by Ryan, Kaylee
LuckyBastard
A Cocky Hero World Novel
Kaylee Ryan
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Cocky Hero Club
Thank you
More From Kaylee
Acknowledgments
Lucky Bastard is a standalone story inspired by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward’s Cocky Bastard. It's published as part of the Cocky Hero Club world, a series of original works, written by various authors, and inspired by Keeland and Ward's New York Times bestselling series.
Copyright © 2020 by Kaylee Ryan and Cocky Hero Club, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Editor: Hot Tree Editing
Proofreading by: Virginia Tesi Carey & Deaton Author Services
Photo Credit: Wander Aguiar
Model: Pat Tanski
Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Chapter 1
Emma
“I feel like I’m cheating.” Looking over at my best friend Aubrey, I catch her smile and the roll of her eyes.
“Really, Em?” She chuckles, bouncing her son, CJ, on her hip.
“What? I can’t help it. I’m a Miami Mavericks fan for life.”
“I know, so does everyone else here. I can’t believe you wore a Mavericks T-shirt to the Trojans training camp.”
“I’m here for moral support.” I reach out and tickle CJ’s side, making him laugh. “What kind of best friend would I be if I let you come to this on your own? Besides, you know nothing about the game. Someone has to explain it to you.”
“All I need to know is that my husband is the new kicking coach, and with that, comes my loyalty, and this little guy’s.” She smiles at her son.
“I admit, it’s a good move on the Trojans’ part in hiring the legendary Chance Bateman as their new kicking coach. Their kicking game needed some work.”
“Right?” She laughs. “We can’t live off him selling ass trinkets forever. We all know my salary at the shelter isn’t going to pay for our new house.”
“I don’t know,” I tease, tapping my finger against my chin. “His ass is legendary.”
“Stop.” She pushes her shoulder into mine. “Don’t let him hear you talking like that. Cocky Bastard’s ego is big enough as it is.”
I nod. She’s right about that. Chance is confident, and yes, a little cocky. However, when it comes to his wife and son, he keeps it in check. They’re his entire world, and he doesn’t care who knows it. In fact, I think he enjoys showing them off to the world. Hence the reason we’re here for training camp. It’s family day and not open to the public.
“He has earned his nickname,” I agree, returning my attention back to the field. “You know, I might be a die-hard Mavericks fan, but I can still appreciate a man in football pants.” My eyes take in the players on the field, and I’ve come to the conclusion that football pants are a girl’s best friend. Just saying.
“I’m not sure I ever realized the appeal until now, but, my friend, I think you’re on to something,” Aubrey agrees.
“Hey, princess,” Chance says, greeting his wife. We’re standing on the sidelines. Since it’s family day, it’s pretty much open. “Come here, little man.” Chance reaches for CJ, who happily holds his arms open for his daddy. “You ladies need anything?” he asks.
I’m tempted to tell him one of his players, but I bite my tongue. I talk a good game, but random hookups aren’t my thing. Don’t get me wrong, I commend those who can have sex with a stranger and walk away the next morning, satisfied and never look back. I’m just not wired that way.
“We’re all set,” Aubrey replies.
“I’m going to take him out on the field with me. Introduce him to some of the guys. Practice is almost over and I’ll introduce you.” He leans in and presses his lips to her before walking away with CJ.
“You know,” I muse, “if you weren’t my best friend, I might be a little jealous of you.”
“What?” She turns to look at me. “Why would you be jealous of me? I have unidentified bodily fluids on me from my son at all times, a husband who’s cocky as hell and thinks he knows it all, and a mortgage for a house on Morgan Street that cuts into CJ’s college fund.”
“Oh, stop. You’re living the dream and you know it.”
“I’m not sure if it’s the dream, but my dream, yes. I love the life Chance and I are building.”
“Hence the jealousy.”
“You’ll find your cocky bastard,” she assures me, putting her arm around my shoulders. “He’s everything I never knew I wanted.”
“He’s so good with him.” I motion toward the field where Chance has CJ on his shoulders while he’s talking to one of the players, and CJ, well, he’s all smiles. At two, he has no idea the depth of where he is. Most kids never get to experience a professional football game, let alone being on the field with the players and coaching staff.
The whistle blows and the players start motioning for the families to join them on the field. Aubrey and I head toward Chance and CJ.
“Thomas Bourgeois, this is my wife, Aubrey, and her best friend, Emma. Princess, Emma, Thomas is our starting kicker.” Chance makes introductions.
“Ladies,” Thomas says, giving us a charming smile. He glances at my chest and I can’t help but smirk. “Looks like we need to get you some Trojans gear.” He winks.
“Nah, I’m good.” I give Thomas, or number two, a smug smile.
