Ace's Wild: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (The Beasts of Baseball Book 2)

by Alice Ward

  Jack: I’m very glad I met you. Do you have time for a drink tonight?

  Whitney howled in my ear. “He’s got it bad for you.”

  “He said we’d see each other after spring training. Why is he changing that now?” I whined.

  “He must have enjoyed the kiss a lot more than you did.” She winked and finished her wine. I picked mine up, doing the same.

  Me: Spending the evening with Whitney. Calvin just left, and I don’t want to leave her alone tonight.

  “Nice, so you’re using me to get out of this?”

  My lips curled into a wild smile. “Ingenious.”

  Jack: Okay. Well, I leave in two days. If you get a chance, I’d love to see you before I go.

  Me: Okay. :)

  “Holly, you need to see him before he leaves for Florida.” Whitney insisted.

  “Why?”

  She rolled her eyes. “If it was just a fluke kiss, you need to know.”

  The thought of kissing Jack again was less than thrilling. The thought of kissing Ace, on the other hand, that was beyond thrilling. Maybe I could think of Ace while kissing Jack.

  I lounged around the guest house with Whitney most of the day. We planned to go out on the town, but by the time it reached an appropriate time, we both decided to stay in.

  The next day was similar, both of us in pajamas all day, staying in where it was nice and warm. Every time I made the short trip from the guesthouse to the main house, I yearned for the warmth of Florida, and Ace’s bed.

  Jack continued to push for a drink or at least a cup of coffee. And between both him and Whitney’s firm nudging, I finally agreed.

  I smoothed my hair back into a tight ponytail, rolled a thick headband over my forehead to keep my ears warm, and pulled on a heavy sweater that covered me from neck to mid-ass.

  “Wow, you scream ‘stay the fuck away,’” Whitney screeched when she saw me.

  Perfect. I’m ready.

  Jack picked me up at Whitney’s front door. I begged her to let me take a cab so I wouldn’t be trapped, but she put her foot down. He was handsome, very handsome. His white teeth sparkled as he smiled at me. “You look adorable.”

  “Thank you. It’s just so cold,” I said, explaining my heavy attire.

  “I’ll keep you warm.” His arm reached around me, pulling me in close to him. Damn. He smelled really good.

  Whitney winked at me as we walked out the front door. His car was modest, nothing like Ace’s Porsche. He opened the door for me, told me to adjust the heat to where I was comfortable once he slid into the driver’s seat, and then took my hand in his as we pulled off. He was a gentleman, I had to give him that much.

  We drove past several popular clubs and restaurants. I was beginning to wonder if I’d been kidnapped when he pulled into a small gravel parking lot. The sign read ‘The Diner,’ and there was nothing impressive about the building.

  Only a few cars were in the lot, most of them older models, lower end cars that I’d expect to see in my hometown. “What’s this place?” I asked, unable to keep the curiosity from my tone.

  He chuckled, opened his door, and walked to my side. I took his hand as he offered it, stood on the gravel in my winter boots and was glad I’d decided to under dress. Maybe that’s why he brought me here. I didn’t look good enough for those other places.

  “You’ll love it. I promise.”

  His deep blue eyes penetrated into my soul. I felt a tingle, a real tingle between my legs. Maybe there was hope for this guy.

  He held the door open for me to walk inside. The place smelled like peanuts, and as I crunched the empty shells beneath my feet, it was clear why. The few people inside wore jeans, t-shirts, boots, and looked like a blue collar crowd. It felt homey. I followed him to a table near a stage where a few guys worked loading equipment onto the small platform.

  “You look disappointed,” he said.

  “No.” I forced my smile to brighten. “It’s just not what I expected.”

  He laughed, a deep sound that was very attractive. “You told me you loved fried catfish and country music. You know how hard it was to find that around here?”

  My heart instantly warmed towards him, and that tingle returned between my legs. Wow, this is something Ace would’ve never done for me.

  The waitress took our order, two catfish specials, and two Long Island iced teas. It was just like the place back home, warm, friendly, and comfortable.

