Game For Love: All The Right Moves (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Marquita Valentine

  Text copyright ©2014 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 Nyree Belleville, Oak Press, LLC. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements of Game For Love remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Nyree Belleville, Oak Press, LLC, or their affiliates or licensors.

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

  ALL THE RIGHT MOVES

  Marquita Valentine

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  More Books by Marquita Valentine

  Acknowledgements

  Ryan Turner has all the right moves but Ashley Mitchell refuses to be played...

  After being dumped on her wedding day by her football playing ex, Ashley Mitchell has sworn off dating athletes. She refuses to come in second to a pigskin ever again. Until she meets Ryan Turner, the sexy tight end of the Atlanta Avengers, during puppy-parenting class.

  Ryan Turner takes one look at Ashley and he’s hooked. But for the first time since becoming a sports hero, Ryan fumbles the ball. Ashley wants nothing to do with him, but he can’t stay away.

  When Ryan makes her an offer she can’t refuse, Ashley finds herself charmed by the real man beneath the uniform. But, Ryan only has two dates to convince her he’s ready to play for keeps.

  Chapter One

  Ryan Turner, notorious tight end of the Atlanta Avengers, was in love with a woman who wouldn’t give him the time of day.

  Okay, so he wasn’t in love, and she did, in fact, talk to him while they were at puppy-parenting classes.

  He glanced at the object of his inner grumblings, Ashley Mitchell, his puppy-parenting partner for the last two weeks. Her auburn hair shimmered under the lights. She smiled at the instructor as she listened to whatever the guy was saying, while stroking the head of her dog, a brown, white, and tan mutt named Bluebelle.

  His dog, Gunner, whined. The rescued pit bull was seriously in love with Ashley. Or her dog. Possibly both.

  “Yeah, wish that were me, too, buddy,” Ryan whispered.

  But, that was all they did—talk about dogs. They never talked about anything beyond that. She acted like she didn’t know who he was, or what he did for a living, which had suited him just fine. Honestly, that was what he’d liked about the entire class. Out of the five people in it, exactly two knew who he was—including their instructor, Jeff. For whatever reason, they’d kept quiet, and he appreciated it.

  Sometimes, it was a hassle to be loved and hated in a city like Atlanta, but it went with the territory. Besides, could he really complain about attention when he made what he did each year?

  Except, he wanted to complain about the lack of attention he was getting from her. Yeah, it was stupid and childish. But damn it, he was Ryan Turner.

  He grimaced at his own mental asshattery.

  “Ryan,” Ashley called out, and he sliced his gaze to her. “Bring Gunner over here and let’s work on his reactions to Bluebelle one last time. Jeff said it would be a great way to end class.”

  The pit bull trotted over to the woman, practically preening as he went. Damned dog loved the attention from her. Hell, Ryan loved the attention from her, and he wasn’t the one who got scratched behind the ears.

  He really needed to stop with the dog analogies.

  A rat terrier growled at Gunner, and Ryan tightened his grip on the leash.

  “Don’t do it, buddy,” he said in a low voice. “You’d break him in half before you finished biting down.”

  Thankfully, Gunner listened and ignored the rat and his owner, a local florist with more plants than common sense. “Let’s be friends,” the elderly man chortled. “No need for violence.”

  Seriously.

  Bluebelle happily approached Gunner, and then licked his ear, like she always did. Gunner back away slightly, and then did exactly what he was supposed to—he looked up at Ryan and sat down.

  Ryan reached down to pet Gunner on the head, and then gave him a treat. “Proud of you, G-Dog.”

  “Good job, Gunner,” Ashley cooed, chiming in. “Bluebelle is proud of you, too!” She scratched him behind the ears, and his stump of a tail wagged like crazy. Then she lifted her face to Ryan’s, her pretty blue eyes shining. “I can tell you’ve really been working with him. Awesome job!”

  If Ryan had a tail, he knew it would be wagging right then. “Thanks.”

  She kept smiling at him, the sexiest dimples he’d ever seen playing peekaboo in each cheek. Yeah, he was a goner for those. “I don’t think you two will need another round of classes.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, panic setting in. He had to make his move. “Yeah. But uh, maybe you and I could have some private lessons together?”

  Oh shit, I did not just say that.

  “You have a problem with playing well with others?” she asked.

  He couldn’t tell if she was teasing or doing that ‘back off, dude, you’re being creepy’ question. Not that he’d ever gotten one of those. Or at least, he didn’t remember getting one.

  Most women liked to be in his company, even before the fortune and fame. He was charming, they said. He knew how to sweet talk, dirty talk, and charm his way into hearts and bedrooms.

  Or at least, he’d thought so.

  Gunner tugged on his leash. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “It wasn’t?”

  Cocking his head to one side, he studied her. “Look, if I’ve overstepped my—”

  Ashley forestalled his attempt to apologize and save face by holding up a hand. “Ryan, you seem like a super nice guy, but I don’t date fo—uh… fellow classmates.”

