Bad Reputation

by Nicole Edwards

  For the next five minutes, I watch as we go through the process of proclaiming our love and dedication to each other. It’s obvious we’re both drunk, so it shocks me that I can see the love we have for each other as clear as I feel it today. I don’t take my eyes off the screen until it fades to black after the man announces us man and wife.

  “That kiss was puny,” Chase mutters, then looks over at me. “But I knew it couldn’t have been a real kiss.”

  Confused, I stare back at him.

  “No way would I not have remembered kissing you,” he states, as though that makes perfect sense.

  In a way, it does.

  Maggie’s right. What we have is rare and precious.

  Glancing over at Chase now, I smile and clear my throat, swallowing the tears. “Well, there’s the proof. We did it.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  I can’t tell what he’s hoping I’ll say. But when it comes to Chase, I don’t want to lie to him. He’s my best friend. Plus, he’s the man I’m completely head over heels in love with.

  My voice is thick with emotion when I give him a watery smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  He wraps his arms around me and I do the same. It doesn’t last nearly long enough before Chase is launching himself off the couch, making me stumble back in his haste.

  “Hold that thought.”

  “Where are you going?” I watch as he disappears into his bedroom.

  He returns a second later, then resumes his position on the sofa. He pulls me to him again and I snuggle against his side. When I’m comfortable, he holds out his hand. “Let me see your hand.”

  “What? Why?” I give him my left hand, since it’s the one not squished against his body.

  He takes it, blocking my view with his arm. I feel something on my finger and my breath lodges in my throat.

  “What did you do?” I ask, my voice water. Yes, I’m going to cry.

  When he lets go of my hand, I see the giant diamond glittering on my ring finger and the tears come. Thankfully, I’m not a blubbering mess; they simply drip down my face.

  “I’ll give you a big wedding if you’d like,” he whispers softly.

  I shake my head, but it’s limited because I’m pressed against him. “No. No more weddings. I’m content with that one.” I pull back. “Plus, we have a video to prove that it happened.”

  “So, you still don’t remember it?” He’s studying my face intently, so I wipe my tears away with my palm.

  Then I smile. “Maybe some.” I chuckle. “Okay, yes. I remember it.”

  His eyes widen. “How long have you been holding out on me, Barrett?”

  The warmth that I feel when he calls me that starts in my belly and radiates out in all directions. Still I laugh. “Eh. A few days, maybe.” I giggle. “A week, tops.”

  His shocked expression is mostly for effect. At least I think so.

  However, my shocked expression when he grabs me and tosses me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry is not feigned in any way. Pounding on his back with my fists, I insist that he put me down.

  “Don’t you dare put me in the pool, Chase!” I grip the waistband of his jeans and twist my fingers into the belt loops. “If I go in, you go in. Don’t you dare.”

  To my relief, he puts me on my feet. I know we’re close to the pool, I just don’t know how close.

  Unfortunately, I find out.

  Because the man of my dreams, the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with…

  Yeah. He pushes me in.

  But it’s not all bad, because he follows me.

  And I know from experience what’s going to happen next.

  Epilogue

  Chase

  ELEVEN MONTHS LATER

  “Barrett!”

  I hear someone shouting, but I have no idea who it is or what they want. Considering the locker room is a fucking madhouse right now, it’s a wonder I can hear anything.

  It’s okay though. We’re allowed to go fucking crazy because we just won the Stanley Cup. No fucking lie.

  We.

  Fucking.

  Did.

  It.

  “Barrett! Where the hell are you?”

  I lift my hand in the air, still unsure who’s calling my name. I’m surrounded by my teammates, so it could be anyone.

  Finally, Coach appears in front of me, his eyes wide. He’s even out of breath. I’m not exactly sure what he’s tracking me down for.

  “God damn it, Barrett,” he grumbles as he tries to catch his breath. “You need to call your wife.”

  I do need to call Cassie. I want to hear her voice right now because we…yeah, you know what we just did.

  “Okay,” I tell him, turning toward my locker.

  “Right now, Barrett.”

  I pivot back around to look at Coach, wondering why he’s acting so weird, why his tone is so firm.

  He takes a deep breath and that’s when I notice that several of the guys have stopped celebrating and have turned their attention to me.

  “I’m trying,” I tell him. “I have to get my phone.”

  He shoves his phone at me.

  I glance at it, then up at him.

  “She’s in labor, you idiot.”

  I drop the phone.

  Good thing it’s not mine.

  “She’s what?” Thrusting my hand in my hair, I spin around, trying to figure out what I need to do first. I haven’t had a shower and I smell ripe. No way can I go to the hospital like this. “Holy fucking shit. Is Natalie with her? Please tell me Natalie’s with her. Fuck! Shit.”

  Apparently my vocabulary has been limited to a handful of swear words and not much else.

