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

by Teagan Kade

  “That Greg guy? Because if you’ve got an address, I’ve got a baseball bat.”

  I ran my hand lower to play with the waistband of his boxers very conscious of the large lump below. “Seems one of my old friends, AKA not one of my friends at all, called him up out of the blue. Idiot he is, he offered her a box of my old things that had been sitting around at his place.”

  “Sex tape included.”

  I nodded once. “He knew what was really going on, naturally, but he handed it over regardless and took her blackmail money.”

  Scott locked onto that, reaching down to stop my hand going any further. “Her?”

  “That’s right.”

  Scott brought one hand up to the side of his head in realization. “Fucking Wanda.”

  I nodded again. “My guess too.”

  With new fire in his eyes, Scott backed away from me, heading to the dresser in the main room and tapping away at his cell. “We can settle this right now.”

  The dial tone came through the phone speaker, Scott standing over the phone as I took a seat on the bed.

  Wanda answered on the second ring sounding surprisingly spritely. “Scott,” she answered, “thought you’d call sooner or later.”

  Scott looked to me, lowering himself and placing his hands on the top of the dresser. “We know you were behind the sex tape. We know you picked up the box of Rae’s old things from that fucker Greg’s place. We know the sex tape was in there and that you knew full fucking well what it was. I don’t know who you had to blow to get it up on the Jumbotron, but you can rest assured we’re going to find out.”

  If she was shaken, she didn’t show it. “‘We’ is it now? So you’re not even trying to hide it now?”

  “Don’t sidestep, Wanda. Admit it. You were behind this.”

  To my complete astonishment, she replied, “Fine. Sure. Yes. I found the tape, I made inquiries, and I sure as hell got the world to see it, to see that skank exposed, and you know what?”

  Scott didn’t reply.

  “It was beautiful,” Wanda continued. “The look on her face.” She laughed at that.

  It took all my self-control to keep my mouth shut.

  “Why?” asked Scott. “What the fuck has she done to you?”

  The airy couldn’t-give-a-damn ’tude was gone. “You don’t reject me, Scott. No one rejects me, especially when it’s clear what we have.”

  Scott’s head was shaking. “Had,” he corrected. “Like I said, you’re delusional, Wanda. We’re done.”

  “You don’t think I see the way you’ve been eye-fucking me around the place? And for what? To lead me on?” She was on a roll now. “No, no,” she bellowed, “so you left me no choice, really. I had to go scorched earth on you, on both of you.”

  “You know, you’re a real fucking b—” but Scott managed to stop himself, standing back upright.

  He ended the call instead.

  Slowly, he turned to face me. “Well, that was fun.”

  He saw me holding up my own cell, set to record, and began to smile. “Rae, you genius. You sweet, sweet genius.”

  He rushed over and scooped me up, tossing me onto the bed and running a hand down my side where it whispered against my skin.

  My cell began to ring. We both stopped.

  “Let it go,” said Scott, lowering himself to kiss the nape of my neck, “it’s probably reporters. Wanda must have leaked your number.”

  Scott’s lips felt incredible and I really wanted to let it go, but curiosity got the better of me. I gave him the ‘one sec’ signal, reaching for my cell.

  Scott knelt before me and started to pout like a puppy dog looking for its next meal.

  I rolled my eyes and answered. “Yes.”

  “Miss Walsh, it’s Jerry McNamara here from Sports Weekly. I’m so sorry to bother you, but I wonder if I could borrow a second of your time? I’ll be quick, I promise.”

  So Scott was right, it was a reporter, but this seemed too polite to hang up on. “Sure.”

  Scott threw his hands up and pointed down at his dick with a sad face. I playfully shoved him away and continued to talk.

  It turned out this Jerry guy could be pretty persuasive, seemed to be on my side and open to hearing more. I agreed to an interview, Scott throwing his hands up again and spinning on the spot. ‘What are you doing?’ he mouthed.

  “Okay, see you then,” I said, and hung up.

  “Tell me you didn’t just agree to an interview,” Scott said.

