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

by Alice Ward

  “Darlin’,” he’d said with his patented smirk. “When the fuck are you going to say yes?”

  How could a girl turn that down?

  The Beasts won the playoffs with Ace fiercely defending his space on the field and killing almost every ball that was pitched to him. But in the end, they’d lost in the sixth game of the series, losing by one run.

  It was heartbreaking.

  Ace took it hard. We all did. The entire city did.

  But everybody was proud too.

  It had only been the Beasts second season. To get that far with such a new team was amazing. And who knew… maybe the third year would be the charm.

  There had only been one little hiccup to everyone’s post season bliss, and that was when Rhett introduced the team’s new catcher — Todd Morris. The Todd Morris, one of the guys Whitney dated when she and Calvin were apart. The Todd Morris, who had hit the pitch that hurt Calvin’s arm. The Todd Morris, who was standing among the Beasts right now, supporting his new teammates but looking at Whitney a little wistfully, I thought.

  Next season would be very, very interesting. Todd catching for Calvin? I stifled my grin, then stifled a groan when a pain shot through my stomach.

  Braxton Hicks. I’d been having them for about a week now.

  The wedding was perfection, and by the time it was over, not a dry eye was in the house. Soon, we were whisked away to the reception

  The food was served, toasts were made, and the wedding party joined the new couple on the dance floor after their first dance. I was so happy for Whitney and for Calvin too. They were the very definition of happiness. And when Ace took me in his arms, I knew we looked just as happy.

  The wedding cake turned out incredible, and there was much chatter about it from the wives and girlfriends milling about. I knew it would explode my business, making me even more grateful for my sister, who was taking over the running of the bakery while I was on maternity leave. I’d already hired two experienced bakers to help with the demand.

  Glancing around, I smiled to see Hannah in Jack’s arms. They were doing really well together, and thankfully, Jack and Ace had become friends. Everything in my life was perfect.

  Ooooouch.

  Except for these stupid contractions.

  “Are you okay?” Ace asked, looking concerned and I forced a bright smile on my face.

  “Absolutely. I just hope the real contractions aren’t too much worse than these Braxton ones,” I muttered. “That one hurt like hell.”

  “Are you sure they aren’t real ones?” he asked, his hands moving to my belly while everyone danced around us.

  I nodded. “My due date is still a week away. And this baby had better not dare spoil Whitney’s day.” I pointed a finger at my bump. “Hear that, buster?”

  As if in acknowledgment, the baby gave me a kick, right on the bladder, making me almost pee myself.

  Ace was still looking at me in concern, so I forced myself to relax in his arms. We were beginning to draw attention, especially from Whitney who was mouthing are you okay?

  I smiled and nodded at her, then murmured to Ace, “Dance with me.”

  As he whirled — okay, waddled — me around the dance floor, my thoughts drifted to the old hotel Ace bought and was renovating for homeless vets. He’d strong armed every player to chip in, Rhett too, and when we went by to see it last week, it looked almost ready for the men to move in.

  “Why was there a glass room in the courtyard?” I asked him.

  “What?”

  “At the Beast’s Den. There was a glass room. It didn’t look like a green house, and I’ve been thinking about its purpose.”

  His smile was so sexy as he looked down at me. “It’s a room for Oscar. He’s a vet who can’t stand being in enclosed spaces. There will be curtains he can pull for privacy if he wants.”

  “That’s really nice.”

  Ace kissed my forehead, then kept his lips pressed there. “He’s a good guy.”

  “You’re a good guy.”

  I felt him smile against my skin. “Never thought I’d hear that come from anybody’s lips.”

  By the time Whitney and Calvin ran through the flying rose petals, I was exhausted. I’d taken off my shoes hours ago because my feet were beginning to resemble little pigs. Ace brought me another glass of sparkling grape juice, then tapped his juice glass against mine.

  “Love is blind,” he said, his grin growing broader, “marriage is the bifocals.”

  I swatted him on the stomach, but couldn’t disagree. “But not us, right?”