  Jack’s hand slid across the table and gripped mine. “I would really love to see you smile like this all the time.”

  I hadn’t realized I was smiling so cheesy until he mentioned it. My cheeks actually hurt. The band had set up and started to play, their first song “Stupid Boy” by Keith Urban. I didn’t find that to be a coincidence since I told him Keith Urban was my favorite country singer, and that was my favorite song. My smile widened. I squeezed his hand. Yes, I could get used to this.

  Our food came on large white plates, overflowing with fish and fries. It was delicious. Jack admitted he’d never eaten catfish, always believing they were muddy bottom feeders. “It’s all in the preparation,” I told him, a fact my grandpa always said to me.

  He listened so attentively while I talked about the man I admired so much. I told him about how he used to take me fishing, tell me stories of the war, and beat me at pitch, a card game he’d never heard of before. He seemed truly interested, fascinated really.

  It felt good to talk about the good memories in my past. There weren’t many.

  The band was surprisingly good, and Jack even managed to get me onto the small dance floor. I wasn’t a dancer. Never had been. But, in his arms, it felt natural.

  A slow song started, and he pulled me close. That beautiful aroma of his cologne wafted under my nostrils, lulling me into a trance of contentment.

  His hands moved to my hips, gripping me tightly before sliding around to my ass cheeks. He didn’t grope me, squeeze me, or even slap my round cheeks like Ace would’ve. Instead, he rested them there sweetly; stirring up an arousal in me that was unexpected, but delightfully welcomed.

  This is good. There’s hope for me after all.

  He pulled back from our embrace, and a hand left my ass to move just below my chin. He lifted my chin and lowered his head. Our lips were dangerously close together, his eyes seductively staring into mine. My eyes closed, my lips parted, and as his soft lips pressed against mine, I felt another stirring of arousal.

  When his tongue stroked mine, I nearly flinched, expecting the same treatment as before. But it was different this time. Better.

  The music faded in the background, and the world disappeared for a moment as our tongues intertwined, and our bodies swayed back and forth, pressed tightly together.

  I hadn’t realized the song ended when we pulled apart. My eyes opened to find his upon me, that look so familiar. That’s how Calvin looked at Whitney. I melted.

  We sat back down at the table, finished our drinks, and listened to a few more songs. Our hands stayed clasped together, our knees touched, and I could feel the security this man could offer me. He oozed love, sincerity, and loyalty, three things I didn’t think Ace Newman would ever possess.

  “I’m supposed to visit Ace in Florida.” I blurted out, needing to be honest, but hating for the awkwardness to begin.

  He was quiet, calm, but didn’t show any emotion I could read. Where was the anger, the jealousy, the rage?

  “I understand,” he said simply.

  “I just don’t want you to be hurt. You’ll probably be there when I arrive, so it’s not like I could’ve hidden it even if I wanted to,” I explained.

  “Did you want to?” he asked.

  Hell, yes I wanted to. “Of course not,” I fibbed.

  “I appreciate you telling me. So, you do still see Ace?”

  “I haven’t. Not in months. He just asked me to visit him the other day. I said yes because…” I struggled to finish that sentence.

  “I get it. Yo
u two have a history. I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries.”

  I watched the disappointment flash across his face. I felt like an asshole.

  “I know Ace isn’t the kind of guy a girl ends up with,” I admitted, and to my horror, felt tears starting to work up in my eyes. I took a deep breath and held myself together before continuing. “I don’t know where things are going with us. I’d say we are close to our end. But, I have to see him again to make sure. I just don’t want you blindsided by any of this.”

  His smile was surprisingly warm, and he squeezed my hand gently in his. “You’re an amazing woman, Holly. You deserve what makes you happy.”

  Wow. Why couldn’t happy be with this man?

  I knew Whitney would tell me I was self-sabotaging when I filled her in on my conversation with Jack. Maybe she was right. That could’ve been my motive. But, it was clear that Jack wasn’t an ordinary man and self-sabotaging wasn’t going to work.

