Mister Baller: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance (Bad Boys in Love Book 2)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  This is just an itch that needs scratching. A biological need. I’ve got to take care of it and once I do, my brain will go back to normal.

  I turned to a dating app—CheekyChat—to find me a potential bed buddy for the night…I’ve got to say I’m still nervous about my decision, but this date is a means for me to mitigate my risk of doing something stupid…like jumping Jude’s bones.

  And who knows? I might actually meet a nice guy. Yes, my marriage failed in spectacular fashion but maybe I could still have a great love story. One day.

  Just because my own marriage went to shit doesn't mean I have to hate on the institution as a whole. There are good husbands in this world and there are bad husbands. Not all men are dogs. Not all men are Kirk.

  There I go, getting way ahead of myself.

  “Well…What’s the step after re-branding? Marketing, no?” My mother reasons.

  I nod slowly, ‘cause I guess that makes sense. “Dating is like marketing…I like that analogy.”

  “Look at this date as marketing. Put yourself out there. See how you feel in your new skin.” She waggles her brows. “And you know what comes after marketing?” Mom gives me a sly little smile and then purses her lips to keep it from growing wider. Oh lord. “…Sales! That’s the fun part.”

  I’m not entirely sure my mother should be dispensing dating advice to anyone.

  Mom's been married three times.

  Mom shops in the teen section at TJ Maxx.

  Mom cashed in her 401k for a boob job.

  Lucille Merlini is a riot and a half. She’s absolutely gorgeous with her huge green eyes and her thick blonde curls. Growing up with her was wild. After my aunt—Penny’s mom—left her own daughter behind to pursue her dreams of being a big-time Chicago lawyer, it was just Mom and my cousin and me. We all looked out for each other and Mom always made sure there was food on the table and a roof over our heads. But she wasn’t the best at giving motherly guidance. She’s one of those people who had to learn all of life’s lessons the hard way.

  Mom was less of a mother, more of a cool older girlfriend. So, our household felt like the Yaya Sisterhood a lot of the time. Life was a constant slumber party. It was fun but sometimes it felt like we were just drifting. We didn’t always have a direction. I was one of those kids who needed stability in order to feel safe and I love my mother but the truth is, I just didn’t get that in my childhood home. I constantly felt lost, excluded. A lot of the time, I lived inside my head and it was lonely there. The fact that I’m an only child didn’t help matters at all.

  Mom claimed she didn’t know who my dad was and her fleeting relationships never offered a stable male figure. Maybe that’s why I clung so hard to Kirk when he showed up on the scene, complete with braces and vicious acne in seventh grade gym class. When he first showed interest in me, it felt like something finally clicked into place.

  Still, despite all my mother’s shortcomings, she knows me and my moods. Better than almost anyone. “What’s bugging you, baby girl?”

  I stare at my upgraded reflection and sigh. “I just feel a bit torn. Putting myself out there is scary…I mean, I’ve never flirted or any of that stuff. The idea of being intimate with some new man…It’s terrifying. Kirk was my first everything. My only everything.”

  “But he won’t be your last.” Mom squeezes my shoulder. “He doesn’t deserve that privilege.”

  We share a smile in the mirror.

  “So we’re gonna take this one step at a time, baby. Okay? Today, we’re focusing on the makeov—I mean, rebranding. Tonight, you’re gonna go on that date. You won’t put any pressure on yourself. You’re just gonna test the waters. And then, we’ll decide where to go from there.”

  This new look is already starting to grow on me. Maybe I need to start coming in more often, I decide, as I smile at my reflection. Your husband ditching you for a younger, thinner woman leaves you confused and with a feeling in your gut that never subsides. It makes those nagging voices louder, until you can’t look in any mirrors without feeling nauseous.

  But the way Jude looks at me these days…He makes me feel desirable.

  It also makes me want. Want to be touched. Kissed. Held…Fucked.

  I make a valiant effort to remind myself that falling into bed with my roommate isn’t a good plan. I’ll admit that our long-held animosity has been fading lately but we just have too much history there. Things are already tense enough between us without throwing sex into the mix.

