The Love Game (a Bad Boy Sports Romance) (Damaged #3)

by Emilia Beaumont

She nodded and turned back to the magazine as I grabbed the stack of plates.

  “Boy, you cooked up a storm,” Cara remarked as she entered the kitchen, baby Gwen on her hip. The six-month-old was absolutely the cutest thing on the planet. “You are now officially part of the Sunday morning brunch crew.”

  I smiled. “Hey, it’s the least I can do. You all have been wonderful.” They had been, helping me sift through the ashes of the bar to salvage what I could. There wasn’t much left. Lucia had gotten her dad, the mayor, involved and with his connections, he’d been able to find someone to help me navigate the paperwork to file an insurance claim. Now I was waiting for the final report to see exactly how much money I had left to rebuild. If I wanted to rebuild. But right then, in Lucia’s kitchen, enjoying a Sunday morning brunch with my closest friends, I knew I had to take one day at a time.

  “Wimbledon’s on,” Cara was saying as Gwen pulled on her hair. I sighed, turning away from her, my heart suddenly heavy. What she meant to say was that Damon was on TV. I hadn’t watched a single match since I’d left, not wanting to see him on the court and have my heart break all over again. He hadn’t tried to contact me since I had left, which was understandable. I’d blown it. But it also meant he was either royally pissed that I had left, or he hadn’t written my number down correctly yet again. Either way, I wasn’t going to see him again. I knew that and was desperately trying to accept it. It was hard to tell your heart what it didn’t want to hear.

  “Oh shit,” Lucia’s voice filled the room. We both looked over to see her in the doorway. “You have got to come see this. Ginny, you aren’t going to believe it.”

  I wiped my hands on the towel as we all walked into the living room. Jacob and Luke were huddled in front of the massive flat-screen TV, and my heart stopped in my chest as I saw Damon’s face frozen on the screen. He looked happy and sweaty, very sweaty, but mostly happy.

  “What is it?” Cara asked as Lucia fumbled with the remote.

  Lucia looked over at me, her eyes shining. Was she about to cry? Oh god, the pregnant women around me were going to be the death of me. “It’s literally the sweetest thing ever.”

  “Just play the damn thing, rewind it back to the segment,” Jacob piped up. Lucia fiddled with the remote and then hit play and Damon’s voice filled the air, causing my chest to tighten with hurt and longing.

  “And then there’s a special woman who’s stolen my heart. She has the most unbelievable faith in me, and I honestly can’t live without her.”

  “Are you telling us that you, the bad boy of tennis, have settled down?”

  “I have, in a way. It’s amazing how love just punches you in the gut when you least expect it. My sweet Gin, I couldn’t have done it without you. I love you.”

  “Oh my god,” Cara breathed, looking at me. “He’s talking about you.”

  I felt the sudden rush of love for Damon as his words sank in. He loved me. He’d said the words. Hell, he had just told the entire world that he loved me. Unless he’d fallen for another woman out there with the nickname of Gin.

  “Why can’t you do something like that for me?” Lucia was asking her husband, furiously wiping at the tears on her face. “I mean, that was amazing.”

  Jacob frowned at his wife. “I proposed to you on the field after winning a game. Do you not remember that at all?”

  “Shh, you two!” Cara interjected, bouncing on her heels. “Damon Holden is in love with our Ginny here. We have to figure out how to get them together.”

  Despite what I felt on the inside, I forced myself to hold up my hand. “No, we don’t.”

  “Are you crazy?” Lucia asked, her momentary fight with her husband forgotten. “Did you not hear what he said?”

  I swallowed hard, my heart aching. Just because he’d said the words didn’t mean that I could have him. I couldn’t. Our lives were so different. We couldn’t be together. We were like oil and water. “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right, we don’t,” Cara answered, handing Gwen to Luke before walking over to me, determined to knock some sense into me. “Ginny, this man is in love with you, and I would bet Luke’s paycheck that you feel the same. Why are you pretending otherwise?”

