Bad Ballers: A Contemporary Sports Romance Box Set

by Bishop, S. J.

  Ted’s father looked at me as if I were a worm that had somehow ended up on his hook. He should have intimidated me, but I was too outraged at the way he’d spoken to his son. There was no joking humor, just plain accusation.

  “And what would you know about it?” asked Ted’s father, just managing to stay this side of nasty.

  “Not as much about the game as you,” I allowed. “But as a Patriots fan, I can tell you that Coach uses all of his weapons. If Ted had a bad game last week, you can bet he’ll see more playing time than the other receivers. That tends to be Coach’s method. Any other coach might have his QB throw the ball to anyone else. But I’ll put good money on Dash Barnes using Ted at least twice a drive for the first half. Until the Cowboys wise up and start covering him.”

  Ted’s father stared at me, his face reddening, and I was saved by the waiter who came up to see if we knew what we wanted to eat.

  Once we’d placed our orders, I felt Ted’s hand squeeze my knee under the table. “I don’t care what your little girlfriend says,” said Mr. Schneider, reaching into the bread basket and palming a roll, no longer addressing me. “If I were your coach, I’d be signing you to the first idiot who’d take your contract off my hands.”

  What the hell was going on? Why was Ted’s dad being so antagonistic? I knew Ted wouldn’t appreciate me standing up for him further. He was a big boy; he could take care of himself, so I tried to focus on buttering my roll and not hurling it at Mr. Schneider’s balding head.

  “Oh! Michelle Kelly’s mother was at the fundraiser,” said Mrs. Schneider, changing the subject. “She was saying that she and her husband watch your games every week. Did you know Michelle went to dental school…”

  As the dinner wore on, I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing and hearing. I vaguely recalled the Schneiders being less than pleasant company, but I was not prepared for Mr. Schneider’s outright antagonism or his wife’s purposeful self-absorption. Each time Mr. Schneider went on the attack, Mrs. Schneider would start talking about how many healthy omega fats there were and how she wished there was salmon on the menu.

  I was actually impressed that Ted didn’t holler at both of his parents. His father, he treated with casual attention that tread the line of disrespect. His mother, he pretended to listen to intently, but each time she began to speak, he would grab my hand as if it were his patience and he was hanging on for all he was worth.

  I was appalled when his father ordered a two hundred dollar glass of scotch, knowing full well that Ted was picking up the bill.

  By the time his parents left and we were standing out front waiting for our limo, I had a new understanding of Ted and an intense loathing for the Schneiders.

  “They didn’t ask you a single question the entire night!” I railed.

  “They usually don’t,” Ted said. “Do you know I actually managed to enjoy that dinner a bit, especially when you made my dad look like an idiot right at the beginning.”

  “You dad is an idiot,” I fumed. “And so is your mother.”

  “Her, I don’t blame,” said Ted. “She does her best.”

  “No. She could say something to him,” I said.

  “Ah,” said Ted, shaking his head. “You could say something to him, maybe. You have no problem facing down bullies. My mother doesn’t have the force of personality, much as I love her.”

  “No wonder you seek validation wherever you can find it,” I huffed, throwing open the door of the limo as it came to a stop before the restaurant. “You clearly never got any growing up!”

  Ted didn’t respond to that as he slid into the limo behind me. Silence descended as we headed back toward the hotel. “You know,” he said quietly, after a moment. “I thought a lot about what you said to me back at your place. About how maybe I’m not able to give you what you want.”

  I waited.

  Ted opened his mouth and then closed it. Shaking his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this in a limo. Erin: I love you.”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “No?” Ted said, bewildered.

  “You can’t just say it because you think that’s what I need to hear…”

  “And you can’t reject it because you think I don’t mean it!” said Ted, aghast.

  “Sure I can,” I argued.

  Ted reached over and grabbed my hands. “Erin Duvall, of course I fucking love you. And yeah, okay, I didn’t get to hear it enough as a child, but that doesn’t mean I get to pretend I don’t know what it is. I do. It’s you.”

