The Barnes Family Romances: (Books 1-3)

by Normandie Alleman

  “Yeah. I thought it would be all about looking at stars, but really it was a lot of math. Too much math.”

  He chuckled.

  “Why? Are you happy playing basketball?”

  “Of course. Present company excluded, it’s my favorite thing to do in the world.”

  “Oh.”

  “But I can’t play basketball forever, you know? Even the greatest athlete will have to retire one day.”

  “So you’re thinking about what you want to do for act two?”

  “Yeah. Nick Barnes 2.0.”

  We both laughed. “What do you want to do?” I asked.

  “Lucinda is grooming me for the box. She wants me to be an announcer.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to coach.”

  “Really? I can see that.”

  “High school, maybe college. Not the pros. But I’d love to be a college coach.”

  I squeezed his hand. “You’d be really good at that.”

  “I think I could make a difference. You know, pass down what I know about the game to future generations.”

  He had obviously given this a lot of thought. “That sounds perfect for you, Nick. Why don’t you?”

  “Well, there’s Lucinda…”

  “What about her? It’s your life we’re talking about, not hers.”

  “I know, but she’d never let me hear the end of it.”

  “Your mom wants the best for you, but she doesn’t understand that not everybody needs to be in the spotlight all the time the way she does. Maybe you can help her understand that.”

  “That’s a good point. I never thought of it that way.”

  I kissed his hand. It felt so great just talking with him like this about our hopes and dreams for the future.

  “What about you? I know that medical company of yours doesn’t take up all of your time, and cheerleading has an off-season. Is there anything else you want to do?”

  I shifted back on my hip, slightly uncomfortable that the conversation had come back to me. “I don’t know,” I hedged.

  He tugged me closer to him and tickled my ribs. “Oh no! I don’t believe you. What aren’t you telling me?” he teased.

  “Nothing, it’s just I do have a kinda farfetched dream. Something I’d love to do one day.”

  His tone grew more serious. “You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Promise?” I knew he wouldn’t, but I needed to hear him say the words.

  “Promise.”

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath, then blurted it out. “So I know I’m not a celebrity or anything, but I’d like to do one of those dancing shows.”

  “You mean like The Stars Go Dancing?”

  I nodded. “Or one of the others. They have a few shows that are dancing competitions.”

  “You’re right. They do, and you’d be great on any of them.”

  “Thanks, Nick. You’re sweet.”

  “No, I mean it, Eden. You’re super talented. Have you ever thought about going to Hollywood and trying out for any of them?”

  “Nah. It’s just a dream. Not something I really want to pursue. I’m happy with my life. I love cheering for the Scorpions. The girls on the team are my friends, my company is here, my mom’s in Texas. I don’t really want to change any of that. I just thought while we were talking the future—that might be fun to do someday. Or not.”

  He took hold of my hips from behind. “You’re right. I think what we’ve got, right here in Texas, is pretty good.” His erection pressed against the small of my back, and a little sigh of pleasure escaped my throat.

  “I agree.”

  And before I could say another word, we were on to round two.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Nick

  I’d just come back from a run, and after downing a large glass of water, I peeled off my sweaty clothes and slipped into the shower. The warm spray beat down on my slick skin and my thoughts turned to Eden.

  I’d quickly become infatuated with her. There was nothing about the girl not to like—she was gorgeous, kind, funny, and we had a shared history that went back to the happiest time in my life. We played together as children and even though she and Dynassy had been friends, the way I remembered it, when we were young it was Eden and me who spent the most time together. Dynassy may have been there too, but all I can remember is Eden.

  Family barbecues, Fourth of Julys by the pool, trips to amusement parks where our fathers would have them shut the whole place down just for us for the day. When our fathers were alive, we had a magical childhood. I can remember trotting across a bridge in London holding hands with Eden singing about London Bridge falling down, Dynassy running along behind, trying to catch up. My mother pushing the twins in a double stroller. Our dads knocking back brews at a local pub while we ordered room service and jumped on hotel beds, having pillow fights until our mothers put a stop to it. We’d gone to Italy together. I remember my dad loved to tell the story about the time in Pisa when they served him a pizza and cracked an egg on top of it at the table. We’d never seen anything like that before, and it made us kids giggle for days. We thought that was hilarious.

  As much as I was enjoying my time with Eden, I was glad cheerleading kept her busy. The few times I tried to date a girl since I’d become a professional basketball player, my schedule had become a problem. My job required me to be on the road a lot, and if the girl didn't have her own life to occupy her, she was going to get more and more upset, more and more needy, and that never worked. The average pro basketball career is five years long, but I plan to last longer than that, and I’m determined to make the most of it.

  This year my goal was to win the championship. I was finally on a team where that was possible, and I was ready to make my mark and get that ring. Be my own man. My mother had been running my career from the beginning, negotiating my first contract and every one since. But this last trade really pissed me off, because I felt like she went behind my back to get it done, and I was about ready to start interviewing other agents.

