Sweet Spot: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Bad Boys of Summer Book 2) (3 page)

I groaned. “I’ll have something shipped. Until then, just get me a driver. I don’t want to worry about getting lost in this podunk cow town, on top of everything else.”

Mason frowned but took down the note. “You know Trey. Oklahoma City is not a podunk cow town. It’s the largest city in the United States.”

“I thought LA was?”

“Area-wise. It’s a huge place, you’ll see.”

Great. A huge podunk cow town. Just what I needed.

“So, how’s this gonna play out?”

He glanced up. “What do you mean?”

I stared out the window, watching the city below get smaller and smaller as we climbed into the sky. “I mean what the hell’s going to happen. Is this really it? I’m just stuck in Oklahoma for three years?”

“I’m sorry, Trey. They bought out your contract. Well…technically…”

“Yeah, I know. They fucking paid them to take me off their hands. Damn it…”

“You want my advice?”

I eyed him. “Let me guess, pull my head out of my ass, spend more time in the gym than the bar, and stop fucking so many girls?”

Mason chuckled. “Pretty much. Granted, your phrasing is more colorful.”

A lopsided grin pulled at my lips. “What about you? Did I manage to bury your career right along with mine?”

He laughed. “Not exactly. I have to be back in LA by the end of the week.”

“To get all your non pain-in-the-ass clients settled?”

He smiled. “Something like that.”

I nodded. “What about the lawsuit? The endorsement deals? Any chance of shutting that shit down?”

“Working on it. I’m trying to work some networks and get you in with the local companies now that you’ll be in Oklahoma City. The fact that you’ll be there for three years works in your favor. But, until we can do some damage control, you’re not exactly on the top of anyone’s list for a spokesperson or commercial star.”

“Right.” I set my jaw and looked back out the window. “How did I get here, Mase?”

He sighed, like he had the answers but didn’t want to tell me what they were. He knew I already knew. My star rose too quickly. Things got too hot, too fast, and I’d let it all go to my head. I thought my shit didn’t stink and I was untouchable. Looking back, it all made sense, but it didn’t make my fall from grace any less painful.

“Trey, you know I think of you as a friend—more than a client. We’ve been through a lot together. Hell, while you were making your own career, you took me along for the ride. I owe you a lot. But that’s also why I’m so hard on you. I know you’re an all-star. This is your destiny. But you have to pull your shit together if you have a shot at getting back to where you were.”

I shifted my eyes to him. He was dead serious. “You really think I can?”

“I do.”

“Shit. It’s gonna be a lot of work…” I heaved a sigh. I was exhausted just thinking about it.

Mason chuckled and went back to work. “Damn straight.”

“I guess the silver lining is that She-Devil can’t get to me while I’m here. She wouldn’t dream of leaving her little SoCal bubble.”

Kimberly Holmes. She-Devil. Psycho Bitch. One Night Stand From Hell.

She had many names. None of them nice.

A little over a year ago, we’d met at a club. I was already three shots worse for the wear, when she came skating past the VIP rope where me and the boys were throwing down. She was a hot little number. A red mini dress that showed off her ass cheeks with the slightest move. Long, raven black hair, and full, lush lips like sweet little fuckin’ pillows. She’d sweet talked her way to my table and before I could decide what I wanted to do with her, she was under the table, on her knees, wrapping those devil red pillows around my cock. She didn’t care who was watching or what they’d think.

And at the time—neither did I.

When she was done, she jumped up, licked her lips clean, and ran off. Later that night, I found her business card in my pocket. She’d apparently slipped it in there while working me over. She worked as a massage therapist at a local spa. I never went by to see if it was a “happy ending” kinda place or not. But if I was a betting man…

I called her the next night and we hooked up at her place. Things went hot and heavy for about a week. Then she started losing her shit. And that’s when I lost interest. It started innocently enough. She started calling me during the day and leaving long, rambling voicemail messages. Then she started calling my teammates. Although to this day, I still have no idea how she got their contact info. It wasn’t like it was public record. She was hot as hell and could make me lose my mind when I was inside her. She was kinky and up for anything. But when the texts, calls, and random visits became constant, I had to pull the plug.

Needless to say…she didn’t take the breakup well.

