Playing for the Save (Men of Spring Baseball Book 3)

by Rachelle Ayala

  It had seemed like a bright idea only the day before, but now, with all the fans staring at her entourage, she wasn’t so sure. It was only a matter of time before the cameras picked up on her, and her image showed up on the Jumbotron.

  This was unorthodox, but then, Ryan deserved a big, huge surprise. Everything had worked out for both of them in the months since spring training.

  Andrew was sentenced to fifteen years in prison for throwing Drew off the bleachers. Ryan won big in his defamation lawsuit against Andrew and cleaned out his bank account. Now, all of Andrew’s money could be used for Ben and Drew’s education. Even better, in exchange for allowing Andrew’s parents visitation rights with Ben and Drew, Andrew had signed away his parental rights, leaving the way clear for Ryan to adopt both boys.

  Meanwhile, Alyssa ended up in therapy where she discovered how she’d been manipulated into believing every bad thing Andrew had said about Jamie. She told everyone she had begun to realize the cracks in Andrew’s story when she overheard him gloating about the false molestation charges he would use to take Ryan down. Thankfully, she’d testified against Andrew to the full extent of the law and also filed for divorce.

  Now, it was Jamie and Ryan’s big day, although he didn’t know it yet. With Marcia holding the train of her wedding gown, Jamie weaved her way down the steps and through the gate onto the playing field.

  “Mommy, Ryan sees us,” Ben shouted, pointing to the Jumbotron showing Ryan with his mouth wide open, gaping at them.

  Jamie couldn’t stare at it, or she’d fall flat on her face. It wasn’t easy stepping through the infield even though she was wearing white leather boots. Thankfully, her two little groomsmen had more poise than she, as they marched straight and tall toward the pitcher’s mound.

  Timmy’s father jogged up to them with Hershey on a leash. He gave the leash to Drew and a pillow with rings to Ben. The puppy skipped and frolicked, tangling circles around Drew who spun around with him, laughing hysterically. One thing about Drew, he was a happy kid for the most part, and Hershey had become his most faithful companion.

  Ryan’s teammates opened a pathway for them, everyone smiling and taking off their caps.

  “Jamie!” Ryan’s entire face exploded with shock. “What are you doing?”

  For a moment, she panicked. What if he was upset at her for springing this surprise on him? What if she was embarrassing him?

  But her fears were allayed as he rushed to hug her.

  “Is this what I think it is?” he asked, his grin splitting his face with happiness. He leaned in and almost kissed her, but was stopped by the justice of peace.

  “No kissing the bride until after you say your vows,” he said in a booming voice, repositioning Ryan back onto the pitcher’s rubber where their vows would be exchanged.

  “This is some surprise,” Ryan said, eagerly grasping Jamie’s hands as she handed her bridal bouquet to Marcia. “I do. I do. I do. Now can I kiss the bride?”

  And he did, lifting her up and twirling her around and around.

  He never did like to wait. To him, time was all bunched together, so Jamie kissed her hero and her time became his time, knotted together into one crazy, jumbled, and tangled journey with no beginning and no end.

  Thank you so much for reading Playing for the Save. Please consider leaving a review to share your thoughts and feelings with other readers. Look for other Men of Spring Baseball titles featuring the men of the Rattlers baseball team and the women who love them.

  Please turn the page to read a few excerpts.

  PLAYING WITHOUT RULES - EXCERPT

  If you’re interested in Brock and Marcia’s story, check out Playing Without Rules.

  Playing Without Rules – Excerpt

  Copyright 2015 © Rachelle Ayala

  Description

  A ballplayer’s girlfriend hides his daughter from him because she fears he’s like his abusive father.

  Marcia Powers wants nothing to do with ballplayer Brock Carter, especially after she told him to go away and pursue his dreams. She has more than she can handle with an elderly father, a business to run, and a four-year-old daughter posing as her baby sister.

  Brock Carter’s back in town to rekindle his romance with Marcia, and this time, he’s not letting her run him out of town. Marcia is unable to resist Brock, but determined to keep her secret.