  “I did.”

  “Live?”

  I nodded.

  Scott paced across the hotel room with his hands on his hips. He was cute when he was angry. “This is not a good idea, Rae.”

  I stood up. “I’m not crazy. I know what I’m doing. I’m going to confront this head on. It’s the only way.”

  He spun and stared at me, his smile returning. He knew he wasn’t going to change my mind. “Well, alright then, soldier. Let’s get you geared up for battle.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  RAE

  I never really understood the term ‘hot seat’ until I was sitting in one myself.

  The studio lights blared down on us from above, from the side, even the floor. I expected to be lit up a little for this interview. I didn’t expect the Second Coming.

  So far, the interview had gone smoothly. I originally thought this would be a radio broadcast, but nope, we were here in front of a small, albeit vocal TV audience, the cameras rolling and the host, Conner, beaming from his spot at the desk next to us.

  As a kid I used to watch this weekly Sports Weekly wrap-up. Now, here I was, the star of the show.

  So far we’d covered the usual small-talk, my upbringing and love for the game, how wet it is in Seattle and so on.

  Connor leaned forward and I knew the tone was about to change. “Let’s get down to business, Rae… The tape.”

  I’d rehearsed this, smiling. “Well, it’s not something you want your folks to see, that’s for sure.”

  Connor looked to the audience. “To be fair, all you could see was a dark half-butt and a bit of side boob. You couldn’t see a damn thing. It was like watching The Battle of Winterfell.”

  The audience laughed at that.

  “I mean,” said Connor, “we’ve got a First Lady who’s posed nude, am I right?”

  Again, the audience laughed along.

  “But seriously, word is you were suspended?”

  “That’s correct,” I replied.

  “Do you think your male team members would have been treated the same way if it was their birthday suits on show?”

  I thought I’d have to steer the conversation in this direction, but Connor was doing all the work for me.

  Scott reached for my hand under the desk and squeezed it. I’d almost forgotten he was there, but it was reassuring to know I had his support. Sports Weekly certainly didn’t care. For them it was two for the price of one.

  “Not a chance,” said Scott.

  Connor couldn’t seem to decide who to put this next question to, simply looking between us both. “And just to be clear, you two are in a relationship?”

  I smiled at Scott and he smiled back. In that moment the cameras and lights didn’t exist. There was no audience, no host. There was us and I knew, knew as I lived and drew breath, that this was the man I wanted to spend my life with, this perfect, wonderful man who had given me so much, who had brought the very best out in me. “Yes,” I replied almost instantly, “we’re in love.”

  An ‘aw’ followed from the crowd, Connor reaching up to his heart. “See what hockey does to folks, people? And they say it’s a soulless game. Come on now, give it up for these two.”

  The audience whooped and hollered, Connor eventually forced to step in and shush them down. The tone was serious again. “Now, Rae, I believe you’ve got a recording you want to play?”

  Here it was. Go time.

  “Yes,” I smiled.

  Conner gave the signal to let
it play, speakers overheard relaying the conversation between Scott and Wanda.

  The audience was dead silent, Conner listening attentively until the end of the recording whereupon he sits back in his chair, puffing out a held breath. “Wow, that’s a bombshell. To be clear, this is a conversation between yourself, Scott, and Wanda Bausch, your ex and current Kraken Head of PR?”

  “That’s correct,” replied Scott. He was deadly serious, but I knew he was doing all he could not to smile.

  “Wow, wow, wow,” says Connor, “big issues to unpack here. What do you guys think?” he asked the audience.

  I noticed someone was already standing over there with a mic.

  I listened to the audience members speak and the almost universal condemnation they had for Wanda after listening to the recording.

  Connor reached up to his earpiece. “We’ve got a ton of calls coming through. Let’s take a couple.”

  It was clear from the calls we’d struck the right note. The tide had most certainly turned in my favor. There was outrage and anger. Yes, there was the odd asshat, but the majority of callers wanted blood and, most of all, my suspension overturned.