To her, we were soulmates and destined to be together forever. To me, she was a great piece of ass. One that needed to get on with her life. But no…she called even more than before until I blocked her number. She stopped by the practice facility all the time. Showed up for every single game, sat as close to my section as she could, and hollered and screamed until security finally put her on the blackball list and stopped her from getting tickets. She left notes on my car, had gifts and flowers delivered to my house, and even tracked down my parents in Arizona and showed up at
their
house.

The girl was one hundred percent fucking psycho.

After that, I met up with her and told her if she continued stalking me, I’d be forced to take out a restraining order. She’d laughed it off and showed up at my house the next day. I called the cops and went to file the paperwork the next day to keep her away from me.

It was the final step in ridding myself of her. At least—that’s what I’d thought.

Instead—it was just the beginning.

Three weeks later, she showed up and told me she was pregnant and that the baby was mine.

We’d used protection—of course—but she claimed one of the damn rubbers must have broken. I couldn’t remember it happening, but I was shit-faced most of the time we were together. Whether I believed it or not—she did. And she made damn sure the entire world knew I was her baby daddy.

Three months ago she gave birth to a boy. I saw pictures on social media. He didn’t look like me, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Until the DNA test was submitted and the results confirmed—there was no way of knowing for sure. Which is why, my lawyers were fighting tooth and nail to get the court to force Kimberly to bring the boy to the clinic to get tested. Why it was taking so long was beyond me. I was ready to go anytime. I just wanted the nightmare to be over.

“I suppose that’s true. She wouldn’t want to travel with the little guy anyway.”

I shrugged. “I just want to take the damn test and prove to her and everyone else that I’m not some deadbeat dad.”

Mason considered me. “And if she’s not lying…?”

That was even scarier than getting traded to the Warriors. I wasn’t sure I was ready to be a father. But I figured if the baby boy was mine—I’d step up and be the best dad I could. Lots of guys on my team had kids and some even had baby mama drama. But having a baby with Kimberly…? No. That wasn’t possible. How could I be expected to co-parent with my deranged stalker?

“She is,” I said, my tone firm, leaving no room for argument.

Mason knew me well enough to know when I wasn’t in the mood to talk. He turned his attention back to his computer, and I slid my headphones on and cranked up some rap music.

* * * *

“Trey, hey man, wake up.”

I opened my eyes and realized I’d fallen asleep. Mason handed me a bottle of water and lowered into his seat opposite mine. I sat up and popped the top on the water. “Thanks. How long was I out?”

“Three hours. We’re getting ready to land.”

I looked over and saw the change in the landscape as we dropped altitude. While I napped, we’d traded the cityscape for long stretches of fields. It looked like a quilt, all patched together. How was I supposed to survive here?

Mason chuckled as he watched my sour expression twist into a scowl. “Oklahoma City isn’t a ranch town. I promise.”

I nodded, but his assurance didn’t go as far as it should have. I had a feeling that I was in for a bout of culture shock either way.

“All right, now, when we land, there are going to be reporters and media—”

“What?” I snapped, jerking around to glare at him.

He sighed. “Trey, don’t,” he said, his tone firm. “There will be reporters at the tarmac. They want to ask you about the trade.”

“Shitty.”

Mason glared at me. “How you feel about being in Oklahoma—”

“Double shitty.”

“Trey,” Mason growled. He fixed me with his eyes and I dropped my smirk. “This is your chance for a fresh start. Get away from Kimberly, the bar fights, the bad boy rep, and all the rest of the bullshit you’ve stirred up in California. It’s gone. Over. Done. Get the hell over it and start acting your age. You want to be a ball player five years from now? Then suit up, shut up, and get your head back in the game.”

I glowered at Mason. I hated to admit it, but he was right. Oklahoma City was the last place on earth I’d wanted to be, but in about twenty minutes, we’d touch down and the sooner I accepted that…the sooner I could get things back on track. “So, what am I supposed to do? Smile? Act like I’m at fuckin’ Disneyland?”

“No,” Mason replied, his tone still terse. He leaned back in his seat and snapped his laptop shut. “No one is expecting you to be happy here. But don’t bash on the entire city at large, call it a cow town, or talk shit about your new team—or your old one, for that matter.”

“So I should just stay in my perfect little box?” I drawled.

