Hard Ball

by Heather Stone

  “Really?” I question, but know the answer. My hand feels great.

  “You’ve been doing better and you don’t seem to be in pain. It’s been four weeks. As long as you feel ready, I think it’s time. You’ll just have to continue with the compressions and rest in between.” I nod.

  “Let’s get through baseball and we’ll get married after the season ends.” She smiles.

  “I can’t wait to see you back on the mound.” I raise my brow.

  “That’s not an innuendo, pervert.” She teases. “Besides, I need to finish studying. I signed up to take my exam next month.”

  “That’s great. You feel ready?” I beam.

  “I do. I’ve been ready. I always second-guess myself.”

  “You’ll ace it. I have no doubt. You’re going to be an amazing physical therapist.” She leans up on her tiptoes and places a kiss on my lips.

  “We have so many wonderful things to look forward to.”

  The smile on my face is wide and goofy. This girl makes me happier than anything. As much as I love playing ball, I would give it up in a heartbeat for her. For our family. She’s my past, my present and my future. Life is good.

  Epilogue - Makenzie three years later

  The warm sun and the cool breeze wash over me, bringing a sense of peace. I watch as Cole and Wade, our son, play in the water. Wade’s blond curls catch the sun, causing a sparkle of light to cascade off of him. Lifting my gaze to the sky, I think of Cole’s father. He’s looking down on us all with love and pride.

  We lost him shortly after the birth of our son. We honored him by naming Wade after him. It was a tough day and we mourn his loss still. Cole’s mother keeps busy by hanging out with my mother. It drives my dad crazy, but secretly I think he likes having more time to fish and tinker in his garage.

  Cole has been playing in the major leagues for the past few years. He still has issues every now and then but with my help we’re able to get him back on the mound quickly. Spring training starts soon so we’ve decided to take a quick vacation back to Hawaii before it begins. It’s where we started our journey together as husband and wife. It’s become a second home.

  I took my exam and passed it with flying colors. I am officially Makenzie Callahan, DPT. Although, I haven’t gotten very much use out of it. My job consists of taking care of Cole and our son. I never thought I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, until I saw Wade. Now I can’t imagine not having this opportunity.

  Our life is blessed and I couldn't be happier. The day I admitted that Cole Callahan was my forever was just the beginning. My love for him grows daily through his interactions with our son and in the private moments we share.

  Scooping Wade up in his arms, he comes running toward me. Plopping our son down next to me, he brings his hand to my swelling belly.

  “Boy or girl? Wade, do you want a little brother or little sister?”

  “Needer,” our son slurs, his little nose wrinkling in disgust.

  It's going to be a big adjustment for him. He's so spoiled with all the love we can give him. I look up into my husband's eyes.

  “Either way is fine by me.” Cole narrows his eyes.

  “Woman, don't lie. I saw you eyeing the little pink tutu in the store yesterday.”

  I chuckle. “Doesn't hurt to dream,” I say, absently rubbing my belly. Cole leans down, placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

  “I hope she looks like you. I would get nothing done. I could stare at the two of you all day.” I smile at him.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you more, Kenz-dog.”

  I shake my head. Typical of Cole to revert to middle school. Knowing that this life will be nothing but interesting brings the sense of joy and comfort I’ve felt since the day he admitted he loved me.

  “Even if you don’t get your girl this time around, we can always practice for next time.” He waggles his eyebrows.

  “I bet you’d like that.” My eyes roll. “Why don’t we start right here, right now?”

  “Don’t play, woman. You don’t want the beach to know what I’m packing under these shorts.” I laugh.

  “You’re mine. What do I care.”

  “Oh, you mind. That’s why you patrol the locker rooms after every game.”

  “The jersey-chasers hang around, waiting to jump you,” I say. The thought of those women touching him raises my blood pressure. He laughs.

  “See. You care.” He leans down once more, kissing me intensely for the entire beach to see, before scooping up Wade once more and running back to the water.