  “Dating is so…weird,” I grumble. “Awkward. And there’s all kinds of swampy creatures out there in the dating pool.”

  Mom sighs wearily. “Well, if you were willing to bump pretties with your new roommate, you wouldn’t have to subject yourself to the dating pool. Baby girl, you need a real man in your life.” Now, she’s leaning into the mirror, re-applying her candy pink lipstick. She waggles her perfectly-shaped brows at me. “A man like Jude, perhaps?”

  “Mom!”

  “Let me see those pictures of him again.” When I resist, she nudges me in the shoulder.

  Fighting my smile, I hand her my phone, open to the Google image search of Jude Kingston I showed her earlier. It’s a long, eye-catching portfolio of pictures. Mom oohs and aahs and acts a fool as she goes through them.

  “I didn’t know that abs like that even existed,” my mother comments. “I’m coming over to your house to introduce myself. I think I need to see those in person. And maybe touch them.”

  I glare at her.

  “What?” she says innocently. “To make sure they’re not photoshopped or ab implants. We don’t need any of that false advertising stuff. Remember, we’re businesswomen, Iris. We have to do our due diligence.”

  I snatch the phone back from her and scroll through the page. The shirtless images send a shot of warmth straight to my core. I can’t deny that this man is nothing short of beautiful.

  But as I scroll further, I’m reminded of what type of life that beauty attracts. There’s photo after photo of Jude at red carpet events, fundraisers, and late-night dates. Each one features a different, picture-perfect model on his side. These women boast thin frames, silky hair, and flawless skin.

  I wasn’t built for that world. I could never in my wildest dreams compete with the women who attract a guy like Jude Kingston. I won’t deny my interest in having a man in my bed, in my life. But that man most certainly will not be a professional football player.

  I need a clean slate. With a nice, ‘regular’ guy. Like Terry, the man I’ll be meeting with for dinner tonight.

  Mom hits my hair with one last shot of hair spray. Then, she coaxes me out of my chair. “Go on, baby. Go grab that cute dress that’s hanging in the garment bag in the back. Put it on.”

  “Fine.” I rise from the styling chair. I take hesitant steps toward the back room.

  “Remember—this is not a makeover. It’s a re-branding. You’ve rebranded your shit.” She taps my butt encouragingly. “Now, go get ready to sell that sexy ass.”

  18

  Jude

  I came home to an empty house today after my session with my massage therapist, and I can’t help but wonder where my roommate is.

  I’m looking forward to our next one-on-one workout session. The house feels strange without her because Iris Merlini is almost always home, fingers glued to her computer.

  But today? No sign of the tempting blonde.

  Things have definitely thawed between us since my mom caught us in a compromising position on the living room floor the other day. It’s like Iris feels guilty or something. I don’t like that. She did nothing to be ashamed of. I crave her presence. I enjoy having her around, even if it’s just knowing she’s in the other room.

  Walker shows up in the evening, six pack in hand. I’m pretty sure Ma sent him over to meet his socializing quota for the week. Regardless, I find myself grateful for the company.

  I’m antsy and restless sitting on the couch, so I make myself some tea and lead my brot
her out to the backyard, needing some fresh air.

  My skin is crawling. Laying around all day is not in my DNA. For more than a decade, I’ve been putting in two-a-days and spending hours in the gym, building endurance and strength.

  Now, after a few weeks of rest, I can already see the difference in my muscle tone. I hate it.

  The green expansive yard extends at least half the length of a football field and would be perfect for a pickup game. “Let’s throw a ball around,” I suggest to my brother. My fingers itch to grip that smooth, dimpled pigskin. “I’m sure I have one in my room.” I head off in that direction.

  Walker stops me. “Nah, man. Let’s just sit out here. I don’t think you should be putting that much pressure on your knee.” He cracks open a beer and watches me warily.

