Hard Game
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Author’s Words
Hard Game
Wild Boys Sports Romance Book 1
Content
Cassy
Ivan
Wild Play
Just for you!
Hard Game
Wild Boys Sports Romance Book 1
Copyright 2017 by Harper Lauren.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechan ical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review
Author Contact
Email: harper@authorharperlauren.com
Facebook: @authorharperlauren
Content
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Author’s Words
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Chapter 1
Cassy
All the way from the train station, I couldn’t help dreading the nightmare looming ahead. I knew it was going to be bad, but looking out the window at the tree-lined streets, the picture-perfect families walking their dogs, and those little neighborhood shops made me want to turn back at once.
“You’re going to love it here, Cassy,” Aunt Ellen said with a smile. “This town hasn’t changed much since the last time you were here.”
I bet, I thought sarcastically as I gave the old woman my best “good girl” smile. I had to be on my best behavior if I ever wanted to get back to the city and to my life.
“You probably don’t remember,” she continued as she drove the old beat-up hatchback. “You were only a little girl then, perhaps around six. After that, your dad got so busy building his empire in the city he never got to visit his hometown again.”
“Yeah, well, Mom doesn’t like this place much,” I said without thinking. “It’s too, uh, backward and slow-moving for her.”
“I’m guessing you take after her,” Aunt Ellen answered, glancing at me.
I shrugged. “What can I say? I thrive in the city.”
She actually leaned toward me and squeezed my hand. “You’ll get used to Burchnell, Cassy.”
I sure hope not, I replied silently as the narrow street we were on widened and stretched into a gravel road in between fields and farms. There were actual barns with haystacks and animals in this area, plus a couple of old trucks and tractors. As for people, I could probably count those that I saw on my fingers.
Sighing, I turned to check out the person whom I was expected to spend the rest of the year with--- Dad’s old maid sister. Aunt Ellen seemed nice enough with her long blonde hair in a classic bun, a friendly twinkle in her blue-green eyes, and a dimple on one cheek. She actually resembled my dad a lot and seemed to look like me too, except that I’d probably be wearing Chanel and Gucci at that age with my hair done in a salon and maybe even a tattoo at the back of my neck.
The vision made me want to laugh, but it also reminded me of all the beautiful clothes and shoes I’d left behind at home. I brought some, though, but they weren’t going to be enough.
Looking down at my cracked pink nail polish, I suddenly wondered if there was even a decent nail salon in this place where I could have a manicure done. That little thought made me feel shitty all over again. Dad sure knew how to punish me.
As we pulled up into the driveway of a two-story countryside home in rustic beige and blue, with flowers all around and a spacious patio that even had a cozy swinging couch, a tinge of hope seemed to glimmer somewhere within my heart. The artist in me seemed to have been stirred. I had to admit that the house was very pretty and well-kept, sort of like a scene straight out of a rural home décor magazine.
“Cassy, I know you’re going to have a lot of adjusting to do,” Aunt Ellen began as I followed her into the house, hauling my Louis Vuitton luggage behind me. “But you must know that there are rules to follow here.”
Here goes the lecture. I simply nodded, though it was difficult to maintain the “good girl” smile plastered on my face the entire time. “I’m very tired, Aunt Ellen,” I said. “Can you please show me my room first before we have the, uh, orientation?”
Mom would have given me an exasperated look. But to my surprise, Aunt Ellen gave me a sweet smile and said, “Of course, my dear.”
Grateful, I went after her to the second floor where all the bedrooms were located. I was given a rather large room facing the road (not that there was anything interesting to see out there), with a wooden four-poster bed, a huge closet, an old school dresser, and walls covered in cream paper with tiny yellow flowers. Not bad, I thought, nodding.
I lugged my stuff inside, wanting to be left alone for a while. That was when I saw an old sewing machine sitting by the window. It wasn’t ancient yet, but the model was probably older than I am. Nevertheless, it would surely be useful for the project I was planning on doing while cooped up in this town.
Aunt Ellen immediately noticed that I was scrutinizing the machine. “You know, this used to be your Aunt Sherry’s room. We both loved to sew back then. But if you don’t want it here, I can transfer it to the other room.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” I quickly said. “I mean, I think it suits the overall interior design.”