  I'd already put my foot down about the crew of her reality show videotaping me. Fortunately, the Athletics said no to them taping any practices or games for behind-the-scenes footage. That gave me a firm position to tell her no. The film crew had been at my party where I reconnected with Eden, but that was mostly because they follow Dynassy everywhere she goes. The show was good enough with Dynassy and my twin brother and sister. My mother ran all of their careers and for the most part she did a good job, but there was something to be said for not doing business with family. Lucinda had a tendency to overstep her boundaries, and I was looking to exist completely outside the Barnes’ orbit.

  I lathered up my body, head to toe, then rinsed everything off.

  It was bad enough being born in the shadow of Ziggy Barnes. I wondered all the time if things would have been different if my father hadn’t left us. There was something so tragic about the plane crash that he and Eden's father died in, that people tended to idolize him and instead of remembering him for the great musician he was, they revered him as something of an icon, like Elvis or Marilyn Monroe. Ironically, Eden’s father was rarely mentioned, though my father always said Eden's father was the real genius behind their music, but Ray Evans had been a quiet man, content to stay in the background. Ziggy had been the front man, the wild man with the personality bigger than Texas where he came from.

  I wanted to ask Eden if it bothered her that most of the attention and accolades went to Ziggy rather than her dad, but maybe that wasn't something you should ask the person you just started dating.

  I stepped out of the shower, dried myself off, and secured the towel around my waist. On my way to the bedroom, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the bathroom mirror. A couple of bruises on my hip stared back at me. The purplish-blue one had come from the elbow of an opposing player during our home game the night before, the other one was more yellowed in color. I’d gotten that one when I crashed to the floor two
nights ago in Milwaukee. That had hurt like a son of a bitch. When I went up for a dunk, the defender knocked my legs out from under me, and there was nothing but air to break my fall from about eight feet in the air except that hip. I’d laid on the court for a couple of minutes, trying to gather myself and assess the damage. Fortunately, it was just a deep bruise, and I was able to get back up and keep on playing.

  Anyone who didn’t think basketball was a contact sport hadn’t been around it very long. Some of the worst injuries I’d ever seen happened on the hardwood. But I was fine, and I intended to stay healthy. I made a mental note to take some of that roll-on anti-inflammatory with me on our next road trip. Ivy had been telling me about these herbal, all natural treatments and she finally sent me a bottle of it last week. She’d sworn up and down it would be better for me than any of the over-the-counter medications I could find. I’d bring that too, give it a try. What could it hurt?

  I was just pulling on my jeans when my phone started ringing with wicked witch music from The Wizard of Oz. It was Lucinda.

  Reluctantly, I picked up the phone. “Yes?"

  "Nick, it's your mother."

  "Yeah, I can see that. You do realize that your picture comes up on my phone when you call me don't you?"

  "That's just what you say, Nick. It's called manners, common courtesy. When somebody answers the phone, they're supposed to say hello, and then you say hello and identify yourself. It's polite. It's a thing. You kids and these stupid phones. Nobody knows how to talk to anyone anymore. You’re all with the texting."

  I sighed. "What can I do for you?"

  "Well for starters you could sound a little more excited to hear from your mother. But short of that I'd like to see you execute your blocks better. You do realize you’re mistiming your elevation, don’t you?"

  I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose right between my eyes, where the pain had all of a sudden begun. "Are you talking about last night's game?"

  "What else? Or did you do that against the Tigers the other night in Milwaukee as well?" I inhaled deeply and tried to center myself before exhaling. It had taken me a good bit of practice over the years to learn to respond to my mother's criticism without losing my temper.

  To her credit, she did know a lot about basketball. She had been taking me to games and practices since I was four years old. And without a dad around to coach me and give me tips, my mother took it upon herself to learn everything she could about basketball. She hired me the best trainers, sent me to basketball camps, and even acted as team mom a couple of times. And she firmly believed this earned her the right to tell me all about my mistakes, and she was probably right. The bitch of the thing was—she was usually spot on in her observations. As much as her carping advice bothered me, she knew what she was talking about.

  "And you gotta stay out of foul trouble. You know that every time you do that and mistime your jump, you're gonna get called."

  "Yes, Mom. I know"

  "You’ve got the Devils this weekend. I was thinking about bringing Ivy and coming to the game."

  Was this a ploy for her reality show? To get me on the show peripherally? That part wasn't clear, but I didn't see how I could really tell her not to come. Not unless I wanted an all-out war, which I didn't. She was going to be pissed enough when I switched representation on her. Might as well enjoy the calm before the storm. "What about Leo? What's he doing this weekend?"

  "Oh, don't even get me started on your brother." But then of course she started on my brother. "That kid. He thinks he can just do anything he wants, regardless of how it affects this family."

  What had Leo done? I prayed it wasn't drugs again. We all worried Leo would be the one to follow in our father's footsteps when it came to drugs. Ziggy had a pretty serious addiction problem, and Leo had been experimenting with various substances since he was a teenager. Our mother had gotten him and Ivy involved with a television and music company when they were twelve, and the pair of them had been performing either on TV or on a stage ever since. Behind the scenes there was always talk that Leo's temperament might not be cut out for the life of a performer, but no one dared say it to Lucinda's face. She had made her children household names—superstars, and she didn't see how anybody could have a problem with that.

