Balls: The Complete Players Collection (Sports Romance Box Set)

by Teagan Kade

  He exhales, looking down between the table. “I won’t lie. It’s been hard, but I’ve been working out as much as I can at home, drilling in the cages.”

  “You should speak to the Dean, just lay it all out.”

  “Apologize?”

  “Yes.”

  He scoffs. “Like that would work.”

  “What do you have to lose?”

  He nods to himself, considering it. “You really think so?

  “It’s worth a shot, isn’t it? What’s the worst that could happen?”

  We both remain silent.

  I decide to change the subject. “How did your exam go?”

  “Great. It should make for a nice bump to my GPA. You?”

  “I think I did okay, enough to get me by.” A thought strikes me. “Say, how does Taylor manage to maintain such a high GPA? She doesn’t strike me as the,” I hunt for a better word but come up blank. “Intelligent type.”

  Asher laughs. “You can say that again, but I have no fucking idea. I never saw her studying. She always skipped class. Everyone thinks I have a free pass, but it’s Taylor they should be keeping an eye on. Whatever she’s doing, whatever scam she’s got going on, it’s paying off big-time.”

  There’s nothing I hate more than injustice, especially when it comes to grades. “Surely the college has picked up on it?”

  Asher shrugs. “Sometimes these things go unnoticed.”

  “Maybe she’s paying someone off? Her parents are loaded, right?”

  “So are the parents of ninety-nine percent of the Penbrook population, mine included.”

  “Should we go to Karen, the Dean?”

  “With what? Suspicion?”

  “There might have been something incriminating on her cell—the one you just sent to Davy Jones’ Locker, that is.”

  “Even if there was,” Asher continues. “How are you going to explain how you got hold of her cell in the first place?”

  I slump back into my chair, defeated. “Right.”

  Asher moves his chair around to my side of the table, his hand running across my thigh. “Forget about her. Final exams are two weeks away, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, let’s enjoy ourselves.” He leans close, whispering. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got an erection that could cut steel.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “I definitely do not share said erection. That said, I am a little horny.”

  “Shall we take this back to my place then?”

  I hold eye contact losing myself in the power of his approaching-storm gaze. “Lead the way.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ASHER

  The Dean’s secretary, a thin, rodent-faced woman, seems set. “I’m sorry, Mr. Slade, but the Dean simply doesn’t have time to—”

  “It’s okay,” comes a deep voice from the end of the hall. “Send him in.”

  I give the secretary my best smile as I pass.

  The Dean ushers me into his office and directs me to a chair. “Mr. Slade. To what do I owe this visit?”

  I had a whole speech prepared in my head, but now I’m here I’m not sure if it’s right. “I wanted to talk to you about the Hellcats, sir.”

  “My favorite topic.” The Dean stands and starts to pace over to a cabinet on the wall of the office. It’s filled with medals and trophies, Hellcats memorabilia. I’m pretty sure I spy a Hellcats thong.

  I clear my thoughts. Here we go. “I’d like to resume training if I could.”

  He looks over at me, hands behind his back. “Is that so? I would like a million dollars, but we don’t always get what we want, do we, Mr. Slade? As I recall, the punishment you received for your wee altercation with Leon Hunter was light considering the damage done to the college’s reputation… and yours.”

  I fold my hands together. This was expected. “I know and I sincerely regret my actions that night. It was unbecoming of a Penbrook student, let alone a team captain. I take full responsibility and want to give you my complete assurance I’ve made amends with Leon and the team. It won’t happen again.”

  The Dean stares into the trophy cabinet, thinking it over. “The problem, Asher, is that as Dean I have to maintain a certain fortitude in these matters.”

  I’m fucked.

  “However,” he says, turning. “I was down at the Litterbox for training yesterday and witnessed first-hand the, shall I say, ‘fragmented’ state of the team. Getting you back out there will benefit the team, or am I wrong?”

  “No, sir. My batting alone could get us back in championship running.”

