The Sport of Romance: A Multi-Author Box Set

by Cari Quinn

  “Who’s next?” she shouted. She lifted a beer to the first lips he’d ever kissed.

  “I am,” he bellowed.

  The buzz of the bar fell silent, until only Kid Rock’s All Summer Long blared from the jukebox.

  He gained a small satisfaction from seeing the bottle halt midway to her mouth. A moment later she faced him with a smile that could seduce the devil. Or him. No, he told himself, that was a teenage boy’s memories trying to worm their way back to the surface. He buried the foolish feelings. Billy wasn’t that naïve kid anymore.

  “What’s your game, stranger?” she asked.

  The muscle in his jaw twitched. And Hoss thought Billy had balls? Angel not only played games, she stacked the rules in her favor. Six years of silence and now out of the blue a paternity suit. She hadn’t bothered to answer the two letters he mailed. He figured she taken off to Vegas the first chance she got and joined the women’s pro pool circuit. It was her dream. And he held her back or so she said when she cut him loose. His ego still stung from her parting words, ‘Oh, and I faked it.’

  There she stood, still playing pool in her father’s dive of a bar and drinking beer. For a moment it felt like he’d stepped back in time. Nothing had changed, except she had a child. His child. Maybe, he reminded himself.

  “I don’t play games.” He strode forward and tossed the court papers onto the pool table. “Why is the mother of my child hustling pool?”

  A fleeting moment of hurt etched her beautiful face and Billy regretted his words but then her brows furrowed.

  “Everyone out,” ordered Angel.

  Maybe she didn’t want any witnesses, which was fine with him. The paparazzi would crawl up his ass and take pictures of the event if they knew. After the fiasco with fashion’s new it girl, his coach had read him the riot act. Billy’s job was to play football and his ugly mug belonged on the sports pages not in celebrity rag magazines. But if Angel’s angle wasn’t to attract media attention, then she wanted money. Why now?

  And why after all these years did his heart still race at the mere sight of her. Carlos had been right, Billy should’ve stayed away and let the lawyers handle it. God, and he’d been worried about female hysterics when he should’ve been worried about his own state of mind.

  Chapter Two

  As the crowd filed out of the back room, Angel took a long pull on the first beer she’d had in months. Wasn’t it just like the universe’s twisted sense of humor to have Billy Burner return on the same night she allows herself to have some adult fun? There he stood, indignant in his misconception, accusing her of hustling pool and child abandonment. Well, you were hustling. But Billy would know all about child abandonment. She wouldn’t even be hustling if she hadn’t needed the money to buy groceries.

  Grabbing a cue stick, she chalked the tip with practiced seductive strokes designed specifically to throw off the men she played against. Using her long bangs as a shield, she covertly examined Billy and compared the man in front of her to the memory of the teenage boy she once loved. Six years roughened the boy band cuteness that high school girls once wrote about in their diaries. He’d grown an inch or two, which now meant he had a clear foot over her 5’5” self. She couldn’t see the muscles, but thanks to his near naked TV ads for a men’s cologne, she knew exactly what lay beneath the suit that would’ve hung off his seventeen-year-old frame.

  His face was devoid of the easy smile with dimples deep enough to get lost in. Instead he wore a determined frown. Only the shaggy blond hair that had come to be his trademark remained. And, of course, the eyes, such a striking cobalt blue that she’d only known one other human to possess. Her daughter. With that thought her weakening knees straightened and so did her backbone.

  “You too, Hoss. Out.” The bartender was more of a family friend than an employee, but this was between her and Billy.

  “I’m not leaving you alone with him,” he said as he folded his arms.

  “Damn Hoss, you really think I could hurt Angel?”

  The unmistakable catch in Billy’s voice surprised her. Perhaps some part of him still cared. She mentally shook off that silly schoolgirl fantasy. Look where it got her the last time, a candidate for MTV’s 16 and pregnant.