  “Thank you.” I smiled and gave his hand a squeeze back.

  Jack drove me back to Whitney’s, his demeanor not altered from when he first picked me up. He squeezed my hand, sang out of tune to me along with the radio, and turned the heat up so hot in the car I forgot it was winter outside.

  I hadn’t expected a goodnight kiss after I told him about Ace, but I was wrong. He gripped me tightly in front of Whitney’s door and planted one firmly on my lips. I was cold. My mind was filled with confusion and guilt, so the kiss fell flat, feeling more like the first one instead of the last.

  “Thank you for a great night,” I told him as I opened the door to let myself inside. I didn’t want to tell him about the guest house, fearful that he’d want to come in, and possibly stay.

  “How was your date?” Whitney pounced me as soon as the door closed.

  I blushed.

  “That good?”

  I told her everything, and she reacted as I expected. “I can’t believe you still want to visit Ace.”

  There was more to Ace Newman than met the eye. We had so many nights where I felt like so much more than just a bed warmer, a friend, a fuck buddy. If there was any chance that he could change, any chance at all. I needed to know.

  And if not, I wanted to say goodbye.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ace

  Daytona was proving to be a drag. The bars were dead, or hell, maybe it was me. When a few good prospects came my way, I just couldn’t muster any interest. Even the drinks weren’t giving me the peace of mind I needed.

  On the field, the sun was wearing me down quickly. My body hadn’t yet acclimated to the Florida heat, even though I’d been in Hawaii not that long ago. I wasn’t ready to admit it was the late nights and the drinking, and certainly wasn’t ready to admit I spent one evening flirting with the middle-aged bartender with a mole on her cheek the size of a peanut and frizzy hair that looked unwashed. I was losing my edge, and I didn’t like it at all.

  Except when I held a bat in my hand. Then, I was still a god.

  I was offering up some pretty tight swings for Luke. He couldn’t seem to find the zone to strike me out. “Give the kid a chance, Newman!” Coach screamed. Seriously? He was yelling at me because I was beating the shit out of a ball?

  “You think the other players are gonna give him a chance?” I snarled and spit onto the plate. “He has to earn it, just like the rest of us.”

  Calvin jogged to the mound and whispered something in Luke’s ear. I watched Luke grin, his eyes looking at me with new excitement. Calvin walked away, Luke wound up his pitch. I swung… and fucking missed.

  Calvin, that dick.

  “You need to let him figure out how to read the batters on his own, Daddy,” I taunted Calvin in the dugout.

  He shook his head, smiled, and flipped me off.

  The rest of the team had arrived several days ago, so my shoulder got a break from the excessive swinging at Luke’s wild pitches. Our first exhibition game was coming up, against the Yankees of all teams. It was going to be a home game; one played in the newly built stadium just a short drive from the beach. After our first game, we would be travelling to Fort Myers, a great place for finding sexy spring breakers. My balls were about to explode. That chick behind the bar at the hotel was looking better and better each night.

  I showered quickly at the stadium, didn’t wait around for anyone to catch up with me, and headed back to the hotel in a cab waiting outside. I wanted to be left alone.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and stared at the screen. It was Eve, my sister. Hell, I never did listen to the voice mail she left, better not ignore her again.

  “Hey, Eve.”

  “It’s about time you answered your fucking phone. Did you get my message?”

  And she wonders why I don’t answer.

  “Always a pleasure, Eve. What can I do for you?” I asked in my annoying little brother voice she hated so badly.

  “Ace, it’s Dad.” Her voice softened from its usual bitchy tone.

  Nausea rose in my throat. That man was not a dad. He was a tyrant who beat me down as a child and tried every chance he got as a man. No matter how hard I tried, it was never good enough. Never.

  The long pause made me ready myself for the news of his death. I listened to my sister clear her throat and knew she was crying. Oh shit, the old man’s dead.

  “Can you come home?” Her voice cracked as she spoke.

  “When’s the funeral?” I asked.

  “Ace. He’s not dead, but he’s dying.”