  He looks over to his prized cabinet. “I said nothing about playing games, Mr. Slade.”

  Hope fades. “I’ll take what I can get, sir, anything to help the team.”

  “Hmm,” he murmurs again, pacing back over to his desk. He opens a drawer and takes out a letter, holding it in his hand. “Do you know what this?”

  “No, sir.”

  He places it on the desk, tapping it once. “This is a letter from a Mrs. Gale Ward, director of the McMahon Center for Disadvantaged Children.”

  I brace myself for this new obstacle.

  The Dean holds the letter out. “Mrs. Ward wrote this letter to inform me of your ‘exemplary’ and ‘dedicated’ work ethic at the home. In fact, she says here you regularly attend the home after hours, work overtime and, if I’m reading this right, adopted a puppy the home was unable to take in. All this after your community service was complete. Is that right?”

  I smile. Good ol’ Gale. “Yes, sir. Happy to help.”

  The Dean places both hands down on his desk, chewing his cheek. “I’ve informed the editor of the college paper to do a piece on the home and, of course, your presence there. That little ray of sunshine—” he picks up the letter “—combined with this, should be enough to warm over any naysayers about your return to the team.”

  “For training, sir?”

  “Games too, Mr. Slade. We can’t let a fourth championship slip through our fingers now, can we?”

  I shake my head. “No, sir. Does this mean I’ll be taking on the role of team captain again, sir?”

  “Jesus. Drop the ‘sir,’ Slade. We’re not in high school here. As for captain? I’m afraid not—not for now. Consider this a tentative reprieve granted only by my mercy. The slightest slip-up and…

  “I get the picture.” I stop myself from adding ‘sir.’

  The Dean leans over his desk. “Good, because the last thing I want, Mr. Slade, is more scandal. I’m running a school here, not a Hollywood studio. Now go on. I think that’s quite enough ass-kissing for one day, don’t you?”

  *

  Willow is overjoyed when I speak to her. She knows how much being able to play means to me. I think I’ve been taking some of that energy and frustration out in the bedroom, not that I haven’t enjoyed every single second of that training.

  I swing by the field and deliver the good news to Coach. He looks over at the other Hellcats drilling on field. “Just in the nick of time, too.” He claps me on the shoulder. “I’m sure as shit happy to have you back—captain or not.”

  “So am I.”

  He glances to the sidelines. “What’s that oversized cotton ball you brought with you?”

  I look over. “Oh, that’s Bailey. She’s a Maltese terrier.”

  Coach bellows with laughter. “That thing’s yours? You lose your balls during the last couple of weeks?”

  “Don’t let her deceive you. Her bite’s bigger than her bark. In fact, I was hoping you’d let her stay and watch training.”

  Coach nods with understanding. “Because you haven’t got anyone to look after her, correct?”

  “You’re still the sharpest tool in the shed, Coach.”

  He laughs again. “As if your nose wasn’t brown enough from being buried up the Dean’s a-hole.” For a moment he looks distant. “My wife had one of those things, Maltese or whatever they are. Damn thing dropped dead a day after she did.”

/>   Everyone knows the story. I don’t want to let Coach dwell on it.

  On cue, Bailey gives a little yap and stands up on her back legs. I swear to god she’s waving at us.

  Good girl.

  Coach pulls off his cap, swatting it in the air. “Ah, hell. Why the fuck not? I’ll even take care of her myself. How’s that for a deal?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “You’re really taking care of business today, aren’t you, son?”

  I have to smile at that. “Yes, sir.”

  *

  Coach wasn’t kidding around. The team’s in dire straits. I know I’m technically no longer their captain, but I do my best to pull them together and get us back on track. Thanks to a shortened suspension, Leon’s back and pitching at his best. He’s tossing down fastballs so quick I’m surprised they don’t catch fucking fire.

  It feels incredible to have a bat in my hands again. I tell Leon not to hold back, and he doesn’t. Soon the other players are falling into line. As for Coach, he seems smitten with Bailey, making her hop for treats I brought along, playing catch. The two of them actually make a pretty cute couple.