  “I’m pretending? But we can’t be together!” I exploded, frustration, sadness, and despair escaping. I’d been like a bottle of cola, shaken up violently and ready to explode. It was all coming out now. “I have responsibilities. I have a bar to rebuild. I have my mother to take care of. I don’t have time for him or that kind of life. It’s not for me!”

  The room fell silent as I looked at my friends, wishing they could understand what I was going through. They were perfect, settled in their enviable lives, and I couldn’t have that, no matter how much I wanted to. My mom was priority number one and always would be. My brother certainly wasn’t going to look after her, so that left me. And I was going to be there for the rest of her years.

  The sound of shattering glass sliced through the air, and I raced to the kitchen. My mom stood in a puddle of juice and glass shards. “What happened?” I asked gently, not letting her see my alarm.

  “I just don’t know,” she said, surveying the damage around her. I sighed and knelt down, wiping the glass away from her feet so she could walk out of the puddle. “It’s OK, Mom. Accidents happen.”

  “Well, I think someone knocked it out of my hand, that’s what they did,” she said as Cara and Lucia appeared in the doorway.

  “Come on, Mrs. Doran,” Lucia said, helping the older woman to the door. “Let go play with the kids.”

  I didn’t hear Mom’s response, but I uttered thanks to Lucia. On my knees, I kept my head bowed and cleaned up the mess through a haze of tears. This was why I couldn’t have a normal life. Damon might love me in Europe, where I had no responsibilities, but he had no idea about this side of my life. I wouldn’t want him to know. My mom wasn’t going anywhere, and I was responsible for her care. That would be a hard pill for any man to swallow. He would have to play second fiddle, and Damon definitely wasn’t the type to be relegated to the background.

  “Ginny, you deserve that kind of life,” Cara said quietly as I picked up the shards of glass and dumped them in the trash. “What makes you think you don’t?”

  “I don’t know how many times I have to explain it to you all. My mom depends on me,” I forced out, looking at her being guided away into the den. “This is my life, and no amount of well-wishing will turn it into a fairytale, OK? Not everyone can be as lucky as you or Lucia, and I accept that.”

  Cara gripped my arm, compassion in her eyes. “My life isn’t all about fairy tales. You might have your mom, but you know what I went through when I gave up my son. I know it’s not the same, but out of all of us here, I understand what you are going through.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t.”

  Cara nodded, dropping her touch. “I get that you want to do what’s best, but sometimes doing what’s best isn’t the right move. Just please don’t let this life get in the way of your future, Ginny. I really think you should at least contact him. Give him some credit. Give him a chance. He might surprise you.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said. Anything to get me out of this conversation.

  “Good. I’ll go get the mop.” She then walked out of the kitchen, leaving me to stare at the runny puddle of juice on the floor. What would he say if he knew about my mom? Would he accept the fact that I was hooked into this life until she died? Or would he see it as a burden he wasn’t willing to take on?

  22

  Damon

  “Damon! Over here!”

  I gave a little wave as I climbed into the private car, grateful that the windows were tinted as it pulled away from the curb. I had been in the States only two days, but the media had already found out my every move, pestering me with questions of who my mystery woman was. Not only the media, but women I’d never met had started coming out in droves. Some claimed to
be the mystery woman in question, others were just fans holding signs depicting wedding bells everywhere I went. It was hilarious that spilling my guts in an interview had gotten me more publicity than any of my bad boy antics.

  I sighed and leaned back on the seat, watching as the scenery passed. I was in New York for my parents’ engagement party that evening. Mom had decided to scrap the party in London and move it to the Upper East Side due to my father’s inability to travel for a long period of time. My mom had called to let me in on the change, and I’d been as polite as I could. After all, I had promised my dad I would. But once she started asking about the mystery woman everyone was talking about, I promptly hung up the phone. I couldn’t deal with her questions, too.

