Rookie Mistake: A Sports Romance Novel (The Beasts of Baseball Book 1) (3 page)

“One shot,” I agreed.

Two blondes, both wearing skirts so short and tight you could almost see their pussies, pushed their way through the crowd and towards our table. I had refused to sit down, knowing that Ace would convince me to stay longer if I did, so one grabbed me around the waist, sidling close behind me. Her hands slid across my abs and up to my chest.

“You’re the new pitcher. Calvin Malone, right?” she whispered against my shoulder. Her friend giggled and stared at Ace with batting eyelashes and pouty red lips.

“Yes,” I said, pulling her hands away from my body and turning to face her. She was beautiful. Young and tan with a pair of lips that looked capable of sucking the peel right off a banana.

“You’re much cuter than your picture,” she said, flirting in the same way her friend was with Ace.

Ace pulled the blonde onto his lap and began whispering something in her ear that made her giggle and blush. He was smooth, that was for sure. Women seemed to flock to him like bees to honey. The brunette returned with a tray of shots, setting them on the table. She glared at the blonde. If looks could kill, that girl would’ve been a goner for sure.

“There’s plenty of room,” Ace said smugly and patted his left knee. I was waiting for the brunette to sling a drink in his face, or at the very least tell him to fuck off, but no. She sat right down on his knee, smiled, and seemed happy enough to share his attention.

“To a fucking kickass season!” Ace shouted and held up one of the shot glasses. We each grabbed ours, repeated his chant, and downed the liquor. It was hot, my throat instantly swelling from the burn. My nostrils widened as I shuddered to push away the pain. Ace laughed. “I’ll turn you into a man yet, hot shot,” he boasted.

“Are you married?” the blonde asked, looking up at me through her mascaraed lashes. She was beside me now, her hands still roaming my chest and stomach.

“No, but I have a girlfriend,” I replied and took a step back.

She followed, moving so close her breasts pushed into my chest, her hands moving up to my shoulders. She lifted onto her toes. “No ring, then it’s not cheating,” she whispered in my ear.

I pried her off of me once again. “I’m not interested.”

I shot a look at Ace, who was now staring daggers through me. “You need to lighten up, hot shot,” he said, his lip curled in disgust. “These are your fans.”

“I just need to get home.” I set my glass down on the table and turned to leave. I almost bumped chests with a tall man with slicked back black hair. He wore an expensive designer suit, one that looked custom made, and smiled with a sincerity mixed with mischievousness that left me slightly intimidated.

“You mean you can’t stay and have a drink with the man who gave you this incredible opportunity?” He spoke with authority.

Shit, shit. Fucking shit.

Immediately, my palms began to sweat. I’d seen pictures of our owner, but never actually met him. “Rhett Hamilton,” he said, extending his hand to mine. His handshake was firm and as confident as his presence.

“Calvin Malone,” I said and felt immediately stupid. Of course he knew my damn name. “Glad to meet you, sir.”

“Sir? No, you call me Rhett, and I know who you are, boy,” he said with a chuckle.

The blonde who had been all over me earlier now seemed more interested in the owner of the team. I was relieved for that but felt panic as he insisted I stay and share a drink with him.

Whitney was going to be pissed.

“What are you drinking, Ace?” Rhett asked. “Patrón?”

“Oh, you know it,” Ace replied, seeming very comfortable around the man. “Shots all around,” he announced as he motioned the blonde waitress back to the table. She seemed irritated that Ace had found not only one woman to replace her, but two. “Right away,” she said with full female sarcasm.

“So, what do you think of the new team?” Rhett asked, directing his question to me. I was dumbfounded, a little star struck, and still nervous that I wasn’t on my way to Whitney.

“It looks like a great bunch of guys,” I replied. “I’m sure we’ll take the league by storm.”

“I like your attitude,” Rhett said as he pulled a chair from the table behind him and pushed it towards the booth. “Have a seat.” It didn’t sound like a suggestion, so I did.

Our shots arrived, and we all cheered before pouring them down our throats. It was smoother that time, not nearly as difficult to swallow.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I knew Whitney was becoming angrier by the minute. “I really need to go,” I told Ace.