  Leon glances down at my dick in the showers. “Can’t say I’ve missed having that thing around.”

  I take hold of it. “Why? Jealous? Happy to swing you an inch or two, but I don’t think even that would be any help to your shortstop there.”

  Leon looks down at his crotch. “We get by, don’t we, pal?”

  I almost expect his cock to talk back. The stories that thing could tell. My god.

  Leon turns the tap, water and steam jetting down around us. “So you’re back in everyone’s good graces then?”

  I stand aside. “Something like that.”

  “And Willow?”

  I towel off my legs. “She’s great. We’re in a good place.”

  Leon looks over. “Good.”

  Whether or not he means it is a different story.

  “And you?” I ask. “Your side business?”

  He claps his hands together. “I shut up shop, got a job at the Quagmire.”

  I laugh. “You think working in a bar is the best course of action?”

  “It’s a job, isn’t it?”

  I can’t argue with that. “I suppose so.”

  The sun’s blinding when I step out of the stadium into the open. It’s so bright, I almost miss Taylor standing there.

  “It’s been a while,” she says, pushing off the wall in her cheerleader get-up and casually strolling over.

  She places her hand on my chest. I brush it off.

  Bailey yelps at her from below.

  Taylor looks at me in disgust. “What the fuck, Asher?”

  I’m tired of this. “What can I say, Taylor? I’m sorry. I’m with someone else. Get the fuck over it.”

  “Sorry?” she barks. “We’ve been together two years and all I get is sorry?”

  “We had fun, sure, but we were never really a proper couple, Taylor. Surely you know that.”

  “What I know is that you’re seeing that Willow bitch.” She sniffs at me. “I can smell her all over you.”

  I start to walk off. “I don’t have time for this.”

  She jumps in front of me and attempts to push me back. “You will fucking explain, explain exactly what she has that I don’t?”

  Got a notepad? It was all for show with Taylor, for sex—pretty mediocre sex at that. A wet mattress has more life.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  She slaps me in the face.

  It’s so pitiful I laugh.

  It doesn’t help.

  She’s irate. “You think that’s funny?”

  “A little bit, yeah. Now, can I go?”

  She sidesteps to block my path again. “We’re not done.”

  She’s not going to let it go.

  I put my bag down. “Okay, Taylor. You want an explanation? Here goes.” I point between us. “What you and I had, it was nothing. I looked good on your arm and you looked good on mine. It was all about appearances, but Willow? She couldn’t care less about that shit. She’s got more integrity and genuine warmth in her pinkie than you’ve got in your entire body. She’s considerate, she’s kind and,” I hesitate. “She’s a hell of a lot better in bed. For the first time in my life I’m in love and I'm not going to let anything—anything, you hear?—jeopardize that.”

  I pick up my bag and take hold of Bailey’s leash, attempting to walk, but I’m shoved again, Taylor using both hands now. “Fuck you.”

  “I’m leaving.”

  I step around her and keep walking.

  This time she stays put, continuing to shout at my back.

  “We’re not done!” she yells.

  Bailey barks back.

  “Yes, we are,” I call ahead.

  “You’re going to regret this,” she shouts.

  But I’m past threats. I’m past vapid airheads like Taylor in my life. I have Willow.

  And Willow’s all I need.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  WILLOW

  A week from exams and Asher and I are studying—and playing—hard. Things have settled down somewhat. At least, no one’s accosting me in the showers any more.

  Bellies full from our fill of cannelloni at the restaurant downstairs, we clear the top of the stairs to find a middle-aged man standing by Asher’s door.

  “Can I help you?” asks Asher.

  “Mr. Slade, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Lindsey Stewart, the landlord of this complex.”

  Asher exchanges a glance with me. “Did I miss a rent payment?”