  “Honey, our eyes have been wide open for a long time now. We’ve seen everything of each other, good and bad.”

  Another contraction hit me, this one like the force of a train. God, it hurt. I looked up at him. “I have a feeling you’re about to see another side of me… soon.”

  ***

  “Breathe, Holly. You can do this.”

  I looked up into Ace’s face and snarled. “Shut up, you asshole. This is your fault. Your fault! Aggghhh….” Then I was crying and begging him to forgive me for calling him an asshole. A minute later, I was cussing him out again.

  Labor had turned me into a crazy person. Bi-polar mixed with homicidal tendencies with a splash of raging lunatic thrown in.

  “Epidural,” I screamed. “Now!”

  “Holly,” Ace said calmly, “You specifically told me you wanted to do this—”

  I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down until we were face to face. “Now!” I hissed.

  He looked scared. Good.

  “Holly, I need to check you,” the nurse said. “You’re progressing really quickly, so an epidural might not be possible.”

  Not possible?

  Did she just say not possible?

  I slapped my thighs closed. “Just call the anesthesiologist. I’m not progressing too quickly.” I smiled at her, and she backed away. “I promise.”

  The nurse, Ginger, looked at Ace. “She’s having what we call precipitous labor, which means everything is happening very quickly.”

  “That’s good,” he said, “right?”

  Ginger shook her head. “It sounds great, but Holly’s body is transitioning so quickly that she’s having trouble keeping up. Also, her body hasn’t had time to release the pain-relieving natural endorphins that come with conventional labor. She’s experiencing this… raw.”

  They stopped talking as another contraction hit me, both of them hovering like flies that I wanted to smack away. Finally, I could breathe again and heard Ginger say, “I’m seeing some fetal distress which isn’t unusual with this type of rapid labor.” She put her hand on my leg. “Holly, I need to check you. Now.”

  Another contraction hit and I could hear Ace, but I couldn’t see him anymore. The pain was blinding. All consuming. Then it began to recede.

  “Okay, open up,” Ginger said and told Ace to hold one of my legs. He kept murmuring encouragement, telling me how great and brave I was. I wanted to reach over and wrap his balls around his dick.

  “She’s ready to push,” Ginger said just as Whitney came flying into the room. Her hair was still piled into her wedding style, but she was wearing yoga pants and what looked like one of Calvin’s sweatshirts. Calvin skidded to a halt right behind her.

  “I’m so sorry,” I cried out to them. “It’s your wedding night, and I’ve ruined it.”

  Ginger said, “The doctor is coming. Don’t push.”

  As if her words had penetrated my abdomen, the urge to do just that suddenly hit me. Another vice gripped my belly, and I screamed into the pain.

  “Oh my God, is she okay?” It was Hannah, Jack right behind her.

  “Get out!” Demons had possessed my soul, or at least that was how it seemed.

  Whitney whirled around, shoving Calvin and Jack from the room while yanking Hannah farther inside.

  “I’m sorry!” I started crying again, feeling totally out of control. My entire body was shaking, and I couldn’t make it st
op.

  “She’s experiencing a type of shock,” I heard Ginger say. “Also some minor hemorrhaging. I’m calling OR for a possible section.”

  Strong hands clamped down on my shoulders and Ace bent down until we were face to face. “Holly. If you need to scream, do it. If you need to punch me, do it. I’m here, and I’m not leaving you. Do you hear me?”

  My teeth were chattering. “Y-y-yes.”

  The vice was back, clamping down. Someone else came into the room. People were talking, but all I could hear was Ace’s voice — I love you. You’re doing so great. You’re a beast. I’m so proud.

  “We need to get this baby out.”

  “She’s crowning.”

  “Holly, push!”

  I bore down with all my strength as someone started counting.

  “Push!”

  I bore down again.

  “Push!”

  Oh God, is that poop?

  “It’s okay. It happens to everyone,” Ginger said as she wiped it away.

  “One more push, Holly. Give me everything you’ve got.”