  Brock’s already lost his heart to Marcia once. Will he lose every dream, including baseball, when he discovers the real reason Marcia sent him away?

  “The thing about ballplayers is they’re players.” Marcia Powers twisted the stem of a maraschino cherry around the tip of her tongue and eyed the swaggering baseball players descending on her bar, The Hot Corner, in metropolitan Phoenix.

  “You should be thankful for spring training.” Her business partner and best girlfriend, Jeanine Jewell, adjusted her stance at the counter to best position her bounteous breasts. “Keeps the tab rolling and the money flowing.”

  “Not to mention the groupie traffic.” Marcia sniffed, but cleared her face in time to smile and take orders from the men in business suits idling at the bar. Their attention was split between the ballplayers and the women. Probably scouts sizing up players for pre-season trades.

  The traffic was definitely good for business and made up for the dry times. Phoenix was the spring training home to fifteen off-season baseball teams. It hadn’t always been this way, but the dry spring weather and lower real estate costs than California made Arizona attractive enough to draw the franchises as well as provide affordable games for locals and tourists alike.

  Marcia passed a tray of girlie cocktails to Jeanine who sashayed past the businessmen to the booth bubbling over with blondes and booze. Jeanine, ever the flirt, bent low in front of the players’ roving eyes. Leers from the men and sneers from the babes followed in her wake.

  Jeanine would have her fill until the ballplayers moved back to their major league cities, collecting one-night stands like baseball cards. Somehow, she was impervious to being hurt. From the moment the umpire yelled, “Play Ball!” in the opening game to the closing fireworks show signifying the end of spring training, Jeanine played: infielders, outfielders, pitch and catch with an occasional trainer or coach thrown in for good measure.

  “So, who’s in your field of dreams?” A deep, throaty voice drawled so close to Marcia’s ear she almost dropped the whiskey tumbler she was polishing.

  Her breath hitched as she jerked around in time to see Brock Carter’s leer dissolve into a grin. “What the hell are you doing sneaking up on me?”

  “Ordering a drink, and it’s good to see you again.”

  It definitely wasn’t good seeing him—a troublemaker and heartbreaker—especially since the heart he’d trampled on was, at this moment, beating to break out of her ribcage like an excited puppy leaping for a doggie treat.

  “I thought you were traded to the minors, what was that team again?” Marcia hoped her voice wouldn’t give away the urge she had to leap over the bar counter and either punch him in the balls or sock him one in the kisser—ruin his action for any other female stupid enough to be sucked in by those misty green bedroom eyes and smooth downhome Southern drawl.

  “Minor setback.” He cracked his knuckles and licked his lips. “But I’m back in a big way, and somehow I knew I’d catch you right here, where it all started.”

  Arrogant dick. As if he’d known she’d never leave town, never live the dreams she had years ago before her father’s retirement required her to take over the bar, never have the ideal family she’d pictured with a husband manning the BBQ and children playing in the pool.

  “Order your drink and get it over with.” She didn’t want to be rude to customers, but Brock Carter was in a different league altogether. He’d certainly filled in since he left town years ago. Sandy-colored hair poked from under his baseball cap. His freckled face was more rugged, sporting a manly cleft while his muscles strained solid under his practice jersey.
/>   Brock shifted his weight, still leaning over the counter, his forearms flexing. “Buy you a screaming orgasm.”

  Marcia swallowed as unbidden images of just how hard she and Brock had strained over and under and around the sheets threatened to undermine her outward calm.

  She desperately scanned the tables for Jeanine. Her friend would put Brock in his place—give him a polite nod before shooing him off. She knew what damage Brock had done and why Marcia could not ever let him know her secret.

  “I take that as a ‘yes.’” Brock pinched her elbow.

  Marcia jerked away from the counter as if she’d touched an electric fence. “Take your screaming whatever and drink it yourself. I’m working.”

  His bushy eyebrows lowered, Brock’s chin took that stubborn set she knew only too well. “What’s with you, Marsh? I would have thought five years was enough for you to get over whatever snit you had against me.”

