Table of Contents
Dare’s WildBy Parker KincadeDedicationTo Carly Phillips.
DedicationTo Carly Phillips.
Acknowledgement
Books by Parker KincadeThe Martin Family SeriesOne Night Stand
Chapter One“There
Chapter TwoShe
Chapter ThreeNo
Chapter FourStanding
Chapter Five“What
Chapter SixTanner
Chapter SevenShe
Chapter Eight“Tanner.”
Chapter NineTanner’s
Chapter TenAbby
Note From Parker
About Parker KincadeUSA Today
Books by Parker KincadeThe Martin Family SeriesOne Night Stand
More from the Dare to Love KindleWorldDreaming Up A Dare
Do You Dare
Daring to Win
A Dare Without Regret
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 CP Publishing. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Dare To Love Series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of CP Publishing, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
Dare’s Wild
By Parker Kincade
Dedication
To Carly Phillips.
Thank you for sharing your world with me!
And to Tanner.
Second chances can be messy. Thank you for wanting to earn yours, and for not letting me take the easy way out.
Acknowledgement
As always, it takes a village to bring a book to market.
Thank you to Deni Golden for beta reading this story as I wrote it, and for not kicking my ass when it took me longer than usual to send you chapters.
Thanks to Lacey Thacker for being an awesome editor.
Thanks to JTLW Design for the cover design.
Find Parker on the web:
Parker’s Website: www.parkerkincade.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ParkerKincade/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/parkerkincade
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/parkerkincade/
Email: [email protected]
Books by Parker Kincade
The Martin Family Series
One Night Stand
Shadow of Sin
Ties That Burn (Coming Fall 2016)
Game On Series
Spring Training
Southern Heat
Shadow Maverick Ranch Series
White Collar Cowboy
Borrowed Cowboy
Cowboy Redeemed
White Collar Wedding (short story)
Short Stories
Devlin
Two of Cups (Love in the Cards Anthology)
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Chapter One
“There are thirty-two teams in the league. Thirty-one of them passed. You do the math.”
Tanner Wild seethed from his end of the conference table. Thirty-one? Really?
Bunch of fucking idiots, all of them. He was the best tight end in the game. He trained harder, worked harder, than the majority of the guys playing today. The numbers he put up every time he hit the field should speak for themselves. Not to mention he’d never been injured. Never missed a fucking game.
Who the hell cared what he did during his down time?
The thirty-one team owners and coaches who don’t want anything to do with you, dumbass.
Tanner glanced to his left where Bruce Wheeler—his soon-to-be-former-agent-if-this-meeting-didn’t-improve-asap—sat.
Bruce dipped his head, causing his chin to double around a perfectly manicured beard.
Perfect. The lack of eye contact from the only man in the room paid to be on his side didn’t bode well.
Tanner refocused his attention on the man sitting regally at the other end of the table—Ian Dare, President of the Miami Thunder and the sole reason Tanner was back in Florida.
“All except you,” Tanner said, not one for mincing words. “Why?”
“You’re at the top of your game.” There was a warning behind the smile Ian wore, but Tanner was too wound up to heed it.
“Apparently that didn’t matter to anyone else.” Which stung, frankly. At twenty-eight, he was in the best shape of his life, regardless of how the media painted him.
“I’m not anyone else.” Ian arched a cocky brow. “I’m the onlyone else. Let’s sum this up, shall we? It seems Los Angeles has tired of its resident party animal. While there is little dispute as to your talent on the field, your extracurricular activities have become somewhat legendary, causing the LA franchise to be put under a media microscope.”
Yeah, and with the team’s domestic abuse and drug-related problems the higher-up’s were trying to bury, it’s no surprise they wouldn’t want any extra attention. Hence his trip across the country.
“I worked my ass off in LA. I’ll work my ass off for you. So I like to blow off some steam.” Tanner shrugged. “There’s no crime in that. I’ve never hurt anyone and I’ll pass any random drug test you wanna throw my way. What I do in my private time is my business.”
Ian’s expression clearly showed his disagreement with that statement, and damn it all, the guy wouldn’t be wrong.
Like it or not, Tanner had a responsibility to the fans he’d failed to live up to. He knew it. Didn’t mean he had to like it. He certainly wasn’t proud of it.
“Be that as it may, if you want to play for Miami there will be stipulations.”
Tanner gave his agent the side-eye. Motherfucker could’ve at least warned him of whatever catch was about to be lobbed his way.
He sighed inwardly, careful not to appear bored or disrespectful, but contrite. What choice did he have? He wasn’t ready to retire, mentally or financially. He hadn’t given much thought to the future, but now … now it was all he could fucking think about. All of the mistakes he’d made. The time he’d wasted.