  The landlord shakes his head. “No. Your mother is quite punctual when it comes to your rent, but I have had it come to my attention you may be harboring an animal here on complex property. I’m sure it was made very clear when you moved in that under no circumstances are pets, animals of any kind, allowed.”

  He’s talking like we’re safe-housing a terrorist. Bailey barely makes a sound, and I’ve met Asher’s neighbors. They don’t seem like the kind to report him in. Mr. Barry next door even comes around to feed her when Asher’s in class.

  “There is a canine on property, is there not, Mr. Slade?” continues the landlord.

  Asher doesn’t deny it. “There is.”

  The landlord smiles at me before returning his attention back to Asher. “You have twenty-four hours to remove the offending animal, or you can remove yourself.”

  I expect Asher to blow up, but he remains surprisingly calm. “Yes, sir, but can I ask who the complaint came from?”

  The landlord smiles at me again. “Let’s just say a concerned citizen. She was most helpful. Good day.”

  The landlord leaves.

  Asher waits until we’re inside, Bailey nipping at his ankles, before letting his frustration out, slamming the wall with an open hand. “What the hell?”

  “Who do you think it was?”

  He scoops Bailey up, stroking the soft spot between her ears. “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Taylor’s saw me with her at training. She’s the only person I can think of who’d do something like this just to fuck with me.”

  “You really think so? That’s taking it a bit far, isn’t it?”

  Asher places Bailey down and leans against the edge of the breakfast bar. “She’s got a serious issue with us, that’s for sure. If I were a betting man, I’d say this is only the start.”

  I come forward and play with the bottom of his shirt, lifting it until I see the faint trail of hair that leads to the wonderland below. “Taylor aside, what are you going to do about Bailey? I can’t have her in the dorms. Amy would have a heart attack, for one.”

  “She’s not a dog person?” Asher jokes.

  “You obviously missed the giant Grumpy Cat poster on her side of the room.”

  Asher looks down at my playful fingers, smirking. “I can’t say I was paying much attention to her side of the room.”

  “Could you take her to a ve
t,” I suggest. “Plead her case?”

  Asher shakes his head. “You know what would happen. She’d remain unclaimed only to be put down. I can’t do that.”

  “You’ve grown attached.”

  “I have.”

  “So?”

  He breathes out. “I have no idea, but I’m going to think of something.”

  *

  Amy’s out when I get back to the dorm—surprise, surprise. I only just make curfew, squeezing through the door with a disapproving look from the Adele lookalike at the front desk.

  I take the opportunity to call Mom.

  She answers yawning. “Willow? Is everything okay?”

  “Fine, Mom. Just thought I’d give you a call.”

  Another yawn. “That’s nice. How’s the study going?”

  I nod to myself, stretching out on bed. I’m trying to conjure up thoughts of study, but all I’m getting is Asher—naked, hard. “It’s going well. They have a great library here.”

  Library—I blush at thought of what’s taken place there, and it has nothing to do with books. The Joy Of Sex, maybe.

  “Have you been eating?”

  “Yes, Mom. I can take care of myself, you know.”

  “A mother can worry, can’t she? After all, you’re on the other side of the country, alone.”

  Thanks for rubbing it in. “I’m not alone, Mom.”

  She perks up at this. “You’ve made friends?”

  That’s one way to put it. “Of sorts. Maybe friend, singular.”

  I was never good at hiding stuff from Mom. She feels me out in an instant. “Are you seeing someone, Willow?” Excitement now. “Is it a boy?”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you want me to answer ‘yes’ to that, Mom. I thought you only cared about my grades?”

  “You’re allowed to have a little fun, Willow. I know that’s not what your father would have said, but I understand what’s it like. You’ve changed, but you don’t need to be…”

  “Boring?”

  “Yes. You know, in my own time at college I was quite the wild child myself. This one night, I was with some of the boys from a frat house—”

  “I don’t think I want to hear this story, Mom.”

  “No? I suppose it’s best left it up to the imagination, but what I am saying is let your hair down a little. Have some fun.”