  Frustrated, I mope, walking around for a few yards to get my blood flowing, before eventually dropping into a cushioned patio chair next to my brother. It’s an older set, but like everything in the house, it’s clean. I let my head fall back, exhaling as the setting sun warms my face.

  “I’m going crazy, Walker. I can’t just sit around all damn day. I’m going out of my fucking mind.”

  “You just have to be patient, Jude. You can’t risk compromising the healing process of your knee, or you’ll completely ruin your chances of ever playing again.” He says it in that annoying older brother tone he used to take with me when we were kids and I tried to do something stupid.

  “I know,” I grunt. I do know, and that’s why this is all so infuriating. I feel like I’m trapped inside a broken body. A body that’s not even mine. There’s so much I want to do physically, but this body won’t let me.

  “Just take your time. Listen to the doctors. Follow the therapy, and soon, you’ll be back to your old self.” He speaks carefully. Walking the fine line between being optimistic and giving me false hope. Still, it’s nice to know this brother hasn’t written me off completely. He’s open to the idea that I might be able to pull through this thing.

  He reaches over to hand me a beer. I shake my head. “I’m not supposed to mix alcohol with my meds.” I’m still on painkillers. “And besides, I’ve got my tea.”

  He shakes his head. “You and your weird-ass tea.”

  “Bro, do you know how many people have avoided an ass-whooping from me over the past few months because of my tea?” I take a sip and look out over the lawn just as the automatic sprinklers flick on.

  Walker leans back in his chair and laughs. “All thanks to the calming effects of chamomile, huh?”

  “Damn straight.” I grin.

  My brother and I recline and talk shit as the evening wears on. It isn’t lost on me how much I appreciate his company. My time in Crescent Harbor has been quiet so far. Much more quiet than I’m used to. Aside from hanging with my family, I’ve pretty much spent all my free time by myself. Which is good for a little introspection, I guess.

  After leaving half a dozen messages for Kirk, I finally got to speak to him yesterday. The conversation was short. After a few minutes of small talk, he asked when I expect to be back in the game. And because he and I used to be damn close at one point, I let my guard down and confided in him. I told him I may never play football again. The conversation fizzled out quick-fast after that. He claimed he had papers to grade or some crap. It was a slap to the face after confessing to him something I haven’t even told my parents. When I invited him to grab a drink with me, he sort of gave me the brush-off, saying he has a lot on his plate right now. All right. Be like that, Fucker. I can take a hint. At least now I know where he and I truly stand.

  I really wanted to have a man-to-man with him and let him know I’m Iris’s new roommate but if he can’t make an hour to shoot the breeze with me, then so be it. What happens happens with that shit.

  Anyway, Walker is cracking his third beer open when the back screen door creaks open. I don’t have to look in that direction to feel Iris’s presence.

  “Hey, Walker,” she greets my brother, offering him a friendly voice. “How’re you doing?”

  He matches her tone. “I’m good, Iris.”

  I keep my gaze straight ahead as they chat. I’m not in the mood to face all the things I feel when I look at her.

  The uncomfortable things. The inappropriate things. The forbidden things.

  And there’s no way I can look at her right now without my brother reading all of that in my expression.

  “You look really fancy tonight.” Walker takes a sip of his beer. “Got any plans?”

  But despite my attempts to remain indifferent, at the next words out of her mouth, the green-eyed monster in my belly gut-punches me from the inside.

  She hesitates. “I have a date, actually.”

  My head snaps in her direction. I can’t help it.

  One look at her and my cock is a fucking brick.

  Her glossy blonde hair is in a high, twisty knot that catches the afternoon sun. Her cheeks are rosy, her eyes twinkle, and her skin is glowing. She looks…different. Ethereal, maybe.

  Ethereal? Jeez. I don’t think I’ve ever used that word to describe a woman before.

  “You’re beautiful,” I blurt out, not realizing I said the words out loud until all eyes swing my way.

  A small smile teases Iris’s lips, as she self-consciously smooths down her flawless hair. And she’s wearing this dress. The thing clings to her curves like it’s begging to be torn off with my bare hands. Fuck—if I don’t get a hold of myself, I just might.