“Rhett showing up and asking you to stay is not something you blow off,” Ace said sternly. “Especially for some girl.”

“She just moved here, and she isn’t just some girl.” My tongue felt thick, and the words started to slur from my lips. I was lightheaded, my stomach was churning, and the heat in my throat from the last shot was burning its way through my gut.

“Rookies with relationships never work,” Ace snarled. “One of two things happen. They dump the chick and go on to be amazing players, or they keep the girl and end up pumping gas at Sunoco.”

“You’re full of shit,” I argued. “It’s not like that.”

“Well, then, you need to break her in right, so sit, have another drink with your teammates and the man who signs your paycheck,” Ace insisted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe I was being so stupid. “She’s gonna have to get used to sharing you.”

I looked around the table, at the expectations staring back at me, and knew he was right. I was here because of Rhett Hamilton. The least I could do was give him a few minutes of my time. Whitney would just need to understand.

Rhett complimented me on my pre-season training. Apparently, he had been watching from the sidelines and through videos sent to him by the coaches. It felt good to hear him praise my efforts and even say he was lucky to have me on his team. Another shot was pushed in front of me, and then another.

It was getting late, but Ace kept insisting that Whitney was pissed already, so why not stay and make it worth it. The more shots I drank, the more sense Ace made.

I watched Ace’s hands, both of them traveling up the girls’ skirts. He pushed open the blonde’s legs, giving me a clear view of her shaved pussy before sliding his finger inside her. “Nice, huh?” he smirked.

Her hips rocked back and forth against his finger, her eyes closed. Her breathing became rapid, and she acted as if she would orgasm right there at the table while we all watched.

“You’ve always been a wild man, Ace.” Rhett laughed, watching the show. The brunette’s lips were suctioned to Ace’s neck as he continued finger fucking the blonde.

This guy acts like a rock star. It’s incredible.

Ace whispered something to the blonde, and she giggled. His finger slid out from between her legs, and she stood from his lap. Her eyes lingered on mine as she moved slowly toward me.

Fuck, no. Oh shit.

Before I could protest, she straddled me, grinding her sex into mine. Her skirt hiked up around her waist, she held onto my shoulders as she leaned back to give me a peek at the pink pussy Ace had just been teasing. Her flesh was smooth and pink, not a trace of hair anywhere. My cock hardened as her ass cheeks ground into my shaft. My eyes lifted from between her legs and focused on the large breasts that almost burst from her top.

Alcohol flowed through my veins, more prevalent than blood, and when she pulled my head down into the softness of her ample cleavage, I didn’t fight her as hard as I should have.

Shit. What the hell am I doing?

Unwinding her arms from around my neck, I lifted my face from her breasts, getting ready to pull her off me.

Slap!

The sharp sting on my cheek surprised the hell out of me. I looked at the blonde, thinking it had to have been delivered by her, but she was staring wide eyed at someone beside me.

As if in slow motion, my head turned, and fuck, fuck, fuck, Whitney was standing there, glaring down at me.

“Whitney,” I murmured, still in shock that she was truly there.

Her eyes were wild, her lips pursed tightly together, and her fists clenched by her sides making me think she was coming in for another swing. I pushed the blonde off my lap, stood and tried to reach for her.

She turned quickly, mumbled something that sounded like “fuck you,” and stormed toward the front door.

CHAPTER THREE

e

Whitney

M
y nails dug into my clenched fists, and I could still feel the burn on my palm where it planted hard against Calvin’s cheek. This blonde, whoever she was, obviously didn’t care that I’d arrived. Her skirt was still hiked up showing her pink slit not only to Calvin but to anyone nearby.

What was I thinking? I should have never come here.

I couldn’t think in that moment, and I certainly couldn’t stand to listen to Calvin’s apologies. I pushed my way through the crowded bar and out the front door. “Whitney, wait!” Calvin’s voice called out as I hailed a cab. My arm was gripped, and I spun towards the man who was supposed to love me. The man I’d given up everything for.

“Don’t—” I started, trying to jerk away from his grip.

