Balls: The Complete Players Collection (Sports Romance Box Set)

by Teagan Kade

  I paused, wondering exactly how truthful I could be without crossing a line. Even though he wasn’t in the NWHL, the executives of the two leagues were familiar with each other. I didn’t want to burn any bridges. “But the salary was a bit… rough. The paycheck wasn’t big enough for me to quit my coffee shop gig. So, in the end, the time constraints and stress got to me, I guess you could say. I was practically working two full-time jobs. Not to mention, no one takes the NWHL seriously, and the competition was sorely lacking.”

  “Yeah, that first signing right out of college tends to be difficult.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not talking about the first time I signed with the Panthers. This was the second, after I had already played for the Beauts out in Buffalo.”

  Bausch winced. “Brutal.”

  “Needless to say, I wasn’t too bummed about quitting. The worst part of the whole fiasco was calling my dad to tell him I was ending my hockey career until something better came along. After I got done telling him everything, he said just one sentence to me: ‘It’s a shame you weren’t born a boy, Raeann.’” I thought I had moved past it, but the weight of his words still sat heavily on my mind. It was like a dark cloud that stormed over my head — my own personal dose of melancholia.

  “My dad was a hard-ass too,” started Bausch. “He was a first generation German immigrant born during the Second World War. I’m the youngest of six. By the time I came around he was already sick of living.” He took a sip of his champagne. “He had no patience for me, and being a blue collar worker in the factories meant he didn’t have any time either. When my parents learned I was athletically gifted, he pushed me toward soccer: ‘It’s the world’s sport! Was läuft falsch bei dir? — What’s wrong with you?’” Bausch shrugged. “Sorry, Dad.”

  “Was he proud when you won the Stanley Cup… three times?”

  Scott shook his head. “No, he passed away the summer before that first season, but my mom was. She actually attended the game.” He exhaled, smiling to himself as he thought about the moment. “He did stop giving me shit when I got signed, though. I paid off their mortgage with my starting salary.”

  “That’s an awfully generous thing to do for someone who sounds like they made your life harder than necessary.”

  “I didn’t do it for him.” He shook his head. “I did it for my mother. She’s my rock. When I was seventeen I realized I was too obsessed with making my father proud, especially since nothing I ever did pleased him. His response was always something along the lines of: ‘Oh that’s nice, but what’s next?’ It was murdering my passion and excitement. My mom, on the other hand, went to all the practices and games that she could. Sometimes that meant dragging my other five siblings along with her.”

  “She sounds like a wonderful person.” It was exactly what I always wanted in a mother. My own had taken off when I was ten. I hadn’t seen her since.

  “She is.” He nodded before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry for dumping all my daddy issues on the table. You’re just easy to talk to, is all.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.” I waved the notion away. “I have plenty of my own, but if it weren’t for all those parental issues, I doubt I would have made it this far. The drive to prove to my father I can succeed in a male-dominated sport has carried me to places I’ve never dreamed possible. This moment is a great example of that.”

  Scott smiled. “Me too. Constantly being told I couldn’t make it made me work even harder. Even now I’m off the ice, I’m still in the industry trying to show my family what a fucking legend I intend to be.”

  I laughed. “Well, you certainly made a name for yourself while you were a winger.” Both on and off the ice, to borrow his phrase. “If you’re just as successful as a coach as you were a player, your name might be up there with Jaromir Jagr or Wayne Gretzky as one of the hockey’s greatest.”

  “That’s the plan,” he said casually, as though it weren’t a far off dream but an actual attainable goal. “Can I ask, what’s your end goal?”

  “Something kind of similar to yours, actually. I want to break the mold. There’s nothing in the rulebook that says women can’t play in the NHL, as I’m sure you know, but nobody hires us because they all believe women are weaker and less skilled. I want to show the world women can be just as good on the ice as men, physicality aside. No, we’ll never be these massive, hulking beasts in skates, but you don’t need to be huge to win a hockey game. You need to be smart.” I tapped my head. “All the hockey greats aren’t the biggest guys around, but the wisest.”