He throws his hands to his chest over his heart as if he’s wounded. “Come on now, don’t be like that,” he tosses out with a grin. I give him a look that tells him I’m not buying what he’s selling. He throws his head back in laughter and stumbles back a step, bumping into a teammate.
“What’s up, Bourgeois?” the very tall, very sexy number eighteen asks.
“This one.” He points at me.
I feel my body heat as number eighteen rakes his eyes over me. Slowly, they catalog every inch of me. Finally, his eyes scan back to my chest and freeze there. “We need to do something about that.” He nods to my chest.
It’s a good thing I’m a solid C cup or I’d be offended they were talking about my actual chest size. However, I know it’s the Miami Mavericks logo that sprawls across my chest that’s offending them. “Eyes up here.”
He smirks. “You’d look good in a number eighteen Trojans jersey. I can help you out of that.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said I can help you out with that. A Trojans jersey.” He points to my chest.
“Bless your heart,” I say, making my voice sugary sweet. “I’m sorry, but I’m a Mavs girl.” I shrug, not taking my eyes off his. His eyes, they’re the deepest cerulean blue. You know those tropical vacation videos you see on social media, the ones that promise relaxation and free drinks? His eyes look like the water in those videos. Vibrant blue.
“Oh no, no, no, this won’t do,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, planting his feet on the turf.
His arms are thick and toned with muscle, and he has those veins… you know the sexy veins in a man’s arms? The ones that tell you that he works hard at what he does, whether it’s his job or in the gym? In this case, I’m sure it’s both. I mean, he plays for the professional football league. He didn’t get here on pure luck. I allow myself to indulge and take in this beautiful man before me.
“Like what you see?” he asks.
Thomas mutters, “Lucky bastard,” at the same time.
“Actually, I was just sizing you up. Comparing you to number eight on the Mavs. You do know who A.J. Holland is, right?”
“Pfft,” he scoffs. “I know A.J., but I promise you, sweetheart, I can make you feel better than him.”
“What?” I stand a little taller. I should be offended, but if I'm honest with myself, I’m a little turned on.
“I said, I’m better than him.” He grins.
I don’t know if my mind and body are playing tricks on me, but damn, if this isn’t the second time in a matter of minutes I’ve taken his words as a sexual innuendo. I need to squash this shit.
“Oh, that’s cute. I’m sure one day you might get to his level,” I fire back. There, back on a level playing field. However, the grin that tilts his lips, and the dimple that peeks out from under his beard tells me my words don’t affect him. Damn it.
He turns to look at Thomas. “She yours, Bourgeois?”
“Mine actually,” Chance speaks up. “Landon, this is my son CJ, my wife, Aubrey, and her best friend, Emma. They’re mine,” Chance announces with no room for discussion.
Once again, I’m reminded how lucky my best friend is—to have a man like Chance to navigate life with. He loves her and their son unconditionally. And because Aubrey is my best friend, I get grouped with them. He’s a good man, regardless of his cockiness at times.
Landon Barker raises his hands in the air, his number eighteen practice jersey rising to show the V where his gym shorts hang low. He might be a cocky bastard, but if he kept his mouth shut, he’d definitely be one to keep around to look at. Damn, I can’t imagine the countless number of hours he has to spend in the gym and on the field to be ripped like that.
As if he can read my mind, he rips his practice jersey, and the compression shirt he had on underneath, over his head and wipes down his face. I tune out the conversation around me as I take him in. My eyes roam over his muscular chest as I work my way down to his abs. I count silently in my head. Eight. I lick my lips as I imagine what it would be like to run my hands over them, maybe trace them with my tongue.
“Hey.” Aubrey bumps her shoulder into mine, pulling me out of my fog where it was just me and number eighteen’s abs.
“Sorry.” I turn to face her.
“The food’s set up. We’re going to head over and eat.” She points over my shoulder where, sure enough, the catering staff has brought an array of picnic type foods to several tables on the field.
“Definitely.” My eyes dance back to Landon, where I find him watching me. “I’m suddenly starving.” I lick my lips for emphasis before turning back to Aubrey. “Let me take CJ while you and Chance make your plates, then I’ll make mine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I reach my arms toward Chance to take CJ from him, and he practically jumps into my arms, laughing when I snuggle him close, then settle him on my hip. Having CJ in my arms will keep Landon at bay. At least, that’s the hope. Not that I wouldn’t have offered all the same, but it’s an added bonus he’s now our buffer.
Chance and Aubrey walk toward the tables, and I stare after them. “Did you have fun today?” I ask CJ.
“Daddy.” He points to where Chance and Aubrey are filling their plates.
