CONTENTS
Copyright
Title Page
Connect with Danielle Slater
Connect with Nora Lane
Freebie for Finding Errors
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Entitled Excerpt
Made Excerpt
Connect with Danielle Slater
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About Danielle Slater
About Nora Lane
Copyright © 2016 Danielle Slater, Nora Lane
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the authors’ imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.
BALLS
A Cruz Boys Novel
Danielle Slater
Nora Lane
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CHAPTER ONE
Prologue – Alexis
Every girl dreamed about her perfect wedding day, right down to the cream taffeta dress and the strategic reception-dinner seating arrangements—the one that ensured Uncle GetsTooDrunk and Cousin LovesToFight never ended up anywhere near each other. I was no different.
I had it all planned it out.
Today was going to be perfect.
Except for this damn mascara!
I was nearly in tears, but there was no way I was letting them add to this catastrophe. I paid forty dollars for a tube of Armani Eyes to Kill Excess and the least I could expect was to get smooth, long, luscious lashes.
Not hideous black clumps.
It looked like an oil tanker ran aground and dropped its load on my eyelashes. I was just waiting for the animal rescue squad to show up and hose me down.
I touched up in the mirror and saw the door to the bride’s room open in the reflection. Megan Price swept in like a vision wearing a lilac bridesmaid dress that accentuated her fashionably beanpole frame. A pink chiffon wrap hung around her pale shoulders.
Her shoulder-length auburn hair puffed out in ringlets that refused to ever be ironed straight. Her emerald eyes contrasted beautifully with the halo of curls around her head.
We couldn’t have been more different, on the surface.
“Sorry, I had to pee so bad. This UTI is killing me,” she said.
“You know, it might help if you stop having sex for a couple of hours while it clears up.”
“Thank you, Mother Teresa. I’ll be sure to do that and also say my rosary ten times.”
“Sister, please. I’m trying to help your body. I know your soul is a lost cause.”
I smirked at her, despite the gobs of black goo shading my mood.
“You catty trollop!” Megan grinned and came up behind me. She reached for the mascara applicator. “Let the pros do what the pros do.”
“Yeah, that’s why you have that infection in the first place.”
“I’m talking about your mascara.”
I let her wrestle it from my hand with only the barest hint of resistance. I couldn’t have been happier to let someone else take over. Just as I was ready to let my fiancé, Robert, take the reins as soon as our wedding day was over.
Well, take over was a relative concept. Have more input, for a while at least.
The last seven months of my life had been an exhausting exercise in elaborate planning. Robert had let me take the lead with all of the details. Something for which I was usually grateful, and occasionally resentful. But in the end, it worked because this was our perfect day.
“Where’s Taylor?” I asked. I distinctly remembered starting the morning with two bridesmaids–my two best friends in the world. And one was now MIA.
Megan shook her head. “She was still on the toilet when I left. Said she knocked back too many Jägers last night at the rehearsal dinner.”
“I blame Robert,” I said. “He egged her on all evening.”
Megan brushed the last bits of gunk from my lashes and smiled. “There you go.”
I looked in the mirror and saw with delight my amber brown eyes staring through impossibly long lashes.
Smooth lashes.
“You’re a miracle worker, Megs!”
I twirled around in front of the body-length mirror, trying to catch any last little thing that might throw off my perfect day.
Megan stopped me halfway around. “Will you stop already? You look amazing. Your flawless mocha skin against that cream dress is giving me a lady boner.”
My mouth gaped open and a giggle tumbled out.
“I’m not kidding,” she said. “If I was a dude, I’d have you bent over that old granny floral couch with your round asscheeks in my hands.”
She lowered her hands in front of her and grabbed the air, which was apparently my imaginary backside. She pumped her hips forward and then slapped the air where presumably one of my cheeks resided. “I’d make it so you couldn’t walk in the morning. You’d waddle around like a penguin after a marathon. Your tender bits would chafe like they’d been ridden hard and put up wet.”
My giggles turned to laughter and I would’ve bent over and slapped my knee if the shrink-wrapped dress had any kind of give in it. As it was, I laughed until the bodice began to pinch into my ribs and hurt a little.