  He reached down before I could gainsay him and pressed a hard, determined kiss on my lips. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted is to win a Super Bowl because that was the one accolade that my father and my brother never accomplished. My dad is right. You distract me. And you are the one thing that can distract me enough to take my eye off the prize. Do you know why? Because you’re the real prize, Erin. And I feel like such an ass saying all these ridiculous things, but if you need to hear them from me, then I’ll speak them. Because they’re true. I love you.”

  I knew I should be crying, but I couldn’t find the strength to shed tears. So much had happened in such a short time.

  “Stop shaking your head,” Ted growled.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re overloading me!” And then I started to laugh. I laughed so hard I cried, and then I was really crying. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s not you…”

  “I’m just a part of it,” said Ted, understanding and hauling me into his arms. He sat there until my tears turned to laughs again.

  “Oh god,” I said. “I’m hysterical.” I reached up and cupped the side of Ted’s face. “Goddamn it. I love you, too. It’s why I’m still here…”

  “I know.” Ted reached down and kissed me, getting my tears all over his cheeks. When he sat back, the limo had come to a stop in front of our hotel.

  “God,” I said, staring up at him. “You are more of a mess than I ever realized.”

  Ted grinned. “Does that make it easier on you?”

  “To know that Prince Charming is just a broken little kid underneath that pretty façade? Sure helps.”

  “Well, good,” said Ted. “I’m glad. Now, get off me so I can get out of this car, get you upstairs, and show you just what I mean when I say ‘I love you.’”

  Epilogue

  A Beezeness Exclusive

  THE GIRL, THE PRINCE, THE HAPPILY EVER AFTER

  By Erin Duvall

  There was once a single Beezeness employee who lived in a lonely apartment in a big, lonely city. She was, in many ways, like you: a romantic who had, after a series of failed relationships, decided that there was no such thing as fairy tale love.

  And yet, she was happy enough. She had good friends. She liked her job. And while she occasionally dreamed of how nice it would be to be loved, she remembered, too, the bitter bite of heartache.

  One night, as she wandered the streets, thinking about all of the mistakes she’d made in love, she came upon a store-front window where a woman offered her a glimpse at her future.

  “Your future is in your past,” the woman said.

  But that can’t be, thought the girl. For there is nothing in my past to which I wish to return.

  Leaving the premises, the young woman thought about all of the loves she’d lost. As she drove off to find her friends and tell them of the fortune teller’s strange prediction…

  A drunk driver in a blue car ran a red light and smashed her car and her memories to pieces.

  Alas, dear reader, there is no such thing as a real-life fairy tale. There are no Prince Charmings and no Sleeping Beauties. There are comas, and lawsuits, and nine-to-fives. There are ex-boyfriends, policemen, and football players. No one is wholly good, and no one is wholly evil. There are jealousies, insecurities, and fears, of course. But there is also love, understanding, and forgiveness.

  There’s me – Erin Duval – and a pretty great guy named Ted, and a strange story you’re going to have to
read to believe…

  “I love it!” Sarah Forte declared, grinning ear to ear. “You’ve got a great voice!”

  “Thanks,” I said, grinning back at her.

  “I can’t wait to read the rest, seriously,” she said. “Have you thought about blogging on your own?”

  I shook my head and opened my mouth to explain further, but the shift in the room’s energy alerted us that half time was over and the players were lining up again. It had taken almost twenty minutes to dismantle Sia’s half-time show stage, and so everyone in the player’s box had had the opportunity to de-stress. Now, however, the tension ramped back up. The score was tied 20-20. Both the Packers and the Patriots had managed to score two touch downs and two field goals during the first half.

  “I hope coach had a few harsh words for the Defense,” said Courtney Hart, coming up behind us. I hadn’t noticed Courtney leave the room, but her daughter, Lea, was now sporting a foam finger that she hadn’t been sporting before.

  “It’s going to bring them luck,” said Lea, when she saw me looking at it.

  “I hope so!” said Sarah.