  Watching my men laugh and play brings me a happiness I never knew existed. This life is full of promise for us and I cannot wait to enjoy every moment.

  The End

  About the Author

  Daydreamer by day professional child wrangler by night. Bred in the Midwest, I often would conjure up stories in my head to fill my day. When I'm not concocting a delicious new tale, I can be found curled up in a corner with a cup of coffee and the newest page turner.

  authorheatherstone

  Also by Heather Stone

  Plunge: The Plunge Crew

  Obedient: The Plunge Crew

  Plow: Brighten Sisters Duet

  Peep: Brighten Sisters Duet

  Last Line: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

  Claim Me, Baby

  BONUS BOOK: LAST LINE

  Heather Stone

  Prologue

  One more line. Just one more.

  I need something to dull the pain. Erase the memories from existence.

  Erase him.

  I feel worthless. He made me feel this way.

  Slowly, it all begins to fade. I’m free falling into the abyss of solitude. Here, in this space, nothing and nobody can hurt me. I’m untouchable.

  As I take my final breath, all is as it should be. In these last painless seconds, my brain conjures up one image—the face that haunts me even at death’s door. I see him right before everything goes black.

  It’s true what they say: life’s a bitch.

  But they don’t tell you that death’s a bitch, too.

  Bailey

  Two Months Earlier

  Club L.E.X.

  I’m finally here.

  It isn’t much to look at from the outside of the building, just a typical New York warehouse, but the concrete slabs with no windows just serve to make it completely frightening. It’s dark and utterly ominous on the outside, but it’s the inside that’s home to the proverbial monsters in my closet. The depths of this carnivorous building hold a whole different world of problems for me. Problems that I’ve promised myself will stay buried in the past.

  After weeks of looking for a job and failing, I’m finally here. Thank God too, as I had just received my third eviction notice. I had begun to wonder if I would have to abandon my dreams of living in the city, but my sister Leah came through yet again. Little did she know she chose the wrong place to find me employment. Leah had no idea of my addiction. Over the years, I’d made sure to keep her ignorant of the fact, so when she approached me about a job as a bartender, there was no way I couldn’t accept it. If I wanted any chance of getting out of debt and staying in New York, this was it.

  I was out of options.

  Leah and I couldn’t be more different. She’s blonde and fair skinned like our mother, and I’m dark and brooding like our father. The comparison of light versus dark or good versus evil comes to mind. It describes us to a tee. While she is the family prize, I’m the black sheep. Trouble follows me. It’s my shadow. I’m basically a cosmic tragedy. But that was before. I’m clean and sober now.

  Two years.

  One thousand and fifty-one minutes.

  This time will be different. It has to be.

  Leah has always believed in me, much to my dismay. She’s stuck her neck out for me so many times, always bailing me out, and I won’t let her regret that decision. I’ve always hung out with a questionable crowd, which Leah never understood.
I tend to want to befriend the worst type of people. I was cornered after high school by Leah and her then boyfriend. They offered me money to move out of my small-ish town and to the city for a fresh start. I knew Cal only offered because Leah wanted it so badly. He was an arrogant ass with too much money. I jumped at the chance for a clean start, but it only ended in spiraling me further out of control. Now I find myself about to be homeless, without a degree and completely out of options.

  Running a hand through my brown locks, I decide it’s time to move. I breathe in deeply, counting slowly to ten and allowing each breath I inhale to calm my fragile nerves. With tentative steps, I make my way inside. To think that, in a few short minutes, this barren building will become my lifeline—or my demise.

  I stop in my tracks and shake my head. I can’t think that way. If I get myself keyed up before I make it in the door, I’m done for. I shake it all off literally and figuratively. If anyone is watching me, they’ll think I’m tripping. One more deep breath and I begin to walk again.