  “Who knows, deadbeat? Too many hits to your head? Steroids? You wouldn’t be the first football player to shoot his girlfriend,” Hoss challenged.

  “Fine.” Billy flashed opened his suit jacket to prove he wasn’t carrying, but that didn’t seem to satisfy Hoss who frisked him like he made his living as a cop and not a bartender. Billy glared at Angel and she glared right back even though she’d give anything to see that smile again.

  What did he have to be mad about? So boo-hoo she’d sued him for child support. She wouldn’t have asked for even a penny if she weren’t about to be evicted. When the news aired videos showing Billy raining money on strippers and on his supermodel girlfriend who had joined them up on stage, Angel had enough of scraping by. The paternity suit she filed days later had nothing to do with jealously, she convinced herself, and was done in the name of fairness. Damn it, she was only doing what was right, only doing what Billy should’ve been man enough to do.

  Hoss straightened and without taking his eyes off of Billy said, “I’ll be right outside.”

  The door shut. Billy held her gaze until the song on the jukebox ended. Silence filled the space where Gabriela was conceived. Not the most auspicious of beginnings for her little girl, but Angel swore she’d provide a better life for the both of them.

  “Is it true?” He nodded to the rolled up papers on the pool table.

  Stunned, she blinked before narrowing her eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “Is it true?”

  “What? True that I’ve been raising our daughter alone? That five years ago you denied you were the father?” Her grip on the cue stick tightened until she thought it would pulverize into sawdust.

  “I can’t deny something I never knew about.”

  “Never knew about?” Angel flung the stick to the side and got up in his face. The smell of the cologne he hawked surrounded her like an ocean breeze. The stink of the bar intruded making it easy to ignore the pangs of want. The money he made and wasted from that endorsement deal alone could have paid off Angel’s student loans. “Are you claiming my father didn’t travel eight hours to tell you I had a baby? That you didn’t laugh in his face and call me a whore?”

  “No!” Billy gripped her arms. “I would never do that.”

  His fingers pressed into her flesh. Being this close to him made her weak when she needed to be strong. She yanked away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “I didn’t know anything until the court papers showed up. I swear it. Go ask him. Where is O’Malley, anyway? Surprised he’s not down here beating me over the head with a pool stick.”

  Her heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice. It couldn’t be true. But what if Billy was telling the truth? What if everything her father had said was a lie? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. But it was one thing to lie about where the bar’s profits had disappeared to and quite another to lie about Billy. Where did he go that weekend if not to Billy’s hometown? The answer was so simple, so obvious. The casino. Angel turned away from Billy so he couldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes. How could her father do this to her? To Gabby?

  She didn’t know which truth was worse, Billy denying paternity or that her father lied about it. Wasn’t it enough that she broke it off with Billy when O’Malley said if she really loved Billy she’d let him go. And why did a flicker of the burning love they once shared start to flame. Tired of being the strong one, the tears she’d been unable to shed at the funeral spilled down her cheeks. Sobs began to rack her body and Billy wrapped her up in a hug.

  “Angel,” he whispered into her hair. “What’s going on?”

  She turned in his arms burying her face in his chest, surely ruining his jacket with her salty tears. Without looking up she said, “He’s dead.”


  Chapter Three

  Billy struggled to process the warring emotions raging inside him. Anger. Bitterness. Confusion. Tenderness. The feeling of Angel in his arms won out against all the other long held beliefs. He stroked her hair as he mumbled comforting words. Barging into O’Malleys searching for answers had led to more questions. But only one needed answering at the moment. “Where is Gabriela?”

  His daughter’s name felt foreign on his lips. According to the paternity suit Angel chose not to use his last name. Why would she when she believed he’d denied parentage? Was he a heartless bastard to be glad O’Malley was dead? He didn’t think so, otherwise he never would’ve learned of Gabriela. Or had the chance to embrace Angel again. For a precious moment time held no meaning.

  After one last sniffle, Angel backed away and said, “She’s at a princess sleepover.”