Ian was offering him the chance to do something different. Better. Not just on the field, because come on—he rocked that shit. But, this was a chance to do something with his life. A rare opportunity to start over. And how fitting to finish out his career where it all began?
“I’m listening.”
Ian flattened a folder against the table and sailed it his way. “The conditions of your contract. Bruce also has a copy.”
Of course he does.
“The Miami Thunder franchise maintains a highly-respected reputation and a low tolerance for internal bullshit. Until you can prove yourself an asset on and off the field, there will be no bar hopping and absolutely no whoring. I understand the Miami nightlife can be a serious temptation for a single guy like you, but you will not partake. Which leads me to the next stipulation. No drinking.” Ian gave him the stink eye. “And when I say no drinking, I mean zero alcohol consumption. Not in public. Not at home. Not one drop.” Queue a dramatic pause, then, “Obviously, keeping your name out of the media is impossible. Make damn sure the most exciting thing they have to print about you is what you ate for breakfast. Am I making myself clear, Wild?”
“Yes, sir.” Because what else could he say?
“One last thing.” Ian tilted his head toward the mystery man sitting to his right. “This is Mitch Hardy. Your ne
w best friend.”
Tanner shifted in his seat.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
He would tolerate turning into an on-the-wagon football-playing hermit, but seriously? “A chaperone? You’re assigning a babysitter?”
That got his blood pressure soaring. Jesus. He might be an asshole, but when he gave his word he damn well kept it.
Bruce’s hand landed on his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. A warning to keep his shit together or tank his career.
Ian rolled his chair back and stood. “Allow me to remind you that we are your only option. The last stop on the broken down train you’ve been humping, so to speak. You’ve got two choices. You can walk out of here and leave the game behind, or you can sign the damn contract and keep playing football.” Ian slammed a pen down in front of him. “Choose wisely.”
As Ian retreated, Bruce slid the contract in front of him. “As we’ve discussed, it’s a good offer,” his agent said in hushed tones. “The stipulations are added as an addendum.”
“I’m not agreeing to an open-ended arrangement.” If he had to have Mitch in his back pocket, he wanted an end date.
“I anticipated that. Ian has agreed to a term of no longer than one-year for the stipulations, provided you maintain your end of the bargain.”
One year. 365 days. The majority of which would be occupied with training, practicing, traveling, and playing football. Not ideal, but he could handle it.
“Done.” Tanner scrawled his name on the appropriate lines.
“There’s one more thing,” Ian said as Tanner finished committing himself to Miami.
“Well, I know it’s not my first born, since I’ve just signed away any opportunity to meet the mother,” Tanner half-joked.
Ian laughed. “Nothing as dire as all that. I understand you’re staying in a hotel in South Beach.”
“Temporarily.” Tanner smiled at Mitch. “Hope you won’t mind sleeping on a rollaway for the near future. The suite is a one-bedroom.”
“Can’t wait,” Mitch deadpanned.
“Yes, well, I think it would be in everyone’s best interest for you to concentrate on finding a … less tempting area to live. Riley, my beautiful wife, called a friend of hers. He’s a local real estate broker. Riley set up an appointment for you to meet with him tomorrow. Buy, rent, or lease, this guy can help you. I’ll text you the information.”
“No offense, Ian, but I’m capable of attending to my own living arrangements.” And he’d had enough handling for one day.
“My wife went out of her way to set up the appointment.”
Translation: Meet with the damn real estate guy.
Right. “Please pass along my thanks to Riley. I appreciate the help.”
They all stood. If Tanner hadn’t just signed away his right to drink, he’d be on his way to the bottom of a bottle of scotch by the time he got back to the hotel. As it was, he slapped a smile on his mug and waited for his agent and Ian to exchange pleasantries.
Once again, Ian turned to him. An easy smile softened his features. “We really are proud to have you on board.” He clapped a hand over Tanner’s shoulder and squeezed. “Welcome home.”
Abby Nash finger-combed her hair and dabbed a clear coat of gloss on her red-stained lips. She tucked a piece of her long, straightened hair behind her ear and called it good. No amount of fussing would change her circumstances. It would only serve to make her late.
And that was something she refused to be.
She’d go out the same way she came in. On time and full of fire.
The fall-apart could come later. After a warm bath and bottle of Jack had softened the blow.
If only she drank.
Leaving the office restroom, Abby walked on shaky legs toward the large corner office in the back.
The lunch hour at Lindsey and Associates meant the office was quiet save for the occasional beep of the phone as its caller was automatically transferred to the office voicemail. Fresh flowers bunched in large, beautiful displays adorned every available surface. They provided a pleasant scent, but in her opinion caused the place to look more like a funeral home than a busy real estate office.
Maybe funeral home was apropos of the day. Having been called in to meet with the boss during a time the office would be empty sure felt dire. Similar to the state of her sales numbers.