I was actually surprised to discover that dad’s sisters had been fond of sewing. Perhaps I got the talent from them. However, I wasn’t ready to let anyone know just yet that I was into that sort of thing.
“All right,” Aunt Ellen said. “I’ll leave you to unpack and rest while I prepare lunch. We can talk about the rules and your chores later.”
Chores? Ugh. I wanted to dig a hole in the backyard and hide in there until the year was over. And it was only the first quarter.
Once the old woman was gone, I got my phone out and was about to call my best friend Charlene when it rang first. It was my dad.
“Hey, Dad,” I greeted. “I’m in the hell
hole now. You win.”
“Cassy, this isn’t a contest or an argument,” he told me in a stern voice. “I care about you, and I don’t want you wasting your life partying and mingling with all the wrong people. You’re too smart and talented for that, okay? You just need to straighten out your act and learn to take responsibility. And unless you prove to me that you’ve outgrown your overspending and partying habits and are finally ready to become a real grown-up, then you’re going to keep staying there.”
He really meant business. I could tell by the way he spoke. This time, he wasn’t going to be sweet-talked by his one and only daughter. I guess I’d gone overboard and he was finally fed up.
“Okay,” I answered. “But what about my daily expenses? Do I even get an allowance?”
“I’ve given Ellen allowance for your food. That’s it. She’ll be paying you for the work you help her do in the farm, so you better do it if you want any money. And if you want more, then it’s time for you to get a job.”
“A job!” I couldn’t help saying with a tone of disgust. Jobs are for lowly people who don’t have a penchant for adventure. I couldn’t imagine myself being employed and answering to a boss!
“You’re twenty-five, Cassy, not twelve,” he pointed out. “You graduated from an ivy league school, which is kind of a miracle, given the amount of partying you did. Do you know how many others would die to have that credential on their resume?”
“No,” I answered flatly, just wanting to annoy him further.
I heard him sigh impatiently. “If you keep this attitude up, you’re going to be stuck there forever.”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “You’re right. And just to let you know, I was actually part of the top 20% of my class. I can get a great, high-paying job in the city! Just let me go back and I’ll even rent my own place and prove to you I can make it on my own---“
“Too late for that,” he said, cutting me off. “You should have done that after college instead of using up all of my credit cards for nonsense parties, clothes, and vacations.”
“Right.” Suddenly, I felt so down I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. This was all too real now. I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore.
“You have the remaining year to prove to me you can be a responsible grown-up there in Burchnell,” Dad said in a firm, quiet voice. “Then maybe you’ll have your chance to build a good life here.”
“I thought you wanted to train me to run our IT business,” I muttered, getting a little desperate. “Isn’t that why you let me take that course at the university?”
“Yes, but you don’t seem to have what it takes to run this business,” he said outright. Ouch.
I could feel tears of frustration and anger welling up in my eyes. I tightened my heart and forced them back. I didn’t want to feel defeated.
“I’d offered you a job in our company, Cassy, but you didn’t want to take it,” he reminded me. “You didn’t want to work your way up and learn the ropes like I did. Now you’re on your own. Prove me wrong.”
“Bye, Dad,” was all I said before hanging up. I stared at my phone for a long time after that, my head spinning and my heart aching. A tear rolled down my cheek, and I hastily brushed it away.
I couldn’t even log into my Facebook account and post about the pretend vacation I had gone on. My father had let me bring my smartphone at least, minus the Internet. I had loaded the memory with movies and e-books instead. Plus I had my music and memories to keep me company too.
Somewhere outside, a dog began to bark and a tractor roared to life. Hello, boring existence. Hello, rural Cassy.
Chapter 2
Ivan
Given another circumstance, I would have been glad to come home to the place where I’d lived almost all my life.
It had been a month now since I’d been sent home to recover from my knee injury. I was very reluctant at first, but then I thought it would hurt even more to be in the city without being able to participate in the big league.
After the reconstruction of my torn ligament during a sensitive surgery in the city, my doctor had not just prescribed meds but also fresh air, familiar faces, and a good dose of nature. And when my mom had found out, she had actually sounded more delighted rather than sad and concerned.
