by S A Clayton
Hard Ball
Stadium Series Book 1
S.A. Clayton
Copyright © 2021 by S.A. Clayton
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To the real Josh Anderson.
I’m sorry I didn’t google the name before getting attached. But thanks for being okay with being my books hero.
Contents
1. Harper
2. Harper
3. Josh
4. Harper
5. Josh
6. Harper
7. Josh
8. Harper
9. Josh
10. Harper
11. Josh
12. Harper
13. Josh
14. Harper
15. Josh
16. Harper
17. Josh
18. Harper
19. Josh
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Also by S.A. Clayton
1
Harper
The bar is packed as my eyes look around trying to find Mel, who texted that she’s already here and ready to get drunk. We’ve been coming to Paul’s Bar since college and although I think we’ve matured beyond needing to get drunk on a Monday night, apparently Mel never got the memo. I’d much rather be at home, binge-watching all four seasons of Stranger Things than be here, pretending to smile all night.
“Harper!” Mel yells from across the room as she motions to the two empty seats at the bar next to her. I wonder for a split second if the entire downtown core decided to come out tonight, and I dread the next few hours. It’s not that I hate Paul’s, it has everything you need to have a great time, aside from the lack of bed or pajamas. There is a line of dartboards along the back wall, a raised stage to my left that is usually reserved for karaoke nights every Saturday, and let’s not forget the wall of TV screens that takes over every one of your senses the closer you get.
Mel yells once again, our eyes meeting as hers tell me to get my ass over to her. The sigh comes naturally as I make my way over to her. Paul’s is known for its round bar, set directly in the middle of the room. The dark oak bar top is covered in stickers, something I try not to think about because if I delve into how they clean it—or don’t—I might never come back. There are dozens of neon bar signs that hang from the ceiling and create a weird glow across the room. When I reach Mel’s side, I tap the bar, getting the bartender’s attention, ordering a rum and Coke.
“What’s wrong with you tonight? You look like I made you come here against your will…” She takes the seat next to me as I roll my eyes because she did pretty much bring me here against my will, promising me a quick drink, but seeing the way she’s dressed and the smile on her face, I know that was all a lie. But her happiness is enough for me to stick this night out because Mel’s the light to my darkness. Her long blonde hair dyed red, and green eyes light up every room she enters, making her extremely intimidating, but in truth, she’s just as much of a dork as I am, just in a different package. But I do notice the looks we get when we’re together, with my dyed blonde hair that’s hiding the person I once was, to the yoga instructor wardrobe that shows just how much effort I put into my appearance. I’m not naïve to the fact that we’re complete opposites, but after seven years of friendship, neither of us can let go.
“Nothing is wrong,” I growl, taking a sip of my drink and looking around at the packed bar around me. I take another even bigger sip, hoping the burn helps get me through the night.
“Nothing, my ass,” Mel says, taking my hand. “Cole was a dipshit, and I never liked him anyway.”
I take a breath because I promised myself a night of not thinking about my asshole ex. But now that’s gone out the window. I know I did the right thing. Cole was a dipshit.
“You know what you need?” she asks, her eyes scanning the room and from the way her gaze lands on every guy in sight, I know exactly what she’s doing and before she opens her mouth, I start shaking my head.
“Don’t even say it,” I mutter, her smile turning devious.
“You need a rebound, someone to get the image of Cole out of your head.”
Little does she know that he himself isn’t inside my head, it’s the image of him fucking his secretary that seems to play on a loop.
“No way, I told you last night that I needed a break from men, for at least a few weeks. I’m not capable of handling their shit right now, I have enough of my own.”
Mel rolls her eyes but seems to ignore my words and spins on her stool, searching the bar once more. As I follow her gaze, I notice the small group of guys congregated near the dartboards surrounded by a group of girls. Mel’s eyes dilate as mine narrow at the scene before me, knowing exactly who those guys are and wanting no part of it.
“No, Mel, anyone but them,” I beg, cringing at the way the girls fawn all over them, the way their egos take over the entire space and it doesn’t take a genius to realize that these guys are pro baseball players.
It’s not uncommon for pros to hang out at Paul’s, it’s been around since the seventies and is usually discrete enough that players can come and go as they please without being harassed by fans… women? That’s a whole other issue altogether. Mel’s devious smile is turned on me and I start shaking my head again, hoping she gets how serious I am about this. There are many reasons to stay away from men like that. One, I’ve lived by the no baseball players rule, and so far, I’ve lasted twenty-six years and I don’t plan on breaking that streak now. Secondly, with the amount of pussy that seems to follow them wherever they go, I’m not really in the mood to fight off a woman who thinks she has an imaginary hold on a grown man.
“Too bad,” she says before downing the rest of her drink before she gets up from her stool and turns toward me. “You need to interact with some hot men…”
I audibly sigh as her eyes soften.