  Scott nodded. “I like that. I like where your head’s at. That mentality will take you far, Rae.” His eyes locked with mine and for a brief moment I thought I spotted admiration in his cerulean gaze. I soaked it in.

  A few seconds later, the waiter dropped the check at our table, we finished our meals, paid, and left. As we strode out of the restaurant, I couldn’t help but notice Scott’s hand on my lower back, guiding me along our way. His touch was light but firm. It didn’t leave me until we made it out to the sidewalk. A small part of me was sad when it fell away. I missed the warmth of his palm and the comfort it provided.

  I shook my head. What was wrong with me? My emotions were running away with my senses. This man was my coach, my boss, and by all accounts a disgusting womanizer, but I was fawning over him left and right like a horny cheerleader.

  “Is your car nearby?” he asked.

  “It’s parked over there.” I pointed to the curb in front of Micah’s office building. “Do you need a ride back to your hotel?”

  “No, thank you, but I appreciate the offer.”

  “When do you fly out?” I asked. I couldn’t help but notice that with each step I took, he came closer and closer. We had started with about a foot between us and were now practically rubbing elbows.

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “So soon?” The words rushed from my mouth.

  He shrugged. “They need me back in Seattle. I’ve got a team to manage, after all.”

  “Makes sense,” I said, pulling my car keys from my pocket. “I guess the next time we meet will be on the other side of the country.”

  “It shouldn’t be too long,” he said as we came to a stop beside my car. “The season starts soon, and we need you on the ice with the guys as soon as possible.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” My car beeped once as I unlocked it. “Thanks for dinner. I had a really great time.”

  “My pleasure.” He opened my car door for me. His gaze lowered from my eyes to my mouth. He wet his bottom lip. There was a moment’s hesitation before he took a step toward me.

  Fuck me sideways, he was coming in for a kiss.

  My chest swelled. I desperately wanted to feel his lips against mine.

  But at the very last moment he halted and took a step back. “Have a safe drive home, Miss Walsh.” His warm breath feathered my cheek he was so close.

  Heat flared through my body, butterflies erupting in the gulf of my stomach. My thighs tightened, pressing together.

  Scott took a step back, allowing me plenty of space to get into my car.

  “Thank you,” I squeezed out, sliding into the driver’s seat. I watched him turn and walk away. My hand gripped the steering wheel and my knuckles turned white. My heart was still beating a million times a second and showing no signs of slowing down any time soon.

  I shook my head. I was being ridiculous. This was Scott. Freakin’. Bausch. The man known for arriving at the club with girl A and leaving with girls B and C. He was wealthy and successful and could have any woman he wanted. Why did I even believe I had a shot? I’m the monogamous, small-town New England type. That’s not the kind of woman Scott Bausch dates. Not to mention, he’s my coach. This was my big opportunity. My slippery libido wasn’t about to screw it up.

  *

  I sauntered into my apartment exhausted. I had worked a ten-hour shift at the coffee shop, received the job offer of a lifetime, and went out
to dinner with one of the most captivating men I had ever met — who was very strictly off-limits, and wrong. Oh so very, very wrong.

  My phone buzzed as I collapsed on the couch. It was a text message from my dad. All it said was, Haven’t heard from you in a while. Hope everything is alright.

  I pressed the call button and raised the cell to my ear. He picked up after the second ring. “Raeann?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “It’s so nice to hear your voice. You sound like shit, by the way.”

  I nodded in agreement even though he couldn’t see me. “I’ve had a long day.”

  “That’s because you’re still working that god-awful job. I know you told me you don’t want me to bring it up any more, but I just want you to know, if you ever want… you can come work at the garage. I’ll pay to get your license.”

  I sighed. “Dad, I’m not going to work in the garage.” I did my best to keep the whine in my voice at bay. He’d been on me to become a mechanic since I was eleven.