When the laughter subsided, the cauldron in my belly resumed its bubbling and boiling. People said it was butterflies in your belly, but that didn’t cover it by a quarter. I had moths swarming like a tornado. Those big fat, hairy ones that make your stomach queasy.
The tips of my fingers had that numb tingly feeling like they’d managed to all go to sleep at once. I tried to swallow and couldn’t get through it. I had cottonmouth like never before, even worse than those college Saturday nights when Taylor had convinced Megs and I to do bong hits until our brains exploded.
Apparently, brains exploding still left enough sentience to realize your mouth was like a giant cotton swab.
My brain wasn’t threatening to explode, but my belly was gurgling unease. It had been dealing with a wild concoction of endorphins, adrenaline, and cortisol all morning.
Endorphins because I loved Robert Graves more than anyone in my entire life.
Adrenaline because he would be my husband in less than one hour, and that was yet another exhilarating step toward achieving my goals in life.
And cortisol because I was scared something, anything, could go wrong.
What if Uncle GetsTooDrunk was already deep in the drink and made a scene during the ceremony? What if Cousin LovesToFight was already stirring the pot and causing a familial meltdown?
“It’s gonna be fine,” Megan said as she squeezed my hand.
My heart warmed with a smile. She knew me so well I didn’t even have to ask for reassurance. That’s what a best friend did. One like her, at least.
I was doing okay for the most part, but the thought of my dad walking me down the aisle had the butterflies swarming in my belly. I was seriously hoping to avoid barfing in front of everyone in the congregation.
I could just imagine Aunt BlabsToEveryone having a field day this evening, calling all her gossip-hound hens and sharing a cluck and a chuckle at my expense.
Megan took my shoulder and turned me towards her. Her eyes held me like an anchor.
“Alex, what are you thinking about?”
I tried to turn away. “Nothing.”
She held me fast.
“Sister, please. I’ve known that worry machine you call a mind for over twenty years. Don’t nothing me.”
“I’m worried. Is it normal to be worried?”
“Relax, girl. It’s all gonna be fine. You love Robert, right?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
She touched my chest, right over my heart.
“And that’s all that matters.” She waved dismissively in the air. “And everything else is a gnat’s ass farting in the wind.”
Despite her imaginative and slightly disgusting metaphor, I knew she was right. Robert was the man for me.
It was totally normal to be nervous on your wedding day, right?
I pressed a hand to my stomach and forced myself to take deep, even breaths. Which wasn’t easy because my throat felt like an invisible hand was choking it.
It was a big life change. Being nervous came with the territory.
Robert had to be the one.
Why would I be here if he wasn’t? We’d dated for almost two years. We were so similar. It was almost like it made no sense to be with anyone else.
We shared common interests and common plans for the future. We both wanted to be sports journalists. It probably came from growing up in a one stoplight town where the only exciting things that ever happened were the high school varsity games.
There was the age difference. He was three years older at twenty-seven, but that gap wasn’t a big deal in college like it would’ve been in high school.
We both knew we’d eventually reach our goals, but it was a wonderful surprise when Robert got hired at the Sports News Network right after graduation. He’d been slowly working his way up on the online side of things for two years now.
Apparently being a handsome smooth-talker with a passion for sports got you places. The network had already promised that he’d get to cover the upcoming World Cup next year.
He was ecstatic, and I was too, for him. That’s what being a couple was about. You cheered for your partner’s victories and cried for their defeats.
I hadn’t yet given Robert anything to cheer about, but I knew my lucky break would come.
“Hello?” Megan snapped her fingers in front of my face. “You there? Come back to the moment. You don’t want to miss it obsessing about the future.”
I blinked my eyes. “I know. I’m just so excited to start our life together.”
Megan rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Three kids, starting with a boy, a girl next so she has a big brother to look up to, and then a surprise because you’ve always wanted three.”
I stuck my tongue out at her. “Making fun of Alexis Young’s Happy Life Manual, trademark pending, is not allowed on her wedding day.”
Talking about yourself in the third person always made it feel more authoritative for some reason.
She ignored my reply and grabbed a stray lock of wavy black hair that had somehow escaped from the tight bun perched on top of my head. Robert liked it up that way and it made me happy to make him happy.
