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

by Alice Ward

  “How in the hell were you ever a cheerleader? You have absolutely no rhythm,” I teased. I scribbled dance lessons onto the itinerary for the day. “Look up a few different dance studios you’d like to visit.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Wow. It’s like that?”

  “Yes. It’s exactly like that. You need to save yourself some embarrassment and learn a few moves before you get out there on the dance floor in front of God and half of New York.”

  I scooted out my chair, gripped my notebook, and worked on pushing Whitney out of the house to get this day started. “We have a ton to do before the wedding. I thought you’d planned all this already,” I complained good-naturedly. I wasn’t really complaining. November was still six months away.

  She and Calvin had selected the Eventi in Manhattan, an upscale venue, that still allowed for a more intimate setting that suited them best. They’d chosen the end of November because it would be during the off season and give them a few months of wedded bliss before spring training hit again.

  “I did plan it already. Part of the planning is planning the planning.” She smiled at her own cleverness.

  I had to roll my eyes at that.

  “Scratch off chairs. Eventi has the ones I want.”

  “So, dance studios and floral shops. Later, we’ll look online and choose a cake style you like, and I’ll order anything special I’ll need.”

  “Sounds good. Oh, add lunch to the list. I’m starving.” She rubbed her belly.

  It was barely past breakfast, but I was feeling hunger pains too. “Okay, brunch is top priority.”

  Whitney grabbed her coat and her car keys, stood by the door and tapped her foot. “Ya comin’ or what?”

  “You are a bridezilla,” I teased.

  It was nice being out on the town with Whitney. It was still cold, and snow was clumped up along the sidewalks, dark and nasty, but there was still something magical about the city.

  By mid-afternoon, we’d blown through half my list and had even stopped at a few places I thought would be the perfect location for my own bakery some day.

  “What do you think of Holly’s Tasty Cakes?” I asked her and she waggled her hand. I laughed. “I know, it’s kind of tacky.” I peeked up at her through my lashes so I could catch her response to my next statement. “Ace offered to buy a bakery for me.”

  Her face morphed into sympathy. “Oh, Holly.”

  “Yeah, he wanted it to be called Ace’s Cake Batter.”

  “That’s cute.”

  I nodded. “I told him no, then he counter offered. Asked me if he straightened himself up, would I let him buy me one then.”

  Tears swimming in her eyes, Whitney pulled me to her, hugging me tight.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, Holly, but I really do wish he could straighten up, and the two of you could be together.”

  “Really?”

  I could feel her nod. “I’m just afraid it will never happen.”

  Blowing out a breath, I agreed, “Me too.”

  Hooking her arm through mine, we kept walking until we came upon a little diner. The burgers looked greasy, the fries crisp, and the shakes thick and delicious. We settled into a booth and placed an order.

  Her phone pinged, and she pulled it out of her purse. Her eyes brightened. “Do you want to try on your dress?” Whitney asked.

  “Yes!” That was the part I’d been waiting for.

  I’d seen pictures, but I hadn’t had the gown on yet. It was special order, and Whitney’s message told her it had arrived just an hour ago.

  “I love this neighborhood.” I dipped a fry into my chocolate shake and stared out the large window. It was nostalgic but not run down. All the businesses on the street were family owned, and it perfectly catered to both middle class and upper scale consumers without any discrimination.

  “This is where I would love for my bakery to be.” I daydreamed about the perfect building, painted a frosted pink, white icing décor for the trim that looked good enough to eat. I would place all my special creations in the large glass window, luring everyone inside for a taste.

  “What about that place?” Whitney pointed to the building across the street.

  It was tall and narrow, just like I wanted. Two-story, so I could have storage space and working space for cookies, cupcakes, and fondant designs.

  “Oh my God, that would be perfect.”

  Whitney finished the last bite of her burger and left me at the table while she walked outside to get the number from the window. “It’s for sale,” she announced, sitting back down at the orange booth.

  “Ugh.”

  “What ugh?” she asked.

  “Sale, not lease.”

  “So?”

  I stared at her. “So? Well, Miss Baseball Millionaire To Be, that just means my probably can’t afford it just skyrocketed to definitely can’t afford it.”

  “But if you buy it, you can do what you want with it,” Whitney argued.

  “Well then, let me pull out my checkbook and write them a check,” I teased. “Then we can make a bet on how high it will bounce.”

  “I told you I wanted to help you start this up,” she said. “Calvin and I have both talked about it and think it would be a terrific investment.”

  “You’ve done so much for me already.” Tears pricked my eyes. “And what if it fails? I don’t want that pressure of having to be successful enough to pay you back.”

  “I wouldn’t care if you took fifty years to pay me back. As long as you were doing something you loved.” She waggled her brows. “And I got free cake every week.”

  Whitney was designing offices for Rhett, and I knew he paid her well, but not well enough for her to put up money for a building, so the money would come from Calvin. I couldn’t do that. It just didn’t feel right to me.

  Whitney was already on the phone with the agent, requesting a time to see inside and to find out more about the building. I kept waving my hands in front of her face, begging her to just hang up, but she wouldn’t. I didn’t want to see inside. It was perfect. I knew it would be. I also knew I couldn’t afford it.