  “I’ve nothing against you.” Marcia sidled around the counter to the beer taps. She wasn’t the type to hold a guy from his dreams. Since they didn’t involve her and the situation she found herself in, good riddance. She’d do it all herself, and she had.

  Marcia made eye contact with the businessmen, who obliged by ordering another round of drinks, especially since a couple of groupies had moved from the players to the suits.

  All the while, Brock remained a large, hulking shadow looming under the restroom signs. Out of the corner of her eye, Marcia saw Jeanine serve him a longneck. Minutes ticked by, but he stayed in his spot, solitary, unresponsive to any female or male brave enough to invade his territory.

  Jeanine swung behind the counter and nudged her. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Can’t you get rid of him?”

  “Tried already.” Jeanine tugged at her bra strap. “He looks pissed. Do you think?”

  A shot of panic pumped up Marcia’s pulse. Could he have found out her secret?

  “He can’t know,” Marcia said.

  “Why not?” Jeanine’s eyebrow quirked, and she put a hand on her hip. “Isn’t it about time you let him in on it?”

  “He’ll only hurt her.”

  “Maybe not. A girl needs a daddy, and your father’s too old to be a real one for her.”

  Marcia closed her eyes, breathing in and out, all too aware of the heated gaze burning into her back. “Just so you remember: Bianca is my little sister. My father is her father. I’m her aunt.”

  “So you say.” Jeanine glanced at Brock who lifted his empty bottle. “Looks like he’s not leaving until closing time. Let me find out what he’s been up to.”

  “Go ahead and play him.” Marcia huffed. “I don’t mind.”

  Jeanine primped her hair and tucked a pencil over her ear. “Game’s wide open. I’m onto it.”

  [end of excerpt]

  To read on, please pick up Playing Without Rules

  Be sure to to check out Jaden and Ella’s cosplay and soccer romance in Played by Love.

  Soccer goalkeeper, Jaden Sloup, has his eye on Ella Kennedy, a woman who won’t date jocks or frat boys. He dons a pair of nerd glasses and hugs a laptop to convince her he’s a techno geek, and she agrees to go to Las Vegas with him for a cosplay convention where his team’s playoff game happens to be.

  Jaden must juggle sizzling in the sheets with Ella against a soccer match and hanging with his frat brother teammates. When a bully harasses Ella and challenges Jaden to a fight, he proves that even a goalie can score.

  PLAYING CATCH - EXCERPT

  Be sure to catch Jeanine and Kirk’s story in Playing Catch, a heart-wrenching tale of childhood abuse and recovery.

  On the field and off the field, bartender Jeanine Jewell plays, collecting one-night stands like baseball cards. She doesn’t need a man, except to curl her toes and make her scream. She’s learned the hard way that love is about control and manipulation—and the last thing she can handle is letting herself be vulnerable, or having anyone discover her shameful secret.

  Scoring women is easy for catcher Kirk Kennedy—they don’t call him “Catch and Release” for nothing. He never goes back for a repeat performance. Being traded to a new city is an opportunity for new adventures—until he runs into Jeanine and she refuses to go home with him.

  Intrigued, Kirk is determined to catch the elusive blonde and keep her to himself. When he proposes a wingman to wingwoman friends without benefits relationship, he’s surprised she accepts.

  The no benefits clause soon falls by the wayside when neither Jeanine or Kirk can resist their explosive chemistry together. But despite the sparks between the sheets, they both refuse to acknowledge they’re anything more than friends.

  Everything changes when Kirk discovers his past is the one Jeanine is hiding from …

  Chapter One

  Some nights, Jeanine Jewell hated herself. Actually, make that most nights.

  Twenty-nine years old, part owner of her own business, she was single and definitely not available—at least for more than a night. Her blond hair, sky-blue eyes, and trim figure draped with designer clothing ensured her a steady supply of attractive and desirable men—the type who play, but not for keeps. Which suited her just fine and kept life exciting and fun—or so it seemed to those standing outside the closed doors.

  Jeanine pulled on her skinny jeans and tugged her tank top in place, checking her bra straps. The man she’d hooked up with was already snoring like a mad dog. He’d been hot while he kept it up, but unlike his muscles and studly physique, he and that thing between his legs ran out of steam shortly after crossing home plate.