“I’m not telling you that you have to sleep with one of them, although from what you’ve told me about dipshit, you could use a good fuck.” She smirks at that last part, and the worst part is that she’s not wrong. My sex life these last few years has been less than ideal. Even with Cole in the picture, it was never mind-blowing. Honestly, it’s been so long since I’ve had mind-blowing sex, I wonder if it’s even possible anymore.
“I’m not like you,” I start before taking another sip of my drink. “This isn’t easy for me…” The pity in her gaze has the pit in my stomach growing heavier with each passing second. I hate that look.
This stuff has always been easy for Mel. Confident to a fault, fearless in the pursuit of a good time even when I know deep down, she wants exactly what I want. To settle down and find that one person that sands down the sharp edges of your life, the one that looks at all your faults and still sees the most beautiful person they’ve ever seen. But I know the last time Mel felt that pit in her stomach, wishing on a star kind of love, it broke her apart. And I know she uses the armor of getting laid, no strings attached sex as a way to deflect her feelings, and sometimes I’m in awe of her stamina and sometimes I want to punch her.
Tonight, I want to punch her.
“It’s easy for me because practice makes perfect.” She winks as I roll my eyes for the thousandth time tonight, thinking back to the first time I met Cole. I never meant for us to last as long as we did, he was supposed to be a one-night stand, yet before I knew it, he was staying over on weekends and two years later, I’
m stuck with mediocre memories and an ex that I’d rather forget.
Mel shifts beside me and when I look over, I stare in fascination as she eye fucks a guy on the other side of the bar. At this point I know exactly how our girls’ night is going to end up, and I silently thank God because now I can go home and get out of these damn heels. I glance at my godforsaken footwear and groan. The black wedges are the only pair of heels I own, which in turn means they’re the only ones I know how to walk in. Tonight, I paired them with dark wash skinny jeans with holes all along my thigh and a dark green camisole that shows just enough cleavage to make me feel amazing, but not enough to garner too much male attention.
Before I have the chance to tell Mel that I’m leaving, allowing her to climb all over Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome across the room, someone touches the small of my back, making me jump.
“Hey there gorgeous, mind if I sit?” I quickly glance behind me seeing a man many women would die to have touch them, but I shrug away and turn back to Mel, who is still paying no attention to me. I ignore his question, tapping on the bar and ordering another drink. “I’m going to take that as a yes.” I can hear the smirk as he takes his hand off my back as I take a deep breath.
Okay. New plan.
I spin on my stool, placing my newly filled glass on the bar. The second my eyes land on him, I know exactly who he is, and I definitely do not have the patience for a man like him right now. Cameron King is one of the best pitchers in the major leagues and a complete and total manwhore. And right now, his eyes are tracking me like I’m his next meal.
I do a once-over myself, studying the short brown hair styled perfectly, deep brown eyes, and a smile that should make me weak in the knees, yet I feel absolutely nothing. He’s wearing a simple black T-shirt that accentuates his forearms and loose hanging blue jeans paired with Converse shoes. A man after my own heart.
“By the look on your face, I take it you know who I am?” He smirks, taking another swig of his beer and winking at me over the rim.
“Yes, I know who you are. You’re kind of hard to miss.”
He chuckles, missing the sarcasm completely. I’m just about to ask him to leave when Mel decides to grace us with her presence.
“I knew you would catch the eye of someone tonight!” she practically yells as Cam raises his eyebrows. “I’m Melissa,” she starts, getting between me and Cam. “And this is—”
She motions to me with her thumb, but I interrupt her. “Mel!” I mumble under my breath, not wanting Cam to know my name. She looks blankly in my direction as I slightly shake my head, hoping she gets the idea.
“This is my…” She gives me one last look before finishing with, “Friend.”
I nod, smiling that she finally got the point.
“Who is desperate for a good time.”
And of course, she has to go and ruin it. This cannot be happening right now.
My head falls into the palms of my hands as Cam starts laughing beside me. “Oh really?” he sounds intrigued, getting closer and closer with every passing second. “What did you have in mind?” he whispers against the shell of my ear, sending a wave of irritation over my entire being.
“I. Am. Not. Interested.” I punctuate with every breath. I don’t know how else I can spell it out, but from the look on Cam’s face and the horror on Mel’s, I need to find another way.
“Come on, Harp,” Mel whispers in my ear. “Just humor me.”
I lock eyes with Cam, hoping he can’t hear our conversation.
“Just play a game of darts with the guy. Please?” She’s practically begging and I know if I don’t agree, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Fine,” I mumble, getting off my stool and taking my drink in my hand. “Come on hotshot, let’s play a round so I can go home.”
“Whatever you say, my lady,” he says, motioning for me to lead the way. Cam’s eyes are on my ass the entire time I walk toward the dartboards. I wish I felt even a sliver of arousal when his eyes land on my body, but I don’t. Tonight would be so much more interesting if I did, though.