  "So he's gone to Mexico for the next week. Doesn't even bother to ask me what other obligations I have scheduled for him. He just gets on a plane with a couple of his buddies, and he's gone."

  "That doesn't sound cool. What about Ivy? Is she okay with that?"

  "Yes! That’s the most infuriating part, she seems eager for the break. Sometimes those two are so ungrateful…after everything I’ve given them." I pinched the bridge of my nose again. I'd heard this one only about a billion times. "Well maybe Dynassy can come. But it would be great to see Ivy. I haven't seen her in months. Let me know if you need tickets. I’ll leave some for you."

  “Covered. Also, I’ve been meaning to ask you…what is this Dynassy tells me about you and little Eden Evans?”

  I chuckled to myself thinking about Eden as little. Eden was as grown a woman as I'd ever come across, but I wasn't sure my mother was ready for that Eden. She clearly remembered the young Eden, barefoot with pigtails. "Yeah, she and I reconnected. She's a cheerleader down here for the Texas Scorpions."

  "The Scorpions? I thought you had to be a real dancer to be able to do that."

  “Mom, she is a real dancer. I think she’s been dancing for twenty years or something."

  "Yes, but isn't that like a hobby? I've heard those girls make about six hundred a year. They had a big expose on it in one of my magazines last year."

  "Yes, it's not a full-time professional career. But, remember how smart she always was? She graduated early, then went to medical school and invented some surgical device. She makes big bucks."

  “Oh."

  That seemed to shut her up.

  Lucinda was going to be a challenge for any woman in my life, but I hoped if anybody could handle her it would be Eden.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Eden

  Soon after the night I spent with Nick he sent me a pair of tickets to his next game. I invited my friend and fellow cheerleader Paige to go with me because I knew she was a big basketball fan. Our seats were third row on the floor, not far from the bench. In fact, I was probably about twenty feet from some of the players. I'd never been to a game where I sat this close. Usually I sat in the nosebleed section when I went to events with friends. Sitting courtside, the energy crackling in the air made you almost a part of the action. Being on the field during the football games was similar—the atmosphere felt electric. It didn’t hurt that every time I looked at Nick, I got goosebumps and shivers ran down my spine as I recalled our night together. Before the start of the game he’d looked over at me and winked, which practically made my heart stop.

  Paige nudged me in the ribs. "I can't believe you're dating Nick Barnes."

  "I'm not sure we’re dating." But I couldn't believe it either. The rest of the game, Nick forgot all about me and focused on the game. The fans loved him, and he put on a show just like he did most nights—crazy passes, incredible ball handling, several three-pointers, and a few dunks that brought the crowd to their feet. He and his teammate Legion were a force to be reckoned with. Though I did notice his other teammate, Froggy Jones, yelled at him a lot, and I made a note to ask Nick what that guy’s beef was with him.

  I loved every minute of the game—the squeak of the shoes on the court, the bouncing of the ball, the whistles from the refs. The fast pace of the game had my adrenaline flowing. It was incredible to see them play up close. The players were so much bigger in real life, and they seemed more human than they did on television. The action was so close to us that when one of the centers went out of bounds he fell like a tree on the people in the first row. His arms were flailing and he landed smack on top of one guy. Paige and I were lucky we just got some popcorn spilled on us.

  "I just got hit w
ith some droplets of something," Paige said. "I'm going to pretend that it was someone's drink and not droplets of sweat."

  I giggled. "At least it's exciting, right?"

  She laughed. “I guess.”

  I knew that Nick didn't have time to be paying any attention to me while he was playing, but I noticed during a time-out in the third quarter he looked up. His gaze passed over me, then returned to me, his lip curling into a quick smile. It happened so fast that I wasn't sure if I’d imagined it or not, but my heart fluttered in my chest.

  Nick had forty points in the game, and he blocked what would have been a winning shot for the other team. Instead the Austin Athletics won by a point, and the crowd rose to their feet, the building alive with excitement. Nick told us to meet him outside the locker room afterward, and he gave us instructions on how to get there. Once we made it through the maze of people to wait on the mezzanine, I couldn’t help but notice there were a dozen girls lined up waiting for the players. I wondered if some of them were wives or girlfriends of players. I hoped they weren’t all groupies, but several of them looked like they might be. They were dressed provocatively, hanging in a group twiddling on their cell phones, flirting with different guys as they came out of the locker room. I got the feeling these girls were regulars, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was their turf, not mine.

  Finally, Nick came out of the locker room smiling. He’d changed into street clothes, and he looked good. His friend Legion was with him.

  I introduced Paige to Nick and Legion.

  "Y'all want to go grab something to eat?” Nick asked.

  “Sure," I said, unable to keep the grin off my face.

  We had a lovely evening out. After dinner Legion offered to give Paige a ride home. She turned to me with a big smile that told me she was more than okay with that idea, and Nick directed to me to his car. Before he opened the door, he placed his hand on the small of my back and crushed me to him. His mouth devoured mine and I pulled him close, winding my fingers through his hair, drinking him in until he finally pulled away, leaving me breathless.