  “Well, when you change your mind, the offer still stands.”

  “I won’t.”

  I hadn’t in nearly twelve years.

  “Anyway, I got a call from your ex-boyfriend. Greg, was it? He’s looking for you. Said he still has a box of your stuff he wants you to pick up.”

  “What?” I felt icky just thinking about it. “Dad, I haven’t dated Greg since I had short hair. Why has he hung onto my stuff for so long?”

  “I’m not sure, Raeann.”

  “And I know which box he’s referring to. I’m not getting it,” I said flatly.

  It was box full of all our old relationship mementos, the real tacky, sentimental stuff.

  “All right. I’ll let him know if he calls again,” Dad replied. “You have a good night, sweetheart.”

  “Wait! Dad?” I hoped he hadn’t hung up yet.

  “Yeah?”

  “I… I got an offer today.”

  “What?”

  “I got an offer today,” I repeated.

  “What do you mean? I thought you said you were done with the NWHL?”

  “Well, that’s the thing. It’s not with the NWHL. It’s with the NHL.” It felt damn good making that clarification.

  “The NHL?”

  “Yes. The NHL.” There was a long pause on the other line. So long I began to get worried my father had been sucked down the line. “Dad? You still there?”

  “Yeah.” His voice cracked. “I’m still here.” Was he crying? “I can’t believe it. Jesus, I’m so happy for you! This isn’t some kind of cruel prank you’re playing on your dear old dad, is it?

  “No prank, Dad, and thank you. I can’t believe it either.”

  “Oh, Raeann. This is just—” His voice broke again.

  “I know. The only downer is I’ll be playing for the Seattle Kraken. I’ll have to move to the west coast. Which means… I’m going to have to leave you, Father Dearest.”

  He chuckled. “No, baby. You’re not leaving me. You’re chasing your dreams. There’s a fine difference there if ever I knew one.” His voice was soft. “I’m proud of you.”

  And damn it I could feel actual, real tears pricking at my eyes.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SCOTT

  I folded my arms against my chest and leaned against the painted concrete blocks of the stadium. Here, in the tunnel beneath the bleachers, I was surrounded by shades of evergreen and indigo.

  Wanda pointed at my elbow. “I can see part of your tattoo.”

  I glanced down. There were only a couple of lines showing. “It doesn’t matter. It’s fine.” I shrugged.

  “It does matter, Scott.” There was a hint of exasperation in her voice. “You’re not a player any more. You’re a coach. You need to look professional, appropriate, and, most of all, successful.”

  I sighed. I didn’t have time for this. My new player was walking into this tunnel at any moment, and I needed to focus on my next move. I hadn’t told the guys yet. I’d been so taken with her I neglected to anticipate the team may not be as receptive to their new teammate as I was.

  Still, I couldn’t resist firing back at Wanda. “I’m almost thirty-five years old, Wanda. I don’t need somebody curating my attire.”

  She was getting under my skin, picking at me slowly like always.

  She rolled her eyes. “Stop acting like a child, Scott. I was simply trying to be helpful; a visible tattoo could cause image issues. I’m too good at PR to keep quiet about it.” She pulled out a pack of smokes from her purse and started smacking the bottom of it against her palm.

  “I thought you quit?”

  “I did.” Her bright red fingers flicked the top open. She pulled out a long white cylinder. Flakes of brown tobacco flared out from one end.

  The sneer in her voice grated against me. “Could you at least wait until later? You know, when I’m not trapped in a concrete tunnel with you? I don’t exactly appreciate secondhand smoke.”

  “Well, I don’t appreciate being discriminated against like this.”

  “Discriminated against?” I laughed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “If this were a beer, you wouldn’t say anything to me, would you? You’re discriminating against me because I’m a smoker. You’re harassing me for smoking.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Last I heard, smokers are not a protected class within the federal government.”

  She rolled her eyes at me and shoved the cigarette back into box, tossing the package into her purse. “Christ, happy now?”