As the prices of homes in south Florida skyrocketed, it became harder and harder to find affordable real estate for middle-class incomers—Abby’s primary client base. Employers weren’t keeping up with the cost-of-living increases for the area, making it all but impossible for anyone making less than half a mil a year to purchase a home in a desirable area.
Commissions were down, which meant the bills were piling up at a rate that kept her awake at night. If the market didn’t pick up soon, Abby would have to relocate.
Although in another three minutes, the decision could very well be taken out of her hands.
She drew in a floral-filled breath and knocked on the closed door.
“Come in,” a cultured, masculine voice instructed.
Abby eased the door open. “Mr. Lindsey?” Her throat closed up. Please, God. Don’t let her cry.
It’s just a job. You’ll find another one.
Sure she would. In fact, she had a job waiting for her in Arizona. If she wanted to go to work for her parents, which she did not, thank you very much. How could she sell homes in a place she hadn’t lived her whole life, in a place she didn’t know like the back of her hand?? That was one of the reasons her clients wanted to work with her. No one at Lindsey and Associates knew Miami and the surrounding areas like she did.
“Abigail. Thank you for swinging by. Come in. Sit. I hope I’m not keeping you from prior lunch plans.”
James Lindsey sat behind a large mahogany desk, looking dignified in his shiny black suit and royal blue tie. His dark hair was peppered with gray at the temples, giving him a well-seasoned appearance.
He was a handsome man, for someone old enough to be her father. He was also a shrewd businessman, having started the agency thirty years ago with nothing but “a hundred dollars and a dream,” as he liked to say. Now, Lindsey and Associates was considered the premier agency in the area.
Mr. Lindsey had taught her everything she knew about the real estate business in the eight years since she’d acquired her license. She would miss working for him.
“You aren’t,” she assured him. She slid onto the edge of the chair in front of the desk and squeezed her knees together, sitting straight and proud. Whatever came next, she could handle it. “I drove out to the new development in Plantation this morning.”
“How does it look?” He scribbled something inside the file in front of him.
“They’ve had some issues with the recent storms, but appear to be on track. The lots are small, but affordable, which you know is desperately needed these days. I ran into the developer on my way out. He indicated you could begin to list the lots within the month.”
Mr. Lindsey closed the file and sat back, finally giving her his undivided attention. “Indeed. That is encouraging news.”
Oh god. She was going to throw up.
“Abigail, are you okay? You look a little pale. You’re not coming down with something, are you?”
Was unemployementitis a thing?
“Of course your health is of the utmost importance, but the timing couldn’t be worse when I need your help.”
Wait. Her help? “You aren’t going to fire me?” she choked out.
Mr. Lindsey recoiled. “Fire you? Heaven’s no. Why would I do that?”
“My sales numbers haven’t been up to snuff lately. I thought—”
Mr. Lindsey cut her off. “Let’s not waste time discussing irrelevancies when I have exciting news for you.”
“You do?” Her brain struggled to keep up with the change in program. She wasn’t being fired. Relief loosened her airway and she could breathe again. “What n
ews?”
“Do you know Riley Dare?”
“Not personally, no. But everyone in Miami knows of the Dare family. She’s Ian Dare’s wife, right?”
Abby’s heart kicked against her ribs. The Dare family was legendary in these parts, but she went out of her way to avoid anything related to football. Too many bitter memoriesnot of the game, but of a certain player who currently played for a team on the other end of the country. Not that she kept tabs on the man responsible for her first and only broken heart. Not at all.
“Indeed, she is. Sweet girl. She has asked me to help one of their new players with his real estate needs. Unfortunately, my schedule will not allow the time commitment this man will need over the next few weeks, since there seems to be some urgency to get him settled.” He handed her a folder. “I’d like you to take care of him. I’ve taken the liberty of setting up the first appointment at the waterfront in Coconut Grove.”
“The five-bedroom?” She could live for several years on the commission from that property.
“That’s the one. It’s a great home, and it will give you a starting place for learning his tastes and desires. You’ll find preliminary information in the file, but Mr. Wild will need to fill in the blanks on his actual requirements for a home when you meet with him.
Mr. Wild.
Oh no. No, no, no. Not him. She didn’t want anything to do with his tastes or desires.
“Mr. Wild?” she asked. “As in Tanner Wild?” The-man-who-had-taken-her-virginity-and-broken-her-heart Tanner Wild?
Mr. Lindsey’s chin tucked in surprise. “Why, yes. Do you know him?”
“I … I …” Abby cleared the Tanner-sized lump in her throat. “I might not be the best person to handle this account.” Mainly because she hated the bastard.
And the nausea came back full force at the thought of giving up the kind of commission that could change her life.
Dare To Love Series: Dare's Wild (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 1