  “Why don’t you go watch down by the front, Baby,” said Courtney, waving her daughter towards the glass. Lea didn’t need to be told twice and hurried to press her nose to the glass.

  “How are you ladies holding up?” asked Courtney. While I’d connected with Sarah Forte, Burke Tyler’s fiancé, at a few of these games, I’d only just met Courtney. She’d introduced herself, wryly, as Ryan McLaughlin’s baby-mama. Sarah had rolled her eyes, and I got the feeling that Courtney was a bit more to Mac than just his baby-mama.

  “I’m a wreck,” said Sarah, crossing her arms. “I don’t know why. Burke already has a freaking ton of Super Bowl rings. You’d think getting one more wouldn’t matter.”

  Courtney snorted. “You’d think that, but you’d be wrong.”

  I tried to smile, but I found that my nerves had come back with a vengeance. “I’m going to go watch near the front,” I said to them.

  “We’ll join you in a minute,” said Sarah. “I’ve got to bend this gal’s ear for a bit.”

  Teething! I heard Sarah say with exasperation, as I headed down to the front row. Ah. Mom talk.

  The only empty seat in the front was next to a young, red-headed woman wearing a sleeping infant in a Boba wrap.

  “Is this seat taken?” I asked her. We hadn’t been introduced, and I definitely hadn’t seen her at any of the games to date. She was pretty, but looked a bit sleep deprived. No doubt due to the baby, who could not be older than one month.

  “Oh no, please,” said the woman, gesturing at the seat beside her.

  “I’m Erin,” I said, extending my hand.

  “Anne,” she said, taking it.

  “I like her headphones,” I said, pointing to the noise canceling headphones covering the baby’s ears.

  “I wasn’t sure I should bring her,” said the young woman, eyes focused on the field. “But Dash got these headphones for her so that we could both be here tonight.”

  Dash, as in Dash Barnes? Dash Barnes had a baby!? I wracked my brain, trying to think if I’d heard anything about Dash and another woman. He hasn’t even been divorced a year… I blinked, recalling something that Ted had mentioned in the wake of the AFC game. “Gotta make sure I send Dash some flowers.”

  “That was thoughtful,” I said. I looked back at the field. The snapper released the ball and Dash danced backwards, rushing out of the way as one of the Packer’s defenders broke through the line. Dash launched the ball to the left, right into the waiting arms of Cassidy Woods. First down.

  “Wooo!” Someone cheered. I looked over, recognizing the young woman victory dancing as Caz’s fiancé Jamie.

  “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” said Anne, drawing my attention back to her.

  “I’m not feeling too well, myself,” I said. There was a lot riding on this for Ted. He hadn’t said more than two words all week, he’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts. “The Packers defense is tough tonight, and the Pats are having a hard time stopping the Packers offense.”

  Anne nodded, worrying at her lip. “They’ll be fine,” she said.

  “They’ll be fine,” I repeated.

  An hour later, none of us were feeling very fine. The atmosphere in the players box had gone from jubilation at the Patriots third quarter 27 to 20 score, to pure dread as, by the two minute mark in the fourth quarter the score was 27 to 34, Packers.

  Dash had the ball.

  “Come on, baby. Come on,” whispered Anne. Behind us, Sarah gripped the back of my seat, Courtney had taken Lea to watch from the green room (there’d been a bit too much swearing in the player’s box).

  “It’s fine,” said Sarah. “This is what he does. He’s always best in the clutch.”

  The snapper snapped the ball. Dash had it a full two seconds before launching it to Burke Tyler, who was being covered by two defenders.

  “Holy shit!” Cried Anne as Burke leapt into the air, fingers snagging the football that looked as if it were going to sail straight over his head. He landed on the ground hard, defenders taking his feet out from under him.

  “He’s still got the ball,” cried Sarah.

  “They need to stop the clock!” Someone else yelled. The Pats were running to the line, and the snap happened a second later. Dash looked left looked right and started as two defenders broke through the line and came right at him. For a moment, it looked as if he was going to have to ground the ball, but then he spotted something and let it fly… right into the waiting hands of Caz Woods, who fell immediately out of bounds at the forty-yard line.