  “Thank you,” she says, chewing on her lip. “I’ll let you boys get back to it. I have to go finish getting ready.”

  She flees back into the house, leaving me to try and figure out what the hell just happened.

  I don’t have to look at my brother to know that he’s watching me with a shit-eating grin on his goofy face. “Enjoy your date, Iris,” the traitor calls after her. “I hope it goes well.” I can tell he’s saying it just to fuck with me. The bastard.

  I’m practically vibrating in my skin.

  Walker tosses me a look and smirks. “No chemistry, huh?”

  “Shut up.” I sip my tea.

  Before long, Walker has reached his quota for socializing and he’s ready to go home.

  I walk him to the front door, relieved to get rid of his ass and tired of having to face myself in the mirror he threw up in my face. I go up to my room and drop down on my bed.

  Trying to tell myself I don’t care about Iris and her stupid date, I mindlessly flip through channels on the TV. Iris and I are friends. I definitely have no place meddling in her love life.

  Before long, there’s a car in the driveway. And some whack ass guy is ringing the doorbell with his nerdy glasses and his hair side-parted and his shirt buttoned all the way up to his chin. Before I can move my stiff ass out of the bed, Iris is at the door and he’s leading her out to his shitty car. The rust bucket pulls away from the curb and disappears at the intersection.

  And I get that feeling. Y’know the feeling you get, right before you do something hella’ stupid? That warning voice that tells you to take a step back?

  Yeah…tonight, I ignore that bitch.

  19

  Iris

  Flickers of candlelight sparkle around the small room and well-dressed patrons carry on low conversations. I take a nervous sip of my wine then fiddle with the spaghetti-thin strap of my royal blue fitted dress as I glance around the fancy restaurant. I’m all tangled up on the inside.

  Again, I remind myself that I’m a single woman. I have every right to be out on a date with a nice man like Terry. No point in being all guilty and nostalgic when Kirk couldn’t sign the divorce papers fast enough. Anyway, all I know is that my ex has moved on and I should, too.

  That's why I find myself at Le Sous-Sol, Crescent Harbor’s finest French restaurant, getting good and liquored up and primed to make some bad decisions as I wait for my date to get back from the washroom.

  Because I want le sexe.

  All th
at wild, glorious, uninhibited sex Lexi's always talking about, that I never experienced when I was married or even before that. Tonight, I won't let my insecurities get in the way. And I definitely will not think about my roommate.

  I won’t think about him.

  At least that’s the plan…until he comes strolling through the restaurant’s front door.

  Oh my gosh. Are you for real right now?

  I just left him at my house with Walker. He didn’t seem to have plans. Yet here he is, an hour later, looking tall, dark and delicious in a black button down shirt and gray slacks as the hostess leads him across the room to the bar. The way he moves his body…all that barely-restrained horsepower. Jeez.

  Is he here on a date, too? Is he meeting a woman? Not that I have the right to care.

  Jude takes a seat at the counter, all thick shoulders and long legs. He spins his stool and his gaze scans the place from corner to corner like he’s looking for someone.

  Our eyes lock together. And, I lose my breath.

  He looks so good. Black button-down. Five o’clock shadow. Sexy, tousled hair.

  I swear if someone asked me my name right now, I wouldn’t be able to answer. My heart is beating so hard. It feels like there’s a horny seal in my chest, vigorously humping my ribcage.

  He’s totally checking me out, by the way. He’s not even trying to hide it. His eyes take a hit of my cleavage and linger there. I can almost feel the red splotches sprouting up on my chest and cheeks. Jude licks his lips then aims a dimpled smile at me.

  That’s when a sandy-haired thirty-something man of average height and average weight and average looks steps into my line of vision, cutting off my view of the football-playing sex god. The man smiles.

  Oh, right. My date.

  I give Terry a smile in return and focus on him. “I’m really sorry about that.” He waves his phone in the air. “Small business owners never rest.”