  Super nice guy? Didn’t date fellow classmates? If that wasn’t the kiss of death… “After tonight, I won’t be your fellow classmate,” he pointed out, determined to play this conversation out to the end.

  “After tonight, you won’t see me again.”

  He crossed his arms, warming up to their banter. “Suppose I do see you again… Does that mean I can ask you out?”

  “If you see me again, then go for it.” She patted Gunner on the head, and the dog licked her hand. “Keep working with Gunner. He’s such a sweet boy.”

  “Thanks for being my partner,” he said before she walked away to gather her things.

  “You’re welcome,” she called out, waving goodbye to the rest of the class. “Thanks for your expertise, Jeff.”

  The rest of the class echoed her sentiments, including him.

  Ryan knew when to be a gracious loser. He also knew that patience paid off in the end. All he had to do was make sure he ran into her somehow, and then he could ask her out. She hadn’t said no. She’d just given him the rules. He could live with that.

  As long as he knew the rules, then he could play whatever game she threw at him.

  Ashley couldn’t get Bluebelle to the parking lot fast enough. Although she had thought her super nice guy comment would have deterred Ryan, it hadn’t. It was almost like she’d issued a challenge. Well, maybe that wasn’t the challenge she had issued, but seeing her again was.

  Opening the
back of her SUV, she helped Bluebelle inside and closed the gate. Then, she jumped in, threw her purse into the passenger seat, and started up the engine, before putting it into drive.

  Not until she made a right onto I-20, did she let out a sigh of relief. Traffic wasn’t too crazy, since it was almost suppertime on a Sunday. She thought about her conversation with Ryan.

  She passed a billboard with his image on it. He looked sexy, wearing his Atlanta Avengers uniform and a panty-melting smile. She could admit that much to herself, but he was also a football player. And she didn’t date them.

  Anymore.

  Okay, so it was one guy, The One, who had broken her heart and left her standing in complete shock at the church, thirty minutes before the ceremony was supposed to start. She ended up spending the first part of their honeymoon—sans the groom—drinking champagne and crying her eyes out on a plane as it flew to a destination couples’ resort. That had been so much fun.

  Not.

  But, that was two years ago, before her ex had been drafted to the Cowboys, during their last year of college. For her, the out-of-sight, out-of-mind thing helped. Dallas, Texas was a long ways from Atlanta—thank God. Because, if she had to look at his image on her way to work every day, she’d probably get arrested for destruction of private property.

  Sure, it wasn’t fair to paint Ryan with the same brush as her ex, but Dean had really hurt her.

  No, he hadn’t cheated on her, or even put his hands on her in anger. He’d been honest and admitted that he wasn’t ready to settle down. That he wasn’t ready for a wife and kids. All he wanted to do was concentrate on his career.

  He’d insisted she wasn’t ready for that kind of life. She wanted supper together every night, and Sunday-after-church dinners with her family. She wanted the picket fence, the dog, and local beach vacations. While he wanted a high-rise apartment, no pets, and to travel all over the world when the season was over.

  Funny thing was, she never remembered saying or wanting half that stuff. Kids, eventually. A dog, of course. But the other… she’d been ready to follow him anywhere. She’d been ready to relocate her successful prosthesis accessory business to Dallas and start over again.

  Bluebelle made a huffing sound, and Ashley glanced into the rearview mirror. “Almost home, sweetie,” she said.

  The rescued lab/boxer/indeterminable origin hated to ride, but she put up with the trip. Ashley liked to think it was because she had a crush on Gunner.

  If it weren’t for the fact that Ryan was a football player, she’d be all over him. Literally. The abs highlighted on that billboard were lickable. His shoulders were broad, and he had those indentions… the ones she personally liked to spend time paying lots of attention to when she’d been with Dean.

  She sighed.

  Or, she had liked to spend time doing that. The problem with having dated an athlete was that all men who weren’t one paled in comparison. So, for two years, she’d been in a drought. A really, really, bad drought.

  Which had to be the only reason Ryan Turner seemed like such good dating material. Well, not the only reason.

  Her exit appeared. She crossed two lanes of traffic to take it, and then made a right onto Roswell.

  Ryan was genuinely nice, loved his dog, and was fun to be around. For two weeks, he’d kept the class in stiches, yet when it was time for them to partner up and train together, he’d been serious. And he’d listened to their instructor. He hadn’t asked for special favor, or any favors at all. In fact, he didn’t tell people who he was, though everyone would have to be blind not to recognize his sexy face.

  Everyone drove on the I-20. It was the only way to get around Atlanta. So, they had to see the billboard.

  Not that any of those things mattered because she would never see him again. They didn’t have the same group of friends, or even frequent the same places. While she was more than comfortable, she wasn’t a celebrity.

  Ashley pressed the button to open the garage door, and then drove her SUV inside. Cutting the engine, she got out and let Bluebelle follow her.

  “Good job, baby,” she murmured, handing her a treat from her pocket.

  Even if she did see him again, which was next to impossible, there was no way she’d say yes, or that he would ask her out again. He was a football player, and his reputation, no matter how nice and genuine he seemed at class, was that he loved the ladies and they loved him. He ran in fast circles and traveled to places she could only dream of going one day.