  “Yes.”

  Wanda folded her arms across her chest. Her chin dipped down, allowing her to stare at the floor. “I don’t like it when we argue like this.”

  “Why not? It feels just like old times, doesn’t it? Isn’t that what you’re chasing after?”

  She released an exasperated huff. “No, Scott, it isn’t. I’m after our best times — the ones I remember fondly. Not the worst.”

  I averted my gaze, needing to look anywhere but at this woman-cum-she-devil. She destroyed all of our good times when she decided to stray. During our engagement party multiple people warned her about me. They all thought I was going to be the one running around behind her back. Considering how things turned out, that assumption felt like a smack in the face now.

  I mean, I knew I had a reputation, but it wasn’t as though I was proud of it. I wanted people to admire me for my self-control and my confidence, not the number of women I screwed. I think that was one of the things that drew me to Rae the other night — besides her amazing ass. She was willing to look beyond the character the media had created. It was as though she genuinely wanted to know who I was. Who knows? Maybe I was that guy, considering I’d been packing a grade-A hard-on most of the night. My balls were so blue the next morning they were basically Smurfs.

  “So, what is she like?”

  “What? Who?”

  Wanda laughed. “You look like a deer caught in headlights.” She eyed me with a teasing glance. “What, or who, was running through that big head of yours just now?”

  “Nothing. I’m just going over my next steps. I’m not sure how the guys will adjust to their new teammate being on the ice with them,” I lied.

  “Poorly is my guess. But do you think she can hold her own against them, truly? Because you know they’re going to test her out there today.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I replied. “Judging by the footage of her past games, though, I think she’ll be fine.” In truth, I wouldn’t have told Allie and Tripp to sign her if I thought she was going to be shit.

  “There she is,” Wanda whispered, taking a step forward and throwing her shoulders back, making herself seem taller.

  I followed, joining Wanda in the center of the tunnel. My skin crawled being this close to her.

  When Rae drew nearer, Wanda opened her big mouth and said, “Good morning, Miss Walsh. Welcome to the team. I wanted to be down here to greet you personally because
I’m so excited to have you with us.” She placed her hand on my shoulder, all Election Day smiles. “And I’m sure you remember Coach Bausch.” She slid her fingers down my arm and wrapped them into the crook of my elbow.

  Jesus.

  If Rae and Micah hadn’t been standing right there in front of me, I would have ripped my arm out of her skeletal grasp. But I held my composure.

  Wanda extended her hand. Rae shook it. “My name is Wanda Bausch. I’m the PR rep here at the Kraken.”

  Rae’s shimmering green eyes dimmed. “Bausch?” Her gaze flicked to me. I couldn’t help but notice the small tinge of disappointment that drifted across her brow, or maybe I was just making that up for my own personal pleasure. “I didn’t know you were married.”

  “I’m not,” I told her. “She’s my ex-wife, refuses to change her name.”

  Micah stuck his hand out in front of him. “It’s nice to see you again, Coach Bausch.”

  I pulled my arm out of Wanda’s grasp and shook his. “You too, Micah. How have you been? How was the flight over?”

  “I’ve been well, and first class held up to its reputation. Thanks for getting us those seats.”

  I smiled back. “That’s good to hear.” I took a micro step away from Wanda, needing the distance. “Micah, why don’t you go upstairs with Wanda and get the rest of the paperwork sorted? And Rae, let’s head straight to the locker room. I want you to meet the guys.”

  Micah nodded his approval. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Just follow me.” Wanda smiled at the stocky man. Her hand came to rest on her exaggerated hip.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked Rae once the other two had left. “Any nerves?”

  She sucked in a deep breath and shook her head. Her long ponytail whipped back and forth across her back. “No, I feel fine. I’m prepared. I already have an idea of what I’m walking into.”

  My eyes followed the vee of her shirt and took a quick glance at her cleavage before flicking back up to meet her face. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”