  I was feeling relaxed and composed until Connor said there was another caller on the line — Liam.

  Before I could protest, the call was already being put through.

  “Liam Golder!” Conner beamed. “Isn’t this a treat, folks?”

  “Conner, hi,” came Liam’s voice from seemingly everywhere.

  I tensed up, bracing myself for the worst despite his recent support, but what he said was completely unexpected.

  “Let me get this right,” said Connor in reply. “You’re saying the Kraken will refuse to play unless Rae Walsh is reinstated?”

  “That’s right, Connor.”

  “You’re speaking for the entire team?”

  “I am. We’re behind Rae, one-hundred percent, and I know the fans are too. This is wrong. Either Rae’s reinstated or the Kraken are going to need a new starting lineup.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Liam Golder!”

  The audience had been whipped into a feeding frenzy by now.

  I was touched by Liam’s words, couldn’t quite hold the tears back, sniffing them away and knowing full well every pore and pimple would be on show here, but who really cared? They’d seen worse, right? They’d seen my shadowy half-butt and side boob for crying out loud.

  It took a while for things to die down, Connor lifting his finger for silence and reaching for his ear again. “Now I’m getting word we have Allie Layton on the line, co-owner of the Seattle Kraken.

  The crowd booed, but Connor managed to quieten them down. “Let’s hear what she has to say, folks. Go ahead, Allie.”

  “Connor, Scott, Rae, hello,” started Allie, “I just wanted to call in and clear a few things up. It seems we’ve had a big misunderstanding here.”

  “How so?” asked Connor.

  I could actually hear Allie gulp. “Well… it seems one of our staff members had a grudge against Ms. Walsh, that the staff member in question engineered this turn of events.”

  “You’re referring to Wanda Bausch?”

  “I’m, ah, not at liberty to say, legally, but I do want the fans to know we will be launching a full investigation in the matter and cooperating completely with the authorities.”

  “And Rae Walsh?” pressed Connor. “Will she be reinstated?”

  Allie paused a moment. “I want to be clear Ms. Walsh was never under suspension. She remains a valued and important member of this team.”

  My lips parted about to launch into protest, but I snapped them closed again with another squeeze from Scott’s hand. He was right. This allowed everyone to win, for Allie and Tripp to save face and Wanda to bear the brunt of responsibility, and rightly so.

  I tuned back into the conversation just as Allie was hanging up.

  Connor looked to Scott and me inquisitively. “So now, my little lovebirds, what can we expect next of the Rae Walsh and Scott Bausch show?”

  Scott looked deep into my eyes and smiled. “Fireworks, Connor. As Katy Perry once said, we’re going to light up the sky like the Fourth of July.”

  EPILOGUE

  ONE YEAR LATER, START OF NEXT SEASON

  RAE

  I smiled as I brought my cell to my ear. “Micah. How’s Florida treating you?”

  There are people in the background, what sounds like a coffee machine in meltdown mode. “Just swell, my girl, but humid. It’s like I’m taking a shower every time I step outside.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  “They say the same thing about hemorrhoids, you know, and speaking of things that are a pain in the ass… your contract.”

  I straightened up. “What happened?”

  “Don’t sound so serious. You know I always come through for you, right?”

  I did, and he was right. Micah had never let me down, always stood by my side, right through the sex-tape scandal and following fallout. “Of course.”

  “I renegotiated your salary and let’s just say while a private jet’s not on the table yet, you can probably afford the fuel.”

  “Thank you,” I laughed.

  “But wait. There’s more!”

  “You got a nice set of steak knives to throw in?”

  “I’ve got a five-year contract with the Kraken to throw in, iron-clad. You know, given your stellar performance last season. What is it they’ve been calling you again?”

  He knew full well. I rolled my eyes. “Wonder Woman.”

  “Well, Lynda. Grab your golden lasso. You’ve got another Stanley Cup to capture.”