  “That will be great. See you then.” She disconnected the call and smiled wildly. “She’s in the neighborhood and can meet us there in ten minutes.”

  I was excited too, but suddenly sick.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “No.” I scooted from the booth and rushed to the bathroom.

  There was nothing classier than throwing up in a public restroom, especially one that wasn’t private. As I tossed my lunch into the commode, I could see saggy stockings on a pair of thick older legs in the stall next to me. She must love this ambiance.

  Whitney helped me with my hair, holding it from my face. She wetted towels to cool me down and even offered up an apologetic look to the old lady who frowned at me as she left her stall.

  “What was that about?” Whitney asked.

  “I don’t know. Chronic disappointment,” I deadpanned.

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re stressing out too much. Let’s just go look at the place for fun. No pressure.”

  “I can deal with that.”

  She had already paid the bill, so I left a ten-dollar bill on the table as we walked out. “That tip was more than your lunch,” Whitney said.

  “It’s a family-owned business.” I smiled and gripped onto Whitney’s arm as she pulled me across the street.

  A white Cadillac pulled up in front of the building, and a well-dressed woman with golden blonde hair stepped out of the driver’s seat. “Are you Beverly?” Whitney asked.

  “Yes.” She extended her hand to Whitney first, and then to me.

  She was over the top, this agent. She had a southern drawl that could peel paint from the walls. Her perfume was so thick it almost choked you to get within five feet of her. That could possibly be a survival tactic for the city. But she was friendly and super excited about the idea of a bakery being added to the street.

&nb
sp; “The price is super reasonable,” she said.

  Someone who dressed the way she did, drove a brand new Cadillac, and had more money in diamonds on her left hand than my entire family had earned in a lifetime, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what she considered super reasonable.

  “Let’s look inside before we talk price,” Whitney said, reading my mind.

  Not daring to hope, I turned toward the red wooden door with large display windows on either side. “I think this was once a deli,” the realtor said as she opened the door.

  Inside it was perfect, just as I hoped it wouldn’t be. I knew the super reasonable price would be super ridiculous, but I was in love.

  Upstairs was roomy, plenty of ventilation, and even had a dumb waiter for delivering stuff from floor to floor. “This is exactly what I want some day,” I whispered to Whitney.

  “Okay, so what is this super reasonable price?” Whitney cut right to the chase.

  “This building has been on the market for over a month, so the owners just reduced the price. For complete ownership, rights, licenses for food distribution and equipment, its bundled at an even two million.”

  I gasped when I heard the price. I was freaking out about the possibility of two hundred thousand dollars. Two million was super reasonable?

  “That’s actually much less than the average asking price per square foot in this area,” she added, like that was helpful.

  “Maybe New York isn’t the place for me to start my business,” I whispered, still cringing at the price tag.

  “The foot traffic here is incredible, and it’s a desirable shopping location for surrounding neighborhoods. There are no other bakeries within four miles, which is unheard of as far as competition ratio per square block in this city.”

  She did make two million sound like a hell of a deal. No wonder she drove that fancy car.

  Whitney took her card and told her we’d be in touch. I was just glad to be out of there.

  “Wow. I think I’ll go back to Indiana. I could get that building for sixty thousand.”

  “Yeah. And you’d have how many customers in a day? You pay for the revenue generation of the area, girl.” Whitney sounded so professional.

  On our way back to Whitney’s car, I saw a homeless man sitting on a bench, and my thoughts automatically went to Ace.

  “Wait a second,” I told Whit.

  Digging in my purse, I pulled out one of the hundred dollar bills that had magically appeared there before I left Florida.

  “What are you—?”

  I lifted a wait a minute finger and walked over to the man. Tears pricked my eyes when I saw the military emblem on his jacket. My throat was so clogged that I couldn’t say a word, so I just pressed the money into his hand instead.

  He lifted his green eyes to me, shame resting inside them, and nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. Very much.”

  I touched his shoulder. “Good luck,” I said before walking away.

  Tears were in Whitney’s eyes when I got back to her, and she looped her arm through mine. “Ace would be proud,” she said, and I nodded, glad that, if nothing else, he’d opened my eyes to the people I once saw as transparent.

  ***

  The next couple of weeks flew by, and Whitney and I accomplished everything in my notebook. The décor was chosen, the dresses were tried on and absolutely gorgeous. The only thing left was selecting from the caterer’s tasting menu, and they were bringing it to the house when Calvin got home from spring training.

  He’d called every night to talk to Whitney, but I hadn’t heard a word from Ace. I didn’t want to ask Whitney to get an update for me, fearful that she’d think I was caving. I wasn’t. I wanted what she had, the happily ever after, not the guy who ordered the happy ending at the massage parlor.

  “Okay, our girls’ night out party,” I announced as I rudely entered Whitney’s kitchen without knocking on the back door. I wasn’t sure what I’d do when Calvin got home. I was growing accustomed to making myself at home in their place, including soaking in their enormous jetted tub in the master bath.