  Even after the public declaration, I heard nothing from Ginny. It was disheartening. I’d thought something like that would have been enough to draw her out, to have her in my arms, but apparently not. She obviously wanted nothing to do with me. Our time together, I was beginning to think, had been an illusion. I’d made her up. The car slowed down and then stopped, the door opening before Jim slid in, dressed in a tuxedo like I was. “Hey,” he said as the door closed, and we were on our way once more. “Thanks for picking me up.”

  “Sure,” I said, wiping my palms on my pants. “Thanks for being my plus one.”

  Jim’s expression turned sympathetic. “Still no word?”

  I shook my head, feeling that familiar pain in my chest. “Nothing. I just don’t understand.”

  “Hey, I know you don’t want to hear this,” he said, “but maybe it’s for the best. I mean you have thousands of girls wanting to be your special girl now. You shouldn’t have any problems moving on.”

  I cleared my throat, not wanting to show emotion in front of my agent. I didn’t want just anyone. I wanted Ginny. “I need to hire someone,” I finally said, looking at him. “I need a private investigator.”

  “Oh shit,” Jim said, shaking his head. “You want to go to those lengths? It could be such a bad idea.”

  I had to know why she wasn’t interested anymore. I wasn’t going to rest until I had an answer, no matter how painful it was. Shaking my head. “I have to have some closure.” It hurt me to think that she could be out there, in trouble, or worse, and that she didn’t think she could trust me enough to tell me. If there was another guy, I would deal with that. I’d fight for her and make her mine. But I doubted that was the case. The way we’d made love, the way she only had eyes for me while we were together, told me there wasn’t someone else in her life like that. But clearly there was something that kept her at arm’s length from me.

  “All right fine,” Jim said, holding up his hand. “But if I get you one, and if they find nothing, you have to give this up. We cannot have it messing up the remainder of the year. You’ve come too far to allow that to happen.”

  “Agreed,” I answered. I could live with that. I was going to have to live with that. Jim was right, I needed to get my head in the game, and I had a couple of weeks before I would have to do so. If I was going to find Ginny, I needed to do it quickly. I needed her for the Grand Slam at the end of the month.

  “You know, Damon,” Jim started, giving me a slight smile, “I never thought I would see you go down so hard over a woman who keeps on disappearing on you. Of all the women who could do this to you, it had to be the one who doesn’t want to be found.”

  I grinned. “Sod’s law, I guess. Maybe I had it coming?” Ginny was special, and somehow I’d squandered the opportunity to be with her. She was different, and I needed her. Hell, the thought of giving up my career to be with her crossed my mind. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but that was how fucked up I felt.

  “You think karma is doing this to you?”

  “Stranger things have happened.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Plus karma is a bitch.”

  “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

  Jim smiled. It was more of a wince, really. We sat in silence the rest of the way to the party. The car slowed again, and I straightened my suit jacket. For the first time in a very long while I was going to see my parents together again, like the old days. It was going to be a bizarre night, that was for sure. The door opened and I stepped out, Jim right behind me as we walked up to the monstrous brick structure, red carpet leading the way up the stairs. I showed the man at the door my invitation before we were admitted. We made it inside the function room, following other guests. It was a vision of white and blue, my dad’s favorite colors, decked out with typical wedding engagement touches—large tables draped with pristine tablecloths, topped with white flowers in vases big enough to obscure your view. The chairs were wrapped in blue silk, with bows tied behind their backs. And there were twinkling lights everywhere, combating for attention against the multiple chandeliers. My mom, and no doubt whoever she’d hired to organize and decorate the space, had done themselves proud.

  “Damon. You made it.”

  Maddy appeared in front of me, dressed in a sleek royal blue dress, her eye flitting over Jim with interest before settling on me.

  “Hey you,” I said and gave her a swift hug and kiss on the cheek. “Maddy, this is Jim, my agent. Jim, this is my sister.”

  “I didn’t know you had a sister,” Jim said, giving Maddy a nod. I didn’t like the way my younger sister was looking at my agent, like he was some kind of wonderful male specimen. When had she grown up? To me she would always be the young girl in pigtails, chasing after my tennis balls when I’d practice.