  Only a minute left to play. “They can do it!” hissed Sarah in my ear. They got this.

  But the Packers weren’t having it. Three snaps and the Pats only moved the ball five yards. Fourth Down. Shit.

  “He has to go for it,” whispered Anne, jaw clenched. My hands were white where they gripped the seat.

  The Pats lined up. The snapper released the ball.

  I blinked. I hadn’t seen Ted move, but he wasn’t on the left anymore. He was hauling up the field, tearing away from the path of the safety. And Dash saw him. He pulled his arm back and let the ball fly.

  We all held our breaths as the ball hurtled through the air, as Ted hurtled down the field. He leapt, and I’ve never seen someone jump so high. His fingers tipped the ball.

  A collective gasp rose. The whole stadium seemed to hold their breath as the ball spun in mid-air for a split second before Ted grabbed it tightly to him.

  “RUN!” Someone hollered.

  “Go! Go!” People started screaming. My heart was in my throat as Ted dodged one defender then another, scrambling to regain his speed, to make it over the end zone line.

  TOUCHDOWN PATRIOTS! The announcer screamed.

  Pandemonium erupted in the box. Chips and drinks flew everywhere. People screamed and grabbed each other. I felt Sarah’s hands grab my shoulders, but I couldn’t respond. 33 to 34.

  “Do they take it into overtime or do they go for the conversion?” someone asked.

  “They take the point!” snapped Sarah. “Of course they take the point!”

  But the Pats were lining up again. The kicker hadn’t come out.

  “Oh god,” said Sarah.

  “Oh god,” I repeated. They weren’t going to tie the game. They weren’t going to try to get the ball back in overtime. They were going to shut this thing down now.

  I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t think as the snapper snapped the ball. I could only watch Ted. Watch him throw himself through the gap that opened up in the defense wall, watch him whirl just in time for Dash’s ball to sail over the heads of the Packers defenders and into his outstretched hands.

  2 point conversion.

  Pats win.

  The screams were deafening. The who stadium shook with them as red white and blue confetti poured out of the cannons and streamed onto the field.

  Everyone
was running, pushing to leave the box, to run onto the field and find their loved ones. I could barely feel my feet beneath me, I’d gone so numb. I let Sarah take my hand and tug me through everyone, releasing me only once we’d hit the turf.

  Then I came back to myself. Ted! Oh god! He’d done it!

  I could just see him through the throngs of reporters. He was being lifted off his feet by Burke Tyler. He landed only to be accosted by more of his teammates, slamming their helmets against his, slapping his pads.

  Reporters shoved their microphones into his face, others were heading towards Dash.

  I felt the moment Ted noticed me, his eyes finding me through the crowd. He threw his shoulder between two reporters pushing his way towards me.

  I knew I was beaming so hard that my eyes were tearing up, and when Ted threw off his helmet, I saw that his eyes were wet too.

  “You did it!” I cried as he reached me. He pulled me up into a hug so hard all the air left my lungs. His lips came down and fastened on mine, and I felt flashes go off around us.

  “You did it!” I gasped as he lips left mine, my cheeks wet with our mingled tears of triumph.

  Ted grinned fiercely.

  “Ted Schneider!” Someone was hollering over his shoulder. “You just caught the game-winning pass! The Patriots have won the super bowl! What are you going to do next!?”

  Ted laughed and leaned down, nipping my ear. “What do you think, babe? Do I tell him exactly what I’m going to do next? All the dirty, dirty details?”

  I laughed out loud. My only response was to kiss him again.

  Sarah looked over her shoulder, eyes scanning the field and then scanning the box. We were only a few games away from the AFC championships

  Blitz (Preview)

  Drop Kicked

  1

  Emma

  The San Francisco Tomcats sure knew how to throw a party. I searched the room for my father and saw a cluster of players checking me out. I shot them a practiced smile, dazzling enough to acknowledge that I was the hottest woman in the room, but austere enough to emphasize that they had better keep their distance.