  Pity punched me in the gut, then irritation followed. How could I feel pity for that man?

  When I was a child, my knuckles would crack and bleed as I stood shivering in the batting cage, hitting ball after ball from that machine. Snow. Rain. Blazing hot sun. It didn’t matter.

  He sat under the protection of the awning in his old green lawn chair, drinking cheap beer while criticizing — he called it “teaching” — every move I made. My brother, Brady, took a lashing from the old man too, but once dear old dad realized that Brady didn’t have any talent, he was ignored… completely. There were many days I wished I didn’t have any talent either. Or that I didn’t love the game.

  But I was eager and wanted to please my daddy, so I practiced, even when he didn’t force me. I wanted to be the best. I wanted to make him proud. Even when he embarrassed me by yelling at the umps during little league, or the time he punched my coach for sitting me out for a broken thumb.

  “You’re turning him into a little pussy. He won’t ever make it big if you let him off that easy.” Then he cut off the cast and shoved me onto the field.

  I guess I should thank the mean old snot for pushing me so hard. If it weren’t for him, I wasn’t sure I’d be where I am today. But, even that didn’t impress him.

  “I made it, Dad.” I was so proud when I told him about my first selection. It was the minors, but I was going straight out of high school and felt like I’d just stepped into a goldmine.

  He’d smiled at me smugly. “See, I know all that teaching I did for you would pay off. Who’re ya playing for? And how much you making?”

  “The RiverDogs. Team minimum, but…”

  I never finished my sentence because the look of disappointment on Dad’s face stole the words. “The minors?” he finally said, his tone low and bitter. “You mean I sacrificed my time and my money, and you’re excited by the minors?”

  “It’s still the Yankees, Dad,” I argued, wasting my breath. “A couple years and I—”

  “A couple years and you’ll be flipping burgers. You fucked up your chances at college because you couldn’t get the grades.”

  “I couldn’t get the grades because every hour of every day of my life was spent trying to impress you.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Impress me? Well, you certainly failed at that one, didn’t ya. Just like you failed at everything else. The minors… that’s bullshit. What am I supposed to say to the guys in the office? Guess what, my dumb fuck kid made
a dumb fuck team that nobody’s dumb fucked heard of, making dumb fucked enough money to do dumb fucked nothing? That’s what I’m supposed to tell ‘em?”

  “How about telling them that you’re proud of me?” I offered and immediately regretted saying the words.

  He snorted and slapped his thigh, finding my statement absolutely hilarious. “Tell me that when you’re playing for the bigs.”

  I did make it to the bigs, sooner than anyone expected, then was traded around a lot before settling in Atlanta. Even then, Dad would be in the stands, cursing the umps and me. Nothing and nobody was ever good enough. Eventually, I’d had him banned, which made me end up looking like a bad guy. The tabloids loved it, eating up the “I gave up everything to make sure my kid got to play and look how he repaid me” bullshit story my father served them.

  It just made me hate him and the world even more.

  The only really good person in my life was my mom. She would smooth ointment on my aching muscles and tell me to never give up. When she died…

  Why the fuck is it always the mothers who die? Almost every damn Disney movie ever written has the mother dying and then everything goes to hell for the kid. Of course, my life had been nothing close to a fairytale. I was nobody’s prince and happy ever after was a lie we’d been sold one broken promise at a time.

  “Ace, are you still there?” Eve asked, and I relaxed my grip on the phone. Dammit, I needed to get over this shit.

  “Yeah. I’m here. I’m in Florida right now, Eve. Spring training just started. I’m already on the coach’s bad side, so I can’t take off, not right now.”

  “Ace, this is your father, your family. You have to set your priorities.”

  And there was the reason I refused to go home. She was a royal pain in the ass. After mom passed away, she became worse, taking on the pressure of keeping the family together. What she didn’t realize was that with Mom gone, there was no family.

  “This is my career,” I snapped. “You know, the one that pays for your house and your car and that private school for my niece and nephew. The one that pays for all of Dad’s expenses. Isn’t that enough?”