  Coach’s hand firmly grips my shoulder and he turns me toward the door. “No time to waste. You can shower later.”

  The man obviously reads minds, although I’m not sure the hospital staff is going to be too happy about that.

  “Marcom! Get your ass over here and take this man to the hospital!”

  “Right here,” Marky Mark declares. “Ready and at your service.”

  “Just get him there,” Coach instructs. “And don’t waste any fucking time.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Forty-five minutes later, I’m being directed into the labor and delivery room to find my beautiful wife going through her breathing techniques while Natalie stands beside her.

  “Chase.” The smile that lifts her lips is one I’ll never forget. She looks so relieved to see me.

  “Hey, baby.” Instantly I’m at her side, leaning over and kissing her forehead, brushing her hair back from her face. “How’re you doing?”

  She gives me a look that says I really shouldn’t ask. When I link my fingers with hers, she gives me a gentle squeeze. “You won.”

  I nod.

  “And you’re here,” she repeats.

  She’s sweating and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, but there are stray strands everywhere. It’s clear she’s in some pain, but I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. All those labor classes and books I’ve been reading have done nothing to prepare me for this. I’m not sure I’ve retained any of the information.

  “You stink,” Natalie says, grinning. “And that’s my cue to go out and find my man.”

  “He stinks, too,” I inform her.

  “Yeah, well. There are worse things.”

  I’m not so sure about that. If you’ve never smelled a hockey player after a game, it’s certainly not for the faint of heart.

  “It’s hard to believe they’re getting married in three months,” I say to Cassie as Natalie slips out of the room.

  Her blue-gray eyes meet mine. “I just better fit in my dress by then.”

  I can hear the warning in her words, but I choose not to respond. I’m sure she’ll be back to fighting weight in no time. And if not…well, to quote Natalie: “There are worse things.”

  Cassie’s fingers tighten around my hand and I cut my eyes to her. H
er face scrunches up and she’s breathing hard. As though they know—which it’s quite possible they do—in walks a nurse with a smile on her face.

  “The doctor’s back, Cassie. And it looks like she’s right on time.”

  Watching the nurse closely, I’m trying to translate what that means.

  “I need to push,” Cassie notes, her voice rough.

  “Not yet.” The nurse’s calm tone does nothing to stop Cassie from panting harder.

  God bless, I’m just grateful I’m not the one having to push that baby out. I’ve taken plenty of hits, broken a few bones, but based on the tension around Cassie’s eyes, I haven’t known pain the likes of which she’s going through right now.

  Because I have no clue what to do and I damn sure don’t want to do the wrong thing, I remain right where I am, holding my wife’s hand and waiting.

  A good twenty minutes pass while the room erupts in pure chaos. The good kind, evidently. The kind that involves a doctor instructing Cassie to push, a baby being expelled, nurses jumping into action and then finally…finally, our son is laid upon Cassie’s chest.

  It’s then that I cry.

  I can’t help it.

  I don’t try to stop it or hide it.

  Sure, my team won the fucking Stanley Cup today, but let me tell you, that has nothing on this.

  It was only right that I got a follow-up interview with Chase Barrett. After all, the Texas Tornadoes did win the Stanley Cup. During our pre-interview conversation, I learned that wasn’t the only thing that’s changed for Chase.

  “So, if I were to ask you any of the questions from our previous interview, I’m guessing the answers might not be the same.”

  “No, probably not.” The man’s smile could likely be seen from space.

  “Well, I won’t put you through that, but I will ask you what it was like to win the Stanley Cup. How did you feel that day?”

  The look he gave me caught me by surprise. I’ve seen it before on plenty of athletes’ faces when asked about winning a championship. However, Chase’s answer was vastly different than any I’d received before.

  “It was perfect. I didn’t think anything in the world could feel better than winning the Cup, but that day I learned I was wrong.”

  “How so?”

  “That was the day my son, Nathan James, was born.” His pride radiated from his pores. “Two weeks early, weighing in at a whopping nine pounds, four ounces, twenty-three inches long.”

  Ah. Well, it looks as though Chase Barrett had a day for the record books. And, for all the ladies out there, I think it’s safe to say that Chase Barrett won’t make it into Sports Unlimited’s Sexy Bachelor edition. And I don’t think you’ll ever hear him complain about it either.

  —Excerpt from Sports Unlimited’s “Following Up with the Bad Boys”

  To Sue Grimshaw

  Acknowledgments

  First of all, I have to say thank you to my amazing husband, who puts up with me every single day. If it wasn’t for him and his belief that I could do this, I wouldn’t be writing this today. He has been my backbone.

  Sue Grimshaw…your email honestly changed my life. Thank you for taking a chance on me. It means everything.

  I have to thank my beta readers—Chancy Powley, Amber Willis, Allison Holzapfel, and Karen DiGaetano. Ladies, I look forward to what the future has in store for us. Thank you for coming along for the ride.