“Look.” I point up to the jumbotron that has Chance’s smiling mug on display, trying to distract him. He’s daddy’s boy through and through. Slowly, each member of the coaching staff gets their turn before it moves on to the players. Of course, the first player would be their starting quarterback, Landon Barker. His dark hair, those ocean blue eyes, and his cocky smirk are enlarged on the screen. I stare at him and take in his features. The hint of his dimple again winking through his beard, and the sparkle in his eyes. “Lucky Bastard,” I mumble under my breath. He was born with good genes that I’m sure has panties dropping all over Hermosa Beach, hell all over the world if I’m honest.
“Maybe you should pull out your phone and take a picture,” a deep voice rumbles from over my shoulder. His hot breath dances across my skin.
Turning my head, I see Landon. “Nah, just comparing your stats to Holland. You’ve got some work to do.” I have no idea if what I just said is true. I love football, but I’m not one of those keep all the stats kind of football fan. I’m more of a kick-back, drink a beer, eat some wings, and yell at the TV kind of girl. Oh, and don’t forget the pants. I like to think of myself as a connoisseur of football pants. Not just the pants, but the asses that fill them. Trust me, ladies, if this is not something that you’ve witnessed, tune in on Sunday afternoon and see for yourself. I promise you that you won’t be disappointed.
“You’re something else, you know that?” There’s a smile playing on his lips, and part of me feels relieved I haven’t offended him, and the other part is irritated that I didn’t. It doesn’t make any sense, and I can’t believe I’m letting him have this kind of effect on me. “Why don’t—” He starts, but I step away from him when Aubrey turns to wave at me.
I don’t stick around for whatever lewd comment I’m sure would have come out of his mouth. I’m not here to take part in a sparring match with the sexy quarterback. No, I’m here to support Chance and be the sidekick to my best friend. That’s where my priorities lie today. One step after another, my feet carry me to Chance and Aubrey.
“You hungry?” Aubrey asks CJ as I set him in the chair beside her.
He doesn’t answer her but reaches for a piece of fruit from the plate she placed in front of him. “I’m going to go grab a plate. You guys need anything?”
“Maybe a few extra napkins.” Chance chuckles as he watches his son shove another handful of sticky fruit into his mouth.
“Got it.” Making my way to the tables filled with food, I’m impressed. I may be a Mavericks fan, but the Trojans obviously know how to go all out. Today has been fun. To see how the other side lives, bumping elbows with professional football players and their families. Sure, they’re not my team, but I can accept this day for what it is, which is a once in a lifetime experience.
“You know…” A deep sexy voice appears beside me. “…if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to avoid me.”
“Look at you, hitting the nail on the head,” I say, dismissing him as I fill my plate. I’m not trying to be a bitch, not really. I just know what these guys are like. I see them in the tabloids with a different woman on their arm each time. I know they’re just living their best lives—a new woman to fill their bed in every city. I’m not judging. To each their own and all that. It’s just not me. I’m not about that. I don’t do casual, even for the sexy football god that is Landon Barker.
“Right,” he sniggers. “Look. I’m here for three more weeks, but maybe once training camp is over, we can have dinner.”
“Dinner, is that what all the cool kids are calling it these days?”
He smirks.
Fucking dimple.
“No, thanks.”
“Come
on, sweetheart, don’t leave me hanging.”
“First of all, my name is Emma, and second, I don’t date players.” Not just football players, but men in general who look at dating as a sport. I’m not interested in all that or the STDs that come with it.
“Emma.” His voice is deep and husky, and it sends a shiver through me. My body needs to get on board with the no-players thing.
I take my time as I finish filling my plate and grab a large stack of napkins before I turn to face him. He has the same pose as earlier—legs spread apart, arms folded across his chest, and all the sexiness that he is on full display. “Go out with me.”
“Thank you, but no.” With that, I turn and walk away. There is a very big part of me that wants to turn around and yell “SIKE” and ask him when and where, but as I get closer to the table where my friends are sitting, I remember why I don’t. Chance has CJ on his lap, and his head is bent as he places a kiss on Aubrey’s shoulder. I want what they have, and dating the sexy Landon Barker isn’t going to get me any closer. I’m not naïve enough to think I can change him. A tiger doesn’t change his stripes, and that’s fine, I’m good with that. I just can’t bend my will and date him when I know it’s not going to go anywhere.
Taking my seat next to Aubrey, I pass her the extra napkins. I focus on my food, and on my friends, and try like hell to ignore my body’s reaction to Landon. I ignore the way I have to wiggle in my seat, to ward off the desire that my body craves. I won’t deny he would be fun. Hell, I’m not even sure that fun describes what it would be like to be with Landon Barker. More like an out-of-body experience, and I’m sure it would be a moment I would never forget, but I also know me, and sex leads to feelings… and that would be tragic. As if my eyes are connected to him, they seek him out. I find him standing about fifteen feet away laughing and cutting up with a few of the players with not a care in the world. He obviously isn’t having the same struggle as I am. He’s not warring with himself over my rejection. He’s not trying to cool his body’s reaction to me.