Can’t blame her, I thought. She’d hardly seen me since I’d gotten accepted onto the professional football team of Windfield City. It was a four-hour drive away and just two hours by train, but the fast-paced lifestyle had quickly swallowed me up. I probably could have made more time to visit Burchnell more often, especially when my younger brother Owen was also home.
As I wistfully watched the ongoing football game from the sidelines at my old high school, I couldn’t help recalling my winning moment around ten years ago. I had been a senior just wanting to impress my girlfriend then. But what I hadn’t realized was the impact I’d made on a college sports scout who’d happened to be in town visiting a relative.
After my football buddy Alex was enlisted in the professional league, I hadn’t stopped dreaming about following in his footsteps. Upon his graduation two years earlier than me, he’d gone on to become a big-time football star from college to the professional scene. Nobody else had come close since then, until I was given my own big break.
College football had been a blast for me. Everything had gone according to plan, and I’d soon found myself playing for the Windfield Warriors alongside Alex.
The boy sitting beside me yelled, cutting through my reverie. A scrimmage on the field grabbed my attention. The center of the Burchnell Bears just threw the ball to the quarterback, who was now running at full speed, heading for a touchdown.
I stood up abruptly in anticipation. Searing pain from my right knee unfurled in a rush, the sting shooting up my thigh as well. My face scrunched up in agony as I sat back down on the bleachers while the crowd cheered all around me.
Immense frustration swelled inside me. I missed that feeling of adrenaline rushing in my blood during an exciting moment in a game. I missed the roar of the crowd as our team scored again. I missed everything about football. It had been my life, and now I seemed so lost without it.
The game was over. Burchnell Bears had won. I smiled despite all the negative emotions surging through my mind. After all, this was the same team, the same game that had made my high school life so memorable.
The throng of people getting off the stands was mostly teenagers, but dotted with some alumni too. There were a couple of familiar faces, but nobody I knew very well.
I lit a cigarette and took a long puff to help me relax. I had developed the bad habit at home, since I was so bored and tense all the time.
I took another puff. What the fuck, right? I wasn’t an athlete anymore, anyway. For now.
Before I left the field, though, I was swarmed by a group of football enthusiasts who recognized me. I immediately threw the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. I grinned and relished the sudden attention even if I had to explain about my injury, which was the reason I wasn’t playing during the season. Some of them had even seen the incident on TV.
“When are you going to play again?” one of them asked.
“Next season, definitely,” I answered with confidence. Deep inside, I wasn’t really sure. I had seen it happen to many league players--- ACL knee injuries causing them to give up their flourishing careers in the sport. But the doctor had told me that I had about 80% chance of recovering and being able to play again. I was certainly banking on that.
They had their pictures taken with me then. A few asked me for an autograph. For a brief moment, I was a football star again. I held on to that sensation as I slowly walked (and limped a bit) to my car. At least I had been cleared already to drive short distances as long as I wasn’t on painkillers.
The past month had seemed to drag on forever. I couldn’t even help Mom with the house chores or tend to the farm. She’d actually refused my assistance several times, saying that I needed to focus on fu
ll recovery. She had a point there, but I hated feeling helpless. What’s more, even though she wouldn’t admit it, I was well aware that the family’s was suffering financially because of all the debt that Dad had left behind. I had been pitching in, but city living had also taken its toll on my income. My injury was thankfully covered by insurance.
My phone rang. It was one of my pals from the city. I ignored it and revved the engine. I didn’t drive straight home, though. It was only around five in the afternoon, but I was itching for a drink.
I hadn’t been answering calls from friends for a whole month now. I just wasn’t ready to hear their tone of concern and words of pity.
The small town bar was still closed, but I knocked on the door anyway. I knew Old Craig was in there already, setting up. “Hey, Craig!” I called. “Open up.”
“What you want?!” he yelled from inside.
“It’s Ivan,” I yelled back. “Ivan Willard.”
The wooden door creaked open. A bearded guy in his fifties peeked through the gap, his eyes widening at the sight of me. “Holy fuck, Ivan Willard!” he exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face. He opened the door wide and let me in.
“You don’t look much older than you were in high school when you boys used to sneak in here on weeknights,” he said, chuckling.
The pub’s walls and ceiling had been repainted, but it was apparent that the place was already rundown. Nevertheless, it gave me a sense of comfort. It reminded me of good memories.