  He could only guess at what that entailed. Though he itched to meet his daughter, perhaps it was for the best that it wouldn’t be right away. He and Angel needed to figure out the next step.

  “Can we talk somewhere more private?” He nodded towards the door where he knew Hoss waited for a chance to kick his ass. If O’Malley had told him the same lie then Billy couldn’t blame him.

  “Upstairs.” She pointed to the exit leading to the apartments before letting the crowd back in from the main bar area.

  Smoking hot memories of sneaking up to her bedroom nearly made him forget the court papers on the pool table. A flurry of whispers from those funneling back inside drowned out Angel’s voice, but he heard Hoss’ deep baritone call. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I’m not a hormonal teenager anymore,” she shouted back before shutting and bolting the back door that connected to the hallway of the residential part of the building.

  Angel might not be hormonal, but with his gaze transfixed on her shapely ass as she climbed the stairs, his testosterone shot up to caveman levels. It wasn’t the first time he replayed the last night they made love. That night he had shed the fumbling boy who took her virginity, along with his own, in the backseat of his car. Instead he had made love to her long and slow until they both broke out in a glistening sweat.

  Entering the apartment, he took note of the same yellow couch standing in the same spot and he half-expected to see O’Malley snoring away in the shabby recliner. Hard to believe the old man was dead. If it weren’t for the toys strewn about and a new wall full of photos he would have thought Angel lived in a time capsule of her youth.

  Angel broke the silence, “I’ll get you a beer.”

  He could use something stronger, but he nodded. When she left the room, he walked over to the wall displaying his daughter’s life. His hand drew up to touch the newborn photo before moving on to a picture of Angel looking young and scared, and holding Gabriela in the hospital. Anger at O’Malley surged up inside him. Billy should have been there.

  Witnessing each milestone in 2D nearly brought him to tears. With each photo his daughter grew more beautiful and Angel more confident, both of them happy without him. Though Gabriela wore her hair in long curls, the ebony color matched her mother’s. Billy didn’t need a DNA test to tell him he was the sperm donor to the unique colored eyes staring back at him. There was no maybe about it; Billy was Gabriela’s father.

  Would the photos have included him if he knew of Angel’s pregnancy? For the first time Billy asked himself what he would’ve said to O’Malley. As the jilted seventeen-year-old boy would he have accepted his responsibilities? Or would he have said exactly what O’Malley conjured up. Why didn’t Angel come to him herself or answer his letters? Unless she never got them. O’Malley must have intercepted them. But why? Her father seemed to like him, unlike Billy’s father who had done everything in his power to keep Angel and Billy apart.

  Noticing an unframed picture on the end table face down, he picked it up and turned it over. The image of a beaming woman wearing a nurse’s uniform and holding a diploma confused him for a moment. Then he realized it was Angel with her glorious dark hair tucked under the cap. Returning to the living room she handed him a beer. Looking grim, she took the photo out of his hand and placed it back on the table, again face down. Why? She should be proud.

  “You’re a nurse?” Billy took a swig of the beer. Yeah, he really needed something stronger.

  Angel shrugged. “Yes, and no. I still have to take the licensing exam.”

  Billy couldn’t help but be impressed. While he’d concentrated on making a name for himself in college football and then the NFL, Angel, with her dreams of being a professional pool player shattered, had raised a daughter, earned a degree, and no doubt did so while helping her father in the dive downstairs. In comparison his Liberal Arts education seemed uninspiring. His academics took a backseat to the game of football. He studied game films, dissected the opponent’s defense, and memorized the playbook. Too bad there wasn’t a gridiron degree. He hadn’t even finished college and in his junior year had declared himself early for the NFL draft. “When do you take it?”

  “I haven’t rescheduled yet. O’Malley died the day before the exam.” She stepped around the recliner and peered out the window. “I have no money. It’s the only reason I filed for child support. O’Malley died two months ago owing everyone.”