“Please, Whitney, forgive me!” he pleaded, louder than I would have liked. People passed us by, staring at our openly displayed drama and offering up looks of pity, disgust, and some of amusement.

I just want to go home. Not to Calvin’s, but home to Indiana.

“I told them I had to go. I promise I tried to leave,” he said, his words slurring together as he drooled and spoke at the same time. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair sticking up all over his head.

This was not the boy I fell in love with in high school, not the one who played college baseball and winked at me from the pitcher’s mound, and he was certainly not the one who promised to love me forever.

A yellow cab pulled to the curb, and the driver leaned towards his open passenger window. “You need a ride or what?”

“Yes,” I said, moving to the back door. Before my hand could reach the handle, Calvin had me by the waist, crying and begging for me to listen and not to leave him. “Get in the car, Calvin,” I ordered. “You’re gonna be arrested for public intoxication.”

I opened the back door and guided Calvin inside the cab. My fingers smashed against the metal frame as I created the barrier to stop his head from slamming into it. Once he was safely inside, I thought about sending him home alone,
but where would I go?
All my clothes were at Calvin’s, so I climbed into the back seat next to him.

“I’m so sorry, Whitney. Please forgive me,” he pleaded. “It wasn’t how it looked. I… she… it wasn’t how it looked.”

I didn’t respond. There was nothing to say in that moment. I was pissed. I had no idea who that girl was, or why she was spreading her legs for my man, or why he allowed it. He was drunk, useless right now, and I just wanted to get him to bed.

The cab pulled up in front of Calvin’s apartment building. He was nearly passed out, leaning heavily against the window, and had drool falling from the side of his mouth. I reached into my purse and handed the cab driver a twenty.

“Thank you,” I said, embarrassed beyond measure.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

“No, I got it,” I replied and clenched my fingers around Calvin’s nipples, twisting and pulling until he let out a yelp. “We’re home.” My voice was amazingly calm.

His eyes were so red I could barely see the blue in them. He climbed out of the cab, stopped at the steps of his apartment building and puked on the sidewalk.

Great, now I’m supposed to take care of him?

“I love you,” he mumbled and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I guided him into the building and then up the three flights of stairs. My back was aching from supporting most of his weight, and my head hurt from the anger that was raging through my veins.

Finding the key was no easy task with Calvin leaning on me as I dug through my purse, but I finally managed to get us both inside before waking any of the neighbors.

Calvin tried to fall onto the couch, but I pulled him down the hallway to his bedroom. A large king bed was situated in the center of the room, perfectly made thanks to me. Two glasses of champagne sat on the nightstand where I’d planned a romantic greeting when he arrived home.

But he didn’t come home, did he? No, he was busy getting a lap dance from some slut!

I let him fall back onto the mattress and pulled off his shoes. I wasn’t sure if he had a bag or anything at the bar, and as soon as I started worrying about it, I stopped myself.

He doesn’t deserve my concern.

I worked the button of his jeans open then pulled down the zipper. He was like dead weight, not cooperating at all as I lifted his backside to pull the denim away from his body. His legs were dangling over the edge of the bed, and his eyes would barely stay open as he tried to speak. I couldn’t make out anything he said, just “sorry” and “love” stood out from the mumblings. My body was too sore, and I was too angry to bother with pulling him up higher onto the mattress. Instead, I grabbed a pillow, shoved it under his head and tossed a blanket over his limp and lifeless body.

He should be thankful I didn’t put that pillow over his face!

It was obvious he wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon, so I shut off the light and moved to the living room. I had already made myself at home here during the hours I waited for Calvin to arrive, but now it didn’t seem like home at all.

My phone vibrated in my purse. I searched for it until it was found near the bottom under my wallet. My best friend’s face appeared on my screen and tears welled up in my eyes.

“Hello,” I said as calmly as I could.

“What’s wrong?” Holly asked frantically.

“Nothing.” I wiped tears from my cheeks as I spoke.

“Bullshit, Whitney, spill it!” Holly demanded.

We’d been best friends since grade school, probably even before. As far back as I can remember, Holly was there. So it wasn’t a surprise that she picked up on the anxiety in my voice. “It’s just been a long night,” I admitted.