I find an empty board, set down my glass on the high-top table beside me, and go to retrieve the darts off the board.
“You know those pants make your ass look amazing, right?”
I stop. Does shit like that actually work for men these days? I take a very long, very large sip of my drink and pray I have the strength to get through this game.
“You know, telling a girl she has a nice ass might seem like a good idea, but it just lets us know that’s all you care to look at.”
He barks out a laugh as I set up to throw my first dart.
“What can I say? I’m an ass man,” he admits as I toss the dart, completely missing the board and hitting the wall.
“What a surprise…” I deadpan as Cam smiles and looks me up and down once more. Do men actually think we like being talked to like this?
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He winks as he sets up and throws all three darts perfectly. I guess I should have guessed since it is his job to aim and throw.
“Look, Cam, as much as I love watching you pitch for the Hawks, I’m not into ballplayers, okay?”
He quirks an eyebrow before he turns and walks over to retrieve his darts, handing them to me as he hovers.
“You’re seriously saying no.” It’s not even framed as a question, more like a disbelieving sigh, and for a second I feel bad for the guy. He must not be used to women saying no. Maybe I’ll be the first of many, so his ego quivers just a little bit. “Can I at least know the name of the first woman to turn down Cameron King?” If he didn’t speak about himself in the third person, I might have thought about telling him. But now? Not a chance.
I take my stance once again, determined to actually hit the board this time when I look back at Cam. “A good mystery never hurt anyone,” I say just as I release the dart from my hand. It’s not until I hear someone scream, that I turn around.
“Jesus, fucking Christ!”
My eyes scan the crowd in front of me, trying to see what all the commotion is about when my eyes catch sight of the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. His blue eyes track up my body, sending shivers cascading down every limb, and as our eyes meet, I realize I’m in so much trouble. Because standing in front of me is none other than Josh Anderson, third baseman for the Toronto Hawks and Cam’s teammate.
And the worst part? He had my dart sticking out of his arm.
2
Harper
The man standing in front of me is drop-dead gorgeous. Nope, that’s not even an accurate description of how he looks right now. Sexy? Hell yes. Hot as hell? Yes, that too. I try and find words to describe how his dirty blond hair falls freely over his eyes, the way my fingers itch to feel the shaved sides of his head that are peeking through those strands of hair, tempting me. Baiting me. His jet blue eyes are incredibly striking, and his five o’clock shadow just adds this ruggedness that is making it very hard for me to stop staring at him.
I do a full-body scan, knowing that I’m doing the same thing Cam did to me earlier, but I can’t help it. The man is built like he was created just for me. With his arms and chest visibly defined through his thin Henley shirt that could be black or dark blue depending on the light. Yet when my eyes meet his once more, I’m surprised at the look of anger and lust staring back at me. But what I don’t expect is the feeling of heat that travels through my body and how much I like his eyes on me.
“Holy shit!” Cam yells from beside me, taking me out of my Josh trance as I watch him stalk toward me. “Anderson, you okay, man?” The laughter in Cam’s voice brings a slight smirk to Josh’s lips as he nods, slowly reaching up and pulling the dart out of his arm and placing it gently on the table in front of me.
“You throw this, Sunshine?” he grumbles, never taking those eyes off me. The nickname is one I’ve heard before, but my reaction is completely new. My palms start to sweat, and my hands start to shake.
“Shit,” I mutt
er, my head finally clearing and realizing what the fuck just happened. “I am so sorry!” I panic, taking the dart from the table and leaning in to inspect his arm. “I must not have seen you walking before I threw it.” I want to tell him that maybe he shouldn’t be walking in front of dartboards, but the words get stuck in the back of my throat. My fingers trace the outline of his bicep, his muscles tensing under every touch and my breath catching with each pass.
“At least she hit something…” Cam whispers beside me and I roll my eyes as a look of amusement passes over Josh’s face.
“That bad, huh?” Josh teases.
“I am right here, you know,” I mumble as Cam pats me on the back and takes a swig of his beer.
“You have no idea. She hit the wall more than the actual board.”
Okay, so maybe he’s right, but that doesn’t mean I want everyone within earshot to know just how terrible I am. But I’m guessing since I threw a dart into someone, everyone knows just how terrible I am at this game.
“Can I buy you a drink?” I ask, hoping to get away from the topic of me stabbing him with a dart. Josh’s lips quirk, sending my libido spinning.
“Shouldn’t that be my line?” he whispers, getting close enough that his breath whips against my skin, and I audibly swallow the lump in my throat.
“I just thought since I impaled you, that you deserve some alcohol on me.”
He shows me that perfect smile, sending goose bumps across my skin.
“Come on,” he says, inclining his head and motioning me to follow.