  With Ace’s strong arm around me, holding me up in an almost sitting position, I pushed, and a rush of ecstasy ran through me as the baby’s head appeared.

  “Good job, Holly,” the doctor was saying. “One more gentle push.”

  I bore down, and watched the baby turn, then watched it slither out of me in a rush.

  And it was over.

  The pain was gone. The worry. The fear.

  Nothing mattered but the slimy little creature in the doctor’s hands and the man crying beside me.

  The doctor announced that we had a boy, a son, and Ace and I looked at each other, love in the form of tears streaming from our eyes.

  “A boy,” I mouthed to him.

  “A son,” he mouthed back.

  And we smiled. And cried, together, including our new little man as they placed him on my stomach, goo and all, and I wrapped my arms around my son while Ace wrapped his arms around us both.

  ***

  Two hours later, the horror of my labor experience had faded away, like a nightmare does upon waking. The doctor had been able to get my bleeding under control without surgery, for which I was grateful.

  I smiled, watching Ace walking our tightly swaddled baby around the room, telling him things I couldn’t hear. He was perfect, and I couldn’t have been happier.

  Whitney and Calvin had gotten in their cuddle time before heading back to their wedding night. Hannah was the proudest aunt I’d ever seen.

  I’d apologized to Ginger for calling her a heartless bitch, which I only vaguely remembered doing. I also apologized to the doctor for pooping on him, which I remembered clearly.

  Now it was just us, my little family

  “What do you think about Rip?” I asked Ace, and he smiled down at his son.

  “Rip Newman, huh?” he baby talked, making my heart turn to jelly. “You like that name? You gonna rip a baseball outta the park someday, little man?”

  The baby farted, and we both laughed.

  “I think that’s a yes.”

  Moving back to the bed, Ace placed him back in my arms, then climbed on the bed with me. He kissed my forehead, then my cheek, then my lips.

  “You saved me, you know?”

  Tears pricked the back of my eyes, and I looked up at him. “You saved me too.”

  I’m not sure how long we just sat there, gazing down at our son. Laughing when he scrunched up his nose. Panicking when he made a sound.

  I didn’t know how to be a mother. Ace didn’t know how to be a dad.

  As I gazed into the blue eyes of our baby, I promised him we’d do our best to figure it out.

  It was like little Rip heard my promise and understood because one side of his little mouth lifted. A smirk. Just like his father.

  When he closed his eyes, I closed mine too.

  Safe in the arms of the man I loved.

  THE END

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  MORE FROM THIS SERIES

  Rookie Mistake (The Beasts of Baseball - Book One)

  Can Calvin, the rookie star of the Beasts, pitch his way out of trouble… on and off the field?

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  Continue on to read a sneak peek bonus of Rookie Mistake (The Beasts of Baseball - Book One)!

  A SPECIAL SNEAK PEEK

  ROOKIE MISTAKE (THE BEASTS OF BASEBALL - BOOK ONE)

  ALICE WARD

  Chapter One

  Calvin

  I’d dreamed of this day, for how long I couldn’t even remember. I knew I was a boy, maybe seven, watching the New York Yankees play against… who was it? I couldn’t recall, but I remembered the excitement that soared through my grandfather’s living room that afternoon.

  My pops, grandfather, and I were all rooting them on. The way my pops screamed at the TV, you would have thought he was right there in the action, hoping to get their attention as he yelled for them to run! When they won, he grabbed me by the waist and lifted me high in the air.

  “You’re a man now, my boy!” he shouted, then gave me a sip of his beer. It was bitter and almost made me sick to swallow, but I did, because I was a man. After that day, I knew I would one day be a man like the ones wearing the blue striped uniforms. I was going to be a major league baseball player. I was certain of it.

  Right now, I felt more like a pussy because my damn hands trembled as I took my first steps towards the pitching mound of the gleaming new stadium, sweat streaming down my face in rivers.

  That was okay. Rookie nerves. That was me — a rookie. For the newest and most badass team in the majors.