  I also have to thank my street team—Naughty (and nice) Girls. Your unwavering support is something I will never take for granted. So, thank you, Traci Hyland, Maureen Ames, Cindy Rockey-Bocz, Erin Lewis, Jackie Wright, Chris Geier, Kara Hildebrand, Shannon Thompson, Tracy Barbour, Nadine Hunter, Toni Thompson, and Rachelle Newham.

  Nicole Nation 2.0 for the constant support and love. You’ve been there for me from almost the beginning. This group of ladies has kept me going for so long, I’m not sure I’d know what to do without them.

  And, of course, YOU, the reader. Your emails, messages, posts, comments, tweets…they mean more to me than you can imagine. I thrive on hearing from you. Knowing that my characters and my stories have touched you in some way keeps me going. I’ve been known to shed a tear or two when reading an email because you simply bring so much joy to my life with your support. I thank you for that.

  BY NICOLE EDWARDS

  Bad Boys of Sports:

  Bad Reputation

  Bad Business (coming soon)

  The Alluring Indulgence Series

  Kaleb

  Zane

  Travis

  Holidays with the Walker Brothers

  Ethan

  Braydon

  Sawyer

  Brendon

  The Austin Arrows Series

  The SEASON: Rush

  The SEASON: Kaufman

  The Caine Cousins Series

  Hard to Hold

  Hard to Handle

  The Club Destiny Series

  Conviction

  Temptation

  Addicted

  Seduction

  Infatuation

  Captivated

  Devotion

  Perception

  Entrusted

  Adored

  Distraction

  The Coyote Ridge Series

  Curtis

  Jared

  The Dead Heat Ranch Series

  Boots Optional

  Betting on Grace

  Overnight Love

  The Devil’s Bend Series

  Chasing Dreams

  Vanishing Dreams

  The Devil’s Playground Series

  Without Regret

  Without Restraint

  The Pier 70 Series

  Reckless

  Fearless

  Speechless

  Harmless

  The Sniper 1 Security Series

  Wait for Morning

  Never Say Never

  The Southern Boy Mafia Series

  Beautifully Brutal

  Beautifully Loyal

  Standalone Novels

  A Million Tiny Pieces

  Inked on Paper

  Writing as Timberlyn Scott

  Unhinged

  Unraveling

  Chaos

  Naughty Holiday Editions

  2015

  2016

  PHOTO: CYNTHIA PHOTOGRAPHY

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author NICOLE EDWARDS lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband, their youngest of three kids, and four rambunctious dogs. When she’s not writing about sexy alpha males, Nicole can often be found with a book in hand or making an attempt to keep the dogs happy. You can find her hanging out on Facebook and interacting with her readers—even when she’s supposed to be writing.

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  Newsletter

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Bad Business

  A Bad Boys of Sports Novel

  by Nicole Edwards

  Available from Loveswept

  Chapter 1

  To all the football fans out there, ask yourself this: Can a rookie quarterback take a stale team all the way to the Super Bowl when in reality he should’ve been sitting on the bench this year? Well, if you ask Jason Stone like I did, his answer is simple. “Why don’t you hang around and find out?”

  —Excerpt from Sports Unlimited’s Bad Boys of Sports edition

  Stone

  “Bro, we kicked some serious ass out there today!” Snyder yells, bumping my knuckles with his.

  I lift my glass, tapping it against his beer. “Fuck yeah, we did.”

  “And this is the shit, man,” he res
ponds while glancing around at the hordes of women who have come out tonight to celebrate the Wranglers’ second straight win this season. Being that it’s only the third game, and the second that I’ve played, I have to agree that it’s a pretty damn good feeling.

  It’s still hard to believe that people are asking for my autograph, slapping me on the back, and telling me they think I’m going to take the team all the way to the Super Bowl this year.

  The Super Bowl for fuck’s sake. Seriously?

  I don’t know about all that, but I am damn sure not complaining. This is the fucking life.

  And here I am, hanging with my boys, with women galore, ready to chill. Like I said, no complaints from this guy.

  I turn to set my drink on the bar and come up short, damn near plowing over a cute little woman who I hadn’t noticed was practically glued to my hip.

  “Would you like to dance?” the sweet little redhead asks, her big green eyes peering up at me as though I’m responsible for world peace or some shit.

  “Sure,” I tell her, setting my club soda down. Although the guys think it’s laced with vodka, I know the truth. Drinking is not my thing. However, dancing with a smoking hot chick is.

  I allow the girl to lead me out to the dance floor and I manage to smile when appropriate. Less than thirty seconds in, I can already tell that this chick is a sure thing even though she doesn’t even know my name. Hell, I could probably take her to a dark corner somewhere and do some dirty things to her for the rest of the night and she’d be smiling the entire time.

  But that’s not going to happen, no matter how much my dick thinks he’s in charge of my actions. I know better.