  Jeanine plucked the baseball card from the nightstand. Sam Forster, first baseman for the New York Minutes, an expansion team who had to winter out west in Arizona instead of Florida where other east coast teams trained.

  She snickered. It was no wonder they called them Minutemen, because one thing was for sure, he’d been fast. She pulled out a black leather notebook. After sliding in the baseball card, she wrote his name, dated it, and scored him. A nine in looks, but a four in bed, and that was being generous.

  The hotel he stayed at was five star. His tousled dark brown hair over a chiseled Hollywood handsome face was a heartbreaker. But when it came to performance, Jeanine wondered if she’d be better off testing sex toys.

  Except she had an image to keep up, and no one could ever know that she didn’t like sex.

  Because she did. Right? Loved it and had the little black book to prove it.

  After scanning the upscale room to make sure she hadn’t left anything, Jeanine quietly let herself out. Sam would probably wonder where she went, but maybe not. She never spent the night. Ever.

  Let other women whine and moan for cuddling, or wish for after-sex conversation. Jeanine wasn’t made that way. Once the deed was done, her interest level dropped faster than a wrecking ball over a graveyard. Her main goal was to get away, to never look the guy in the eye again, to shield herself from the fake promises to call or the general awkwardness of a sober morning after once the intoxicating hormones of sex and power had dissipated.

  It was a little after one in the morning, and the plush burgundy carpeted corridor appeared empty. Jeanine strode briskly toward the elevator. As she turned the corner, a man came out of another hotel room and shut the door slowly so that the lock barely clicked.

  Holy hot tomato. Jeanine’s breath caught in her throat.

  He was a hunk in tight stretched pants that outlined his fine ass and muscular thighs, and the build? Over six feet tall and broad shouldered without an inch of fat to soften the chiseled marble of his physique.

  He ran his sturdy hand over his dirty blond hair, smoothing it back and put on a baseball cap. Rattlers, the hometown team, who’d beaten the Minutemen in tonight’s first spring training game.

  Jeanine swallowed her drool, considering. Perhaps this Rattler would rattle her cage and make her scream longer than a minute. But then, even she had standards, and sleeping with another man so soon af
ter her rather forgettable encounter was gross.

  “Calling it a night?” She asked, since there was no way to avoid him. She owned the Hot Corner Bar and Grill where many of the Rattlers hung out at, but she’d never met this ballplayer before. Even doing his walk of shame, he looked fresh and peppy.

  His too gorgeous blue eyes raked her with a spark of reignited heat. Oh yes, he knew exactly what she was doing skulking down the corridor of a five-star hotel shortly after midnight. Her makeup was off, hair rumpled, and despite smoothing her tank and draping it with a well-worn chambray shirt, she still had that freshly romped look.

  But then, it was obvious what he’d been up to. Covering his bed head with a baseball cap? His white shirt was not buttoned correctly and one tail was tucked into his slacks while the other hung out, as if he was advertising what he’d been doing. A buttery, leather jacket was slung over his shoulder, and if it hadn’t been for the misbuttoned shirt, he could have stepped out of a magazine ad for fine men’s wear.

  His lip twisted with a confident smirk, he extended his hand for a shake. “Care for a nightcap downstairs?”

  Yowza, was he fast. But then, her quickie had left her with plenty of time to kill. One in the morning was still early for a bartender. It was her night off, and she could definitely go a second round—at the bar.

  “Why not?” She shook his warm, firm hand, noting the well muscled forearm. Yep. Definitely a ballplayer. “How about we hop back to The Hot Corner? I’m Jeanine, the owner, and I haven’t seen you around.”

  “That’s where my new teammates hang out. Kirk Kennedy, catcher. Just got traded to the Rattlers.”

  “Ah, I figured you’re new in town. You know Brock Carter? Ryan Hudson?”

  “Yep, but I don’t hunt where my teammates hang, if you know what I mean.” Again, he seared her with those clear blue eyes. “I know this great Mexican joint open until three. Hottest tamales in town.”