  “Hello? I’m over here,” I said, waving my hand in front of her face. She turned her attention back to me, two small circles the size of dimes spreading over her cheeks. “Yeah, hello. Well, where’s Ginny? I saw your declaration. Very romantic. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “She’s not here,” I forced out, my voice rougher than I’d intended. Her eyes widened, but she wisely kept her mouth shut, instead stepping aside. “Mom and Clark are in there, having photos taken. They’re going to be excited to see you.”

  I nodded at Jim and walked farther into the room, already filled with a mass of people that I didn’t know. It was easy to spot the couple, surrounded by a crowd of guests near the band. I had to admit, they looked good together. My mom was in a short dress that was actually age-appropriate for a change, and my dad was in a tux, his face a lot healthier than it had been of late. Many people, including my mom and Jim, didn’t know that I made regular trips to visit my dad at the treatment facility where he was getting his chemo, spending hours at his bedside, reliving the old days, and watching old western movies that he loved. It gave us time together that I was grateful for, especially without the glare of the cameras that seemed to always be at my side.

  “Damon!” my mom exclaimed as I approached them, her eyes shining. “You made it!”

  “I did,” I said, allowing her to hug me. Her expensive perfume enveloped me as she wrapped her arms around me. “You look beautiful.”

  She reared back, her mouth widening in surprise before tears glimmered in her eyes. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  I shrugged and smiled, then cleared my throat as my dad came over to join us. He shook my hand firmly before grabbing me around the shoulders pulling me into a hug, too. “It’s good to see you, son,” he said, clapping me on the back.

  “You too, Dad,” I said, my words choked with emotion. He laughed and steered me away from the crowd, heading toward the bar. In a low voice he asked, “So, have you not found her yet?”

  I sighed, my never-ending conversations about Ginny like a cut that was continually pulled open, exposing the wound. But he knew what was what. During our visits, I’d told him all about her, everything that happened in Paris and London. “No, not yet.”

  “Don’t give up, Damon. I didn’t give up on your mom.”

  I ran a hand over my hair nervously. “I think I’ve lost her forever.”

  My dad burst out into laughter. “Lost her?”

  “I’m
hiring a private investigator to find her.”

  “Good. I’m glad you’re not giving up,” he remarked. “But you think she’s worth all this trouble? You are a famous tennis player. Any woman would give you the time of day, except this one I guess.”

  “You know she is,” I said, no doubt in my mind about it. Ginny was the woman for me. She was down-to-earth and real. I would never have to worry about where I stood with her or if she was faking her feelings. Ginny wore her heart on her sleeve, and that was one of the many reasons I loved her.

  My dad looked at me for a moment before clapping me on the back. “A father has to make sure of these things. Let me know if I can help. We’ll find your girl one way or the other.”

  23

  Ginny

  “I don’t know why you have to be so stubborn about this. Lucia has plenty of room for you and your mom to stay until you are back on your feet. And we do, too, if you fancy a chance of scenery.”

  I slid open the storage unit door, surveying the jumbled mess that my brother had made while I was away. I looked at Cara. “We need our own place. It’s going to happen eventually. I love you both for offering and putting up with me, but it’s time.”

  Cara sighed and stepped into the unit, leaving me to follow behind. After a few weeks in Jacob and Lucia’s house, I was ready to find my own place and get my life and my mom’s back on track. While I appreciated the overwhelming support they had offered, it was time to be proactive and face the situation. I was a twenty-something woman, with no job, no home, and practically no prospects until the insurance money came in. So instead of sitting on the couch watching daytime soaps and playing with Lucia’s rug-rats, I’d come to the storage unit. I needed to take an inventory and figure out what we had and what we didn’t have. Luckily there was a fair bit of furniture in there from the old house. I’d stored it for my mother’s sake as well as my own; neither of us had wanted to part with the pieces that reminded us of the family home when Dad had been alive. And considering we had lost everything else in the fire, it was a stroke of luck. At least we wouldn’t be starting completely from scratch.