  “Gambling?” It wasn’t a question really, not even a guess.

  She nodded. “This all belongs to—” Looking away from the window she swept her hand around in a mock gesture, but then dropped her hand to her side. “Well, it’s not important.”

  Three generations of O’Malley’s had owned the bar. Angel would’ve have been the fourth in spite of arguing she’d rather die first. Billy’s father wasn’t the only one who thought she’d end up on a stripper’s pole whether she stayed or took off to Vegas. She may have remained in this downtrodden town, had a baby out of wedlock during her senior year of high school but she didn’t end up a statistic and she proved them all wrong by earning a college degree. That took fucking guts.

  Time had only toughened the goth girl from the proverbial wrong side of town. She deserved so much more. So did his Gabriela. He looked to the wall of photos. The first few years of his daughter’s life had been a financial struggle, but Billy had the power to change all that. It was time for him to set things right.

  Taking a deep breath, he readied himself for the big step he was about to take. Releasing the air out of his lungs, he turned back to Angel. The light from the street lamp filtered through the lace curtains creating a soft glow across her face. When does one fall out of love with one’s first heartbreak? Never.

  So are you doing this for them or for yourself? A little of both, but a small part of him hoped he was doing it for the family they could be together. Another larger part thought he was an idiot. Drawn to her like a movie vampire to its female prey, Billy came to stand beside Angel without realizing he’d moved. Taking her hands in his he asked, “Move in with me.”

  Chapter Four

  “Hell no!” The hands that held hers felt like shackles instead of flesh. Angel jerked away and strode to the door, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

  She’d never depend on another man. Her father had either gambled away the profits or drank them. He lied to her over and over again. Billy was probably no different. She might need his child support. Herself, she could take care of just fine.

  “I have a right to see my daughter.” Billy didn’t budge an inch.

  Frankly, she didn’t care what his rights were but Gabby did deserve to meet her father and have him in her life that she did know. While never worthy of a corny Father of the Year plastic trophy at least O’Malley had stuck around, unlike her mother. That meant something. The void her mother left behind could never be filled. She didn’t want that for Gabby. Still, she wasn’t going to make it easy for Billy. “Sure, you can see her every other weekend.”

  “You know that’s not going to work. I practice all week and play on Sundays.”

  “You see? Already
putting football above your daughter.” She couldn’t help the snarky tone lacing her voice.

  “That’s not fair.” His fingers raked through his golden locks in frustration.

  Angel remembered applying a lighter touch to his silky hair. Remembered how much she once loved him and how her father manipulated that love to convince her to set him free. Not that she’d ever tell Billy. “Believe me, I’m well versed in what’s not fair.”

  “I know you are, Angel. Raising a kid on your own. Struggling financially.” He moved away from the window to pull her from the door and onto the battered couch. “Give yourself a break from all this. Help me to get to know Gabriela.”

  The sound of her daughter’s name coming out of his mouth put fear into her heart. Would he try to take Gabriela away? He had the money to hire a team of lawyers. What did she have but a bar about to be foreclosed on by the mob? “Won’t we cramp your style?”

  “My style?”

  “Strippers, for one.” At least there was some ammunition she could use against him if he tried to sue for full custody.

  “Keeping tabs on me?”

  She didn’t like the teasing tone or the thoughtful look that followed it. “Hardly. You’re a media whore.”

  “Ouch.”

  “The truth hurts.” She mentally shrugged off her own irrational hurt feelings of seeing Billy surrounded by strippers.

  “I’ll give you that one but I can assure you I don’t frequent strip clubs.” Reaching over he rested his hand on her knee. “Or bring them home.”

  Their gazes met. Angel nearly choked on the emotion clawing inside her. And God help her, desire too. Did he ever think about their time together? And if he did was it just the sex he remembered? Damn, is that what he wanted right now? By the look in his eyes the answer was yes and she slapped his hand away. “Your supermodel girlfriend won’t be pleased.”