  Ryan Turner lived the life her ex always dreamt of having, and he didn’t seem inclined to settle down any time soon. Not that he had to, but she was ready to start seriously dating again. She was ready to put aside her dream guy for a real guy. A steady guy, who might not have lickable abs and indentions that made her lose her mind.

  But he would be a guy who stayed. With her.

  Chapter Two

  Ryan jumped the fire pit at the end of the mud run and almost fell to his knees in gratitude. He’d just completed fifteen grueling miles of the most physically exhausting obstacle course he’d ever competed in.

  He was covered in sweat and mud. His knees and elbows had gashes and cuts all over them. His thighs were screaming from all the burpees he had to do during the run.

  But he had finished. And now, he was starving.

  A smiling woman handed him a banana and a beer. “Congrats!”

  “Thanks,” he said, careful not to spill his beer as he peeled the fruit.

  Beside him, Cole Taylor—infamous linebacker for the San Francisco Outlaws—downed his own beer. “This will be awesome, they said. You’re in great physical shape, they said.” Cole leveled Ryan with a look. “They. Are. Liars.”

  Ryan barked out a laugh. “It wasn’t that bad.” His buddy’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. It was worse.”

  The two of them watched as a group of men, fully dressed in military gear, including rucksacks on their backs and gas masks on their faces, carrying a stretcher with a dummy on it, ran passed them.

  Yeah, they needed to shut the hell up.

  “Beasts,” Ryan called out, toasting them before throwing back his beer. Turning back to Cole, who had just finished off his, he said, “Still want to complain?”

  Cole shook his head and tossed his trash in the large garbage bin. “Hell, no. Let’s hit the showers.”

  The showers consisted of a roped-off area full of pipes and hoses that the participants used to spray off the mud, sweat, and blood. There was no privacy, and since this was a family-friendly event, they could only strip down to their boxer briefs.

  “How’s Anna?” Ryan asked, gingerly rubbing his elbow to break up the dirt that had coated it. Man, that was going to look nasty tomorrow.

  Cole grinned, his eyes lighting up like they always did when someone mentioned his wife’s name. “Good. After you drop me off at the hotel where she’s waiting for me, I’ll be doing even better.”

  “Must be nice,” Ryan commented.

  “No one waiting for you?”

  Ryan thought of Ashley, of her fiery hair and hot body. If he’d succeeded in asking her out a couple of weeks ago, then maybe she’d be the one waiting for him at his house. “Gunner’s waiting, but his massage skills are pretty much nonexistent.”

  Cole laughed, taking the water hose and holding it over his head. More than a few women in the showers with them stopped mid-wash. “Who is she?”

  Jesus, when did he become so easy to read? “No one.” He turned off the water, stepping to the side to let another man pass, and then made his way out. Cole followed him.

  “You’re so full of shit, Turner,” his buddy called out, as they got to Ryan’s truck. “You got your fake-out face on.”

  “I do not.” He reached inside the bed and fished out two towels, throwing one at Cole’s face.

  With a bark of laughter, Cole caught the towel easily, drying off while Ryan did the same. “Please. I taught you that face.”

  Ryan unlocked his truck and climb
ed inside, Cole joining him. “You didn’t teach me shit.”

  Cole’s brows rose. “I remember you being the rookie upstart for The Outlaws. I also remember you puking your guts out right before your first game.”

  Ryan grinned, started up his engine, and then pulled out of the makeshift parking lot. He followed the line of cars to the highway and hit the gas. “Those were the days. Nothing but the expectation to make the owners happy that they drafted me.”

  “Not much different from now,” Cole said, but they both knew better.

  Every year, the players got younger and faster, while every year, Ryan and Cole did the opposite. Only in sports was a man made to feel ancient at the ripe old age of twenty-eight. Though, he had to admit, there were times when a hit from a linebacker built like a tank made him feel more like ninety.

  Cole whistled. “Anna just texted me. The mud run raised over a 100k, and she ordered me two of everything on the room service menu.”

  With his and Cole’s promise to match whatever was raised, the veterans outreach program would make over 300K.

  “Nice. Makes my sore ass worth it.” Ryan slowed his truck down and turned into the hotel’s drive. He stopped right in front of the entrance, putting the engine in park.

  “Just your ass?”

  Before Ryan could reply, he got a glimpse of a familiar face. It was Ashley. His heart sped up and before he knew what he was doing, he was already out of the truck and striding up to her. He caught her before she went inside.

  “Ryan?” she gasped, her pretty blues widening.

  Oh yeah, not only remembered him, but she was happy to see—

  “Oh my gosh! Did you get attacked?”

  Wait. What? “No.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Then why does it look like you’ve gone two rounds with Holyfield?”

  “Because he went fifteen miles to raise money for Victorious Veterans,” his buddy said, punching Ryan in the shoulder. He let out a grunt, shooting Cole a you’re-so-going-to-pay-for-that look.