Megan tucked it back into place and twisted her lips.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m gonna miss you, Alex,” she said. “It’s not every day that I lose my best friend in the world.”
A tear welled up in the corner of her eye and threatened to spill down her cheek.
I leaned in and gave her an air hug, enough contact to comfort us both, but not enough to mess up our dresses.
“You’re not losing me, Megs. We’re moving to Europe. That’s all. We’re still going to come home to see friends and family. And besides, what better reason to go visit Europe? I’ll be there waiting, ready to be your personal tour guide.”
I dabbed the handkerchief at her bubbling tear before it could spill out and cause a disastrous mascara trail.
She sniffed back the sadness and shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to take a big bite of some hot Euro beefcake.”
“You’re so naughty!”
“Hey, I’ve got a degree in International Business. I’d say that’s the best possible way to put it to use.”
A sharp knock on the door interrupted whatever lewd reply Megan was about to make.
“It’s time to get into positions,” said a quiet voice that I recognized as the wedding coordinator.
Megan nodded and smiled.
“Let’s not keep your lucky guy waiting.”
She hooked her arm in mine and pulled me toward the door.
I took a deep breath and decided to let myself be led. That’s what a bridesmaid was for, right?
When you’d planned everything out and there was nothing left to do, it was crazy that my mind still grasped for the things I might’ve missed.
And that’s why I had a bridesmaid. To help me through the day, half guiding and half pulling.
The only problem was that I was down to half of my bridesmaids.
* * *
We walked down a long, empty hall toward the front of the church where Dad waited for me. He’d keep me from falling on my face as I made my grand entrance. I could already hear the massive pipe organ vibrating through the walls. Mom was probably already drowning in a puddle of tears. She seriously got weepy at the big life moments.
I had to admit. The sound of the organ was impressive. Robert had insisted on getting married in Manhattan, Kansas because our hometown Wamego only had three churches and none of them were fancy enough.
I pictured him waiting for me at the altar, way off down the aisle. The one that was probably only a fifty feet in real life, but in my mind stretched on for miles and miles. Anything could go wrong on that walk.
As we continued down the hall, my body seemed to float over the hunter green carpet. The connection between my head and feet felt tenuous at best. My feet apparently needed more input because the pointed tip of my left heel caught the trailing taffeta fabric.
The next step was a graceless one.
Like you see on all those America’s Funniest Home Videos. My leg automatically tried to swing forward as my balance shifted, only it didn’t swing and there was nothing to stop the forward momentum.
>
I crashed to the carpet like a two-legged deer with both legs in the back and nothing up front.
A horrendous ripping sound rent the air.
My arm in Megan’s brought her down on top of me. We were a twisted mess of limbs and crisp fabric. I rolled over and Megan fell to the side with a bump. In growing shock, I reached around to feel the back of my dress.
Oh no.
My fingers flinched when they landed on a ginormous hole in the seam on my backside. Loose threads spilled out like entrails, signifying a mortal wound. I looked into Megan’s eyes and the large white saucers there confirmed the worst.
I lost my shit.
Like, not pretty spectacle style.
With one cheek on the scratchy carpet, I came undone. At the edges. In the middle.
Everywhere in between.
It was all the emotion wrapped that kicked me over the edge.
A torrent of tears streamed over the bridge of my nose and blurred into the other eye as it added its own stream of anguish. Black mascara mixed with tears, smearing hazy blobs of gray across my vision.
Maybe it was the shock, but I didn’t make a noise. And that was saying something because when I really got going, I sounded a lot like a wounded farm animal.
I would’ve lay there silently weeping until that animal rescue team put me out of my misery, but Megan was too good a friend for that.
She choked down her own shock and, like always, stepped up to be the friend I needed.
“It’s going to be okay, honey,” she said. “It’s seriously fucked up, but it’s going to be okay.”
“Really?” The word came out squeaky and two notes higher than usual.
Megan untwisted her dress from mine and pulled me to my wobbling feet.
“Come on,” she said. “The bathroom is down the hall. We can fix this.”
Balls: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (A Cruz Boys Novel Book 1) Page 1