“Be gracious. For once in your life, Trey. Be gen
teel
. Talk about it being a new opportunity, a fresh start. Throw out some platitude about turning over a new leaf. People eat that shit up. No problem. Make them like you. Hell, even just
tolerating
you at this point would be a step in the right direction.”

I watched out the window as we dropped lower. It was worth a shot. What else could I possibly lose?

Josie

If I had to watch one more sports clip on ESPN, I was going to lose my flipping mind.

After I finally accepted that there was no way around the dumb-ass assignment from Mr. Jones to wheedle my way into getting an exclusive, sit down interview with Trey Delgado—I dove in with both feet. If I had to do sports—I was going to do it better than anyone else!

In preparation, I’d spent three days doing nothing but watching his previous interviews and old highlight reels. After I conquered the knowledge of his career, I turned my attention to reading about his personal life via a stack of tabloid magazines and combing through all of the sports star gossip websites. At the end of it, I deduced that not only was Trey a douchebag, and a mess off the field, playing the part of a womanizing, ass hat—but according to his stats, he was rapidly falling from his place of former glory on the field as well.

I wasn’t much of a sports fan, but I did grow up in a house full of boys and knew enough about baseball to question why the Warriors had even bothered scooping Trey up from the Coyotes. From the outside, he looked like nothing but trouble. The Warriors were currently on the way up, and I couldn’t imagine Trey being anything but dead weight for them.

But then again…he did knock the ball out of the park at Cody Wright’s debut game with the Warriors, so he couldn’t be
that
bad. And Cody had taken the reins and the whole team rallied behind him, so this trade could turn into a huge win for the team—or a total clusterfuck.

The buzz surrounding the team was that they might even make a playoffs push. From that point of view, I could see where adding a veteran player, and a five-time home run champ, like Trey, would make sense. But according to my research, Trey wasn’t that player anymore. And hadn’t been for a while. On top of that, he brought a truckload of baggage in the form of snark-filled press pieces, bad behavior, and an ongoing paternity suit that was about as public as it could get.

Whatever the Warriors were thinking, it sure as hell wasn’t my call on whether or not it was a good idea. I didn’t give a rat’s ass if the team won or lost. All I needed was one interview. If I could get that—Mr. Jones would have to follow through on his promise to jump start my career.

Now I needed to figure out how on earth I was going to get Trey Delgado to agree to give me an exclusive.

In all of my research, the handful of interviews I’d managed to dig up were short, clipped, and gave me the impression Trey was irritated from the first question. The tabloids portrayed a happy go lucky, party animal persona. Every picture showed him laughing, smiling, and generally living it up. However, in official interview appearances, he was a completely different person. His eyes lost the warm sparkle and became stony and cold. I sure as hell didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his death stare. It appeared that any interview he gave was at the request—or ultimatum—of his PR team. All he gave was the bare minimum. With that in mind, I knew my best chance of scoring an interview would be to get in touch with somebody on his PR team. Which is exactly what I’d been trying to do for the last three days.

Damn it! None of them would take my calls. I didn’t have enough clout as a reporter and I had no credit when it came to the sports world. I’d had enough of “yes, Miss, I’ll have them call you back,” to last me a lifetime.

After I made my way through my call list, I hung up the phone and grumbled to myself, damn near pouting at the bustling coffee shop around me. I was about to hang it up for the day and go down the street for a grocery run, when my phone rang. I leaped for it, spilling hot coffee on my hand in the process. “Ouch!” I set my cup down and accepted the call. I pushed the phone up against my ear while I mopped up my coffee mess. “This is Josie.”

“Jo, it’s Danny. Where are you?”

I sighed. I’d hoped it was one of Trey’s people finally getting back to me. Instead, it was Daniel Paulson, my new camera man. He was the poor unfortunate soul tasked with following me around in my pursuit of Trey Delgado. Luckily for me, he was a nice guy. He was a little over six feet tall, in his late twenties, with a friendly smile, and an easy-going personality. He’d been after me for a coffee date the entire six months he’d been working at the station. I didn’t dislike him, but I wasn’t interested in dating him—or anyone else—for the time being. He didn’t seem to take it too hard though. Which was good. Otherwise this entire interview slash photographer thing would be totally awkward.