  It had been an extraordinary turn of events last year. After I was reinstated the team was basically unbeatable. We climbed the ladder fast and never looked back. I was truly one of the boys, bar brawls and beer bongs inclusive. Being out there on the ice, knowing we’d won the championship, was one of the greatest moments of my life. I cried into Scott’s shoulder like a blubbery baby, but no one cared. I think Liam was actually the one crying the most, Cormac simply telling me, “You did it, kid. You did it.”

  “We did it,” I’d corrected him.

  I thanked Micah and told him to behave himself down there. “Behave myself?” he laughed. “Always. Florida’s the land of the well-to-do widow. I’ll be just dandy.”

  I hung up smiling.

  “Good news?”

  It was Scott, in jeans and nothing else, coming up behind me. Through the windows of our apartment the first rays of light were starting to hit Mount Rainier in the distance, an eruption of golden luminance that soon blanketed the sky.

  His arms snaked around me. “Was that Micah? I thought he was in Florida working on his tan. Poor guy needs it.”

  My reflection smiled before me. “It was. He got me a five-year contract with the Kraken, new salary…”

  I spun in Scott’s arms, my hands on his chest, a sight I never seemed to get sick of.

  Scott’s eyebrows raised. “Actually, Tripp and Allie let me know earlier I’ve got a five-year contract too… if I wanted it. I was going to save the news for a surprise, but I think, just maybe, I might have something better.”

  Now I was curious. “Do tell.”

  He let me go and got down on one knee, the hot sky behind me turning his skin to gold. He reached behind himself, his hands returning with a simple black box.

  My mind immediately went through all possible options:

  Necklace? Too small.

  Gift card? Ah, no.

  Key to his heart? Cock, more likely.

  But I knew what it was before he opened it, before his fingers snapped it in two and I saw the ring inside.

  He looked down at it. “It’s flat, the diamonds embedded, so, you know, it won’t get in the way of your game.”

  I wiped away a tear doing my best to hold myself together before I turned into a sappy, rom-com mess. “You know the game means nothing to me compared to this, compared to us.”

&nb
sp; “I do,” he said, and I’d never seen a man so beautiful in body and spirit, a perfect man I was so ready to share my life with, “which is why I’m going to say, Rae Walsh, bringer of pain and goalkeeper of my heart, will you do me the honor, the absolute privilege,” he smiled, “of being my wife?”

  I broke down and fell to my knees, knocking the box aside as he took me in his arms.

  We collapsed to the floor laughing. He reached up and brushed the hair from my face. “How did I get so lucky?”

  “Well,” I told him, reaching down between us to find his cock hard and ready, as always, “I guess Scott ‘Trouser Snake’ Bausch is more than a one-trick pony.”

  He grabbed me by the hips and flipped me over, dragging my panties aside with his pointer finger. “Oh, but what a trick it is.”

  EPILOGUE II

  RAE

  THREE YEARS LATER

  It was snowing in Seattle. We only got a few inches each season, but today it was falling from the sky like so many pieces of paper — pale feathers floating down onto the porcelain face of our daughter.

  Scott was busy rummaging through the bottom of the stroller beside us. “I think I’ve found a lost civilization in here.”

  It was true a lot of things had become bottomless pits since Havana came along — the stroller, my handbag, the baby bag, the cupboards… I went out the other day with a freakin’ pacifier stuck to the bottom of my shoe.

  “Ah, here it is.”

  Scott stood with the blanket in hand, taking Havana off me and wrapping her tight. He held her snug against his shoulder. I melted inside at the way her eyes begin to bat and droop knowing she was safe in Daddy’s arms.

  It was hard getting used to having someone else in your life, a six-month-old that needed constant attention, your boobs on tap twenty-four seven, but my god had it been a rewarding journey. Seeing them together like this, my little girl and big man, made my heart swell close to bursting. If you asked me to trade in my three championship wins for this, I’d let them go in a heartbeat.

  We were on the top of our apartment complex, just the three of us. Somewhere in the distance was Mt. Rainer, a favorite playground of ours off-season. In fact, Havana was conceived there after a particularly tough third season on the ice.