  With all my strength, I push open the heavy metal door. It screeches across the floor as I walk over the threshold. My eyes dart around the room and goose bumps break out on my skin. The familiarity is unnerving. I already feel myself immediately falling back on old habits as I locate the typical spots: the bathrooms, storage closets, and the private secluded nooks tucked away from the unobservant onlooker. The perfect spots to get a fix. I’m waiting for the itch to begin. That need to feed the beast within. It doesn’t come and for that I’m relieved. There’s no place for that in my new life.

  I walk into the room filled with decadence and sin, clinging to the hope that I’m stronger than this. There’s no temptation great enough for me to break this clean streak. Putting food on my plate and making rent is quite the motivation to stay on the straight and narrow.

  My ears begin to ring as my feet carry me closer to the bar. The bass is so loud it actually shakes the room, and I can barely hear myself think. It would be easy to lose myself to the oblivion of the pulse of the familiar terrain. This is why I haven’t stepped foot in a club since the night I took myself to my first NA meeting. This feeling that gnaws at the pit of my stomach as my eyes scan the room wanting a fix. I shouldn’t be here, but I have no choice.

  Club L.E.X. is a modernistic space—white and sterile. Along the outskirts of the room are faintly lit small alcoves for bottle service. White chiffon drapes hang from metal wires that allow the patrons to close out the chaos from the outside. I imagine in a former life pulling the drapes shut and participating in sinister acts behind the dim lights. It would be easy to lose myself in the confines of this illusion once again. My jaw tightens. No. Not going back there.

  Pushing back my memories, I continue my course to the bar. I walk up to the stainless steel monstrosity that takes up the whole wall, and the most beautiful man I have ever seen turns in my direction. He has short brown hair that looks kissed by the sun, and his blue eyes are piercing. His gaze is so intense that it causes me to flush from head to toe, and a perfect five o’clock shadow adds just a bit of ruggedness to his otherwise boyish features. This man can easily play the main character in my next fantasy. He’s sheer perfection.

  “What’s your poison?” Mr. Beautiful throws my way.

  “Actually, I’m here to see Mr. Lawson. I’m Bailey Jameson.”

  “Your name is Bailey Jameson?” He chuckles. “Did your parents have a drinking problem or something?” he says over his shoulder as he slings a keg into place.

  Oh my god, his arms are so toned and sexy. He raises his eyebrows signaling he’s waiting for me to speak.

  “Um, what?” Brilliant, Bae. Now he thinks you’re a moron.

  “You have two liquor names. Ya know, Bailey and Jameson?”

  “Oh, right. I’m pretty sure that was an unfortunate accident.” Grinning, I continue on my quest to locate my new boss. Please don’t let it be a hot bartender.

  “I’m supposed to be starting here tonight.”

  “Ah, yes. The fresh meat.” He smirks.

  Oh God, that smirk. My insides melt right then and there.

  “Unfortunately for you, Bailey, you’re stuck with me. Reed is meeting with someone in his office. I’m Damon Drake.”

  Damon Drake. His name is perfect . . . He’s perfect.

  “That’s okay.” Suddenly, I’m nervous at the prospect of being stuck with this guy. He leans forward across the bar, his muscles becoming more defined, and I gulp deeply as my cheeks turn crimson. His lips turn upward as he catches my perusal. Keep your head in the game.

  “You sure you want to work here? You look a little scared.” His grin deepens.

  My eyes widen. Shit. He’s hot, but no reason to make an ass out of yourself. “I’m fine. New jobs always make me a bit uneasy.”

  “Well, you got nothing to fear at L.E.X, Bailey. Everyone is real chill, plus the tips are killer. You can’t get better than this anywhere in New York.” He motions around the room to prove his point. “Why don’t you come back here and I’ll show you the ropes? What did Reed tell you about the job?”

  “Honestly nothing. I’ve never spoken to him.” I shrug.

  “So how did you wind up here with us?”

  “My sister called in a favor. I was about to get evicted from my apartment—”

  My hand clamps over my mouth. Damon lifts his head to me. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he wants to ask. He’s giving me time to spill, but I won’t. We stand here in silence until his eyes avert and he gives me the out I desperately want.

