to clock him on the jaw.
Stunned, Lucas sat there unable to believe that this small man could punch with such vigor. The man was stunned too as he stared at his hand, and the place where it hit as if unable to believe that he was capable of doing that.
Suddenly the man looked less stunned and more crazy as a look of manic glee crossed his face, and his eyes shone with malice. He made to punch him again, but this time Lucas brought his hand up and intercepted him in one deft stroke. He held the man’s hand in his and gazed at it dispassionately.
He began to move it backwards, and the man grunted with effort as he tried to release his hand, but he was clearly no match for Lucas’s strength.
“Walk away,” Lucas said with a deadly calm that sent a shiver running down the man’s spine. The man looked visibly afraid as he swallowed audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down eagerly.
Lucas released his arm, and the man began to rub his tender hand before he jumped Lucas from the back. He tried to force his hands around Lucas’s neck in a deadlock, but Lucas although taken by surprise, was quickly able to throw him off.
The man landed with a thud on the ground, and he groaned as he rolled onto his side. “Bastard,” he muttered as he threw his weight forward. He swayed on his feet and leaned over and spat out blood.
He gave Lucas a smile that was full of blood, and Lucas felt a momentary sense of guilt for what he had done, but the man had it coming. He kept provoking him, and you can’t poke a bear without expecting to get bit.
Lucas studied his opponent carefully, wondering what the best course of action was. The man began to charge at him like an angry bull, and Lucas had a split second during which to make a decision. He raised his hand as if to shield himself from the attack, but in reality, he drew his hand back and punched the man squarely in the jaw.