  I made it!

  “Welcome to the New York Beasts,” a man with a sun-crinkled face and large potbelly greeted me. “I’m Coach Griffin.” I extended my hand, hoping that it wasn’t covered in sweat from my anxiety and greeted my new coach. “I’ve heard great things about you.”

  “Thank you, sir, it’s a pleasure to be here,” I said, trying to keep the awe from my voice.

  Last year, I’d been thrilled to find myself in the minors straight out of college and had worked my ass off to deserve a spot on a team. Then, out of nowhere, I got the call that I’d be a replacement pitcher for the Beasts. One of their starters was in an accident that ended his career, and they wanted me to replace him.

  Me.

  And now I was standing on the mound where I would pitch for New York’s newest team. It wasn’t the Yankees, but I knew my pops would be proud nonetheless.

  “Let’s introduce you to your team,” Coach Griffin suggested with a pat on my back and a nod towards the dugout and the locker room beyond.

  “Listen up, fellas!” Coach Griffin yelled into the chaotic locker room that was larger than most people’s entire home. The main portion was a gigantic oval featuring six-feet wide lockers surrounding the perimeter. Each locker boasted a massaging leather chair and recessed television and sound system with personal headphones to keep the noise to a minimum. There were doors leading to bathrooms, a state-of-the-art weight room, as well as areas for physical therapy and recovery. The clubhouse also featured a high-tech theater with enough seating for the entire team to review post-game analysis. I’d never seen anything like it.

  The men didn’t seem to notice or pay attention, so Coach pulled out his whistle and gave it a long, hard blow. “I want you to meet one of our new starting pitchers.”

  The men calmed, and the room became eerily quiet as their eyes fell upon me. They all began walking toward the central meeting area. I looked around, somewhat intimidated to meet the group directly in the eye, but with so many in various stages of undress, looking down put me in a very uncomfortable position as well.

  “This is Calvin Malone,�
�� Coach announced, again patting me on the back.

  There was a round of handshakes and head nods, then the men went back to their lockers, getting ready for practice. Coach led me to the locker with Calvin Malone engraved at the top, pointing out the stacks of practice gear and cleats. My days of washing my own uniform were over.

  “You’re gonna do fine, Calvin. Just keep your chin up, your nose clean, and your eye on the ball, kid,” Coach Griffin said with encouragement. “Practice starts in twenty minutes!” I watched as he exited the locker room.

  “So, you’re the new star pitcher?” a voice sounded from behind me. I turned, instantly recognizing Ace Newman, star shortstop and power hitter. His leathered skin didn’t take away from his rugged good looks, and the small goatee that dangled from his chin as he chomped on his gum only seemed to add to his powerful presence.

  “Yep, I’m Calvin Malone,” I introduced myself, extending my hand to shake his.

  “I got that, kid,” he said as he glanced down at my hand that now was left awkwardly extended between us. “Where’d ya come from?”

  “Indiana,” I replied, yanking my hand back and shoving my fists into my pockets.

  “No shit, that’s written all over your corn-fed face,” he said, half-laughing as he spoke. “I meant what team?”

  “Well, I graduated from the Red Hawks last year and was all set to play triple A for the Beasts, but got the call to come here before I even played my first game.”

  “Whooweeee, so you’re practically a college drafted starting pitcher, you must have one helluva arm on ya.” Sarcasm oozed from Ace’s lips as easily as his drawl. He leaned over, spit his gum into the trash can by my feet and then grinned. “Stick with me, kid. I’ll show ya the ropes around here.”

  I was psyched that Ace Newman was a fellow Beast. A notorious player, he had a short fuse and loud temper. He spent plenty of time screaming in the umpires’ face, throwing bats against the fence, and even threatening other players. He was a wild card, but one of the best players in the league. I knew very little about the owner, Rhett Hamilton, and had yet to meet him, but if he had the money to score Ace Newman, and the balls to try and control him, then he must be a pretty powerful player himself.