  Hannah was on her way, the girls from Whitney’s list were all showing up together, and I assumed exactly on time because they were all perfect. My nerves were such a mess that I’d gotten sick twice and wasn’t feeling too great even then. I didn’t have much money, but I didn’t feel right asking women I didn’t know to chip in, so I’d done the best I could on a budget.

  It was very stressful to hang out with women who had millions of dollars in their bank accounts. Two of our school friends couldn’t make it because of money, which was a shame. I was just thankful that Hannah was going to be there. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know anyone but Whitney.

  “You look gorgeous,” I gasped as Whitney came down the stairs. Her white cocktail dress had a tulle underskirt that pushed it out, making it super flowy. The rest of us women were wearing the wedding colors, purple and sage, perfect for fall. I was thankful I’d got the purple gown. Sage was not my color.

  “Thank you,” she said, spinning to show off her dress.

  Hannah arrived early, and the others arrived right on time. We all piled into a limo someone rented for the night. Whitney screamed when she saw the Chippendale’s sign all lit up. She had been telling me since she was fourteen that she was going to marry a Chippendale dancer — well, until she met Calvin that is — and I’d let that secret slip to one of the girlfriends. We had front row seats. They were so close to the action you could smell the sweat that dripped onto the floor.

  After the dancers pulled Whitney up on stage and teased her until she nearly exploded, we all headed to the first bar on the route of six total. I handed out scavenger hunt cards to each of the ladies. While most of the player’s wives and girlfriends snubbed their noses and rolled their eyes at the silly game, Whitney loved it and paired with me and Hannah.

  By the fourth bar, we’d completed the hunt and the other girls eventually loosened up. I sipped on ginger ale, my stomach too unsettled for anything stronger.

  ***

  “Whitney!”

  My best friend leaped to her feet and cried out her joy as Calvin walked into her kitchen. It had been wonderful to have these past weeks with Whitney, but the girl had worn me out and I was looking forward to slipping into my pajamas and lounging around all day with nothing to do, and no one to entertain.

  Hannah had stayed with me for a week, and I missed her. Not only did she help with wedding plans, I loved having her with me and hated seeing her go back to Dad.

  “Thanks for taking care of Whitney so well,” he said to me, pulling me into a hug. “She’s bragged on you every night.”

  I loved that we were becoming even closer. He was protective like the big brother I never had, and even fatherly at times, another male figure that was lacking in my life.

  “How’s Ace?” I asked while Whitney was in the shower.

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure he’s good.”

  My heart sank. “Drugs?”

  “Maybe. It’s hard to tell. He’s so moody, and so all over the place.”

  “On top of everything else, I’m so worried he’ll be caught,” I admitted. “How does he get around the drug tests?”

  “Well, recreational drugs are tested differently from performance-enhancing drugs. We’re tested regularly for things like steroids, but they only test for recreational drugs if a problem is reported.”

  “Has he said anything about his father?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “No, why?” Calvin asked and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge.

  I was surprised that he didn’t know.

  “His dad is dying, and his sister didn’t know how long he had left. He talked about going to see him if he lasted until after spring training.”

  Calvin frowned. “That might explain some of his downward spiral. I’d heard rumors that he and his dad didn’t get along.”

  I was surprised that he knew about that but didn’t elaborate further.
Instead, I simply nodded, not wanting to share the private things Ace had told me.

  My phone vibrated as Calvin poured a glass of wine for Whitney and carried it upstairs. I was ready to make myself scarce so they could catch up on lost time. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and read the text.

  Jack: I’ve missed your beautiful smile. :)

  I found it peculiar, and even a little annoying that I’d spent months yearning for this type of treatment from Ace. Now that someone else was giving it to me, it wasn’t satisfying. Ace was moving on and hooking up, I was certain of that. Why was I stuck in park?

  Me: Glad to hear you guys are back. Everyone make it out alive?”

  Jack: Oh yes. A few bumps, but all good. We are ready to clinch the championship this season…count on it! :)

  Every time I tried to get anything out of him about Ace, it was useless. And those smiley faces on every text. They drove me nuts, and I had no idea why.

  Me: Good to hear.

  Jack: Drinks? :)

  I was already walking out of Whitney and Calvin’s back door and towards my little cottage. My frog pajamas were freshly washed, my bottle of wine chilled in the fridge, and a few Redbox movies I’d rented were on the TV stand in my bedroom. I planned on starting a fire, watching a chick flick. I wasn’t leaving the house. Possibly for days.

  Jack: I won’t keep you out late. :)

  Damn. Give a girl time to say no.

  Me: Already in pajamas. Not leaving the house tonight or possibly ever again.

  Jack: I like staying in. I can bring drinks. :)

  Me: Chick flicks and popcorn ready to go.

  I wondered if I should tell him I was feeling sick and would be drinking herbal tea. But before I could type anything else, my phone beeped.

  Jack: On my way :)

  What the fuck? Did that sound like an invite? I reread my text three times. I didn’t see that as an invite.

  Jack: In the guest house behind Whitney and Calvin, right?

  That was seriously the first text I’d received without a damn smiley face. What should I do? It might be nice to have a little company, and I hated to tell him no. I sighed.