  “You don’t need to say more. I get it. So where were we?” He taps his chin with his pointer finger. “Oh yes, the ropes. Come on back. Don’t be scared. I won’t bite.” A small dimple forms in his right cheek, and it’s so cute that my whole body relaxes. It gives me the strength I need to overcome this first obstacle: remembering how I got here.

  I make my way inside the bar and peer up at him as he tells me the ins and outs. His tanned arm pointing toward the secluded banquettes lining the dance floor shows me the way to the VIP rooms I’ll be serving.

  “So, Bailey, what’s your story? You a struggling model too?”

  “Hardly. I assume you are?”

  “Model, actor, singer. Typical bartender story,” he says as he pours a shot of Patron Silver for a group of guys across the bar from us. “I can tell you’re going to do great. The men will love you.”

  He goes about pouring more shots for another group of people. The idea of “the men” loving me isn’t sitting well. The slut label is yet another ghost I’d like to keep buried. When drugs are a part of your life, promiscuity seems to come with the territory. At least it did for me. Guys are another distraction I don’t have time for.

  “If you start to need a pick-me-up, just let me know. I’ve got you covered,” he whispers in my ear conspiratorially. “You have to be real careful. The boss is a tight ass about it. He used to be cool, but now, not so much. We find our way around it, though.” Fuck, so not what I wanted to hear. “Thanks, but I’m good. I’ll stick to good ole Coca-Cola or Red Bull.”

  “Good for you. I respect that. Honestly, though, the only drug you need is a good look at Reed. That man is sex on a stick.” Wait, what did he just say?

  “When you say he’s sexy, do you mean girls find him sexy or…” I trail off, not knowing what to say. I don’t want to offend him.

  “You can say it, Bailey. I’m gay. Shocker, right? Aren’t all the good looking ones?” He winks.

  Damn. There goes my nightly entertainment.

  Reed

  My friends say I have a life most would kill for. I own my club, I have more money than I can spend in a lifetime, and I can get any girl I want. In fact, Valerie is here yet again, riding my cock as we speak.

  I never call her unless I want sex, and I always kick her out right afterward. There is no cuddling, no dinner, nothing. Yet, she still comes when I call.

  Yeah, I have the life.

  So
why am I sitting here reflecting on the many ways that I am the luckiest bastard alive? Shouldn’t I be in the moment? Shouldn’t I be lost in the oblivion that is this gorgeous redhead’s pussy, albeit loose? Bottom line, I’m not feeling this. I’m practically limp. She can’t be enjoying this either.

  Queue the contrived moan and that about does it.

  “Get off,” I say rather lazily. She stops moving but just stares at me. “I said. Get. Off.” I really shouldn’t be such a dick to this girl. She didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just not into it tonight. She’s a ten on any man’s scale: 5’10, long ass legs, and a nice tight ass. Yeah, I’ve tested her ass. The thought of sinking into her tight puckered hole has my dick coming back to life. She gives me a coy smile and runs her fingers down my chest.

  “Don’t stop. Please fuck me,” she says without a hint of shame.

  That’s all it takes and I’m officially back in the game. I grab her hips and flip her so her hands are on the couch and she’s bent over. With a quick slap to her right ass cheek, I slam back into her, pumping mercilessly in and out. When I get her nice and wet, I pull out and use her juices to lube her ass. I slip one finger in to ready her tight, puckered hole, then add a second finger, eliciting a moan. Primed and ready to go, I place the tip at the entrance and slowly work my way in. When I’m fully seated in her ass, I give her a second to adjust to my length before rocking in and out.

  “Fuck,” she cries. I slap her again, and her ass puts my cock in a choke hold. I groan at the intense pleasure.

  I can feel the bass of the system below pulsing at my feet. This was my life: the party, the music, the alcohol, the drugs. I grab her hair in my hands and pull, tilting her head back to devour her mouth. Her tongue collides with mine, and I swallow her moans. As the tempo from the club speeds up, I find the strength to match its beat. Just a little more, a little further in, and I’ll get there.