New Adult Drama Watch Over Me
* * *
Contemporary Romance: Fisher’s Light Worth the Trip
The Story of Us
Wish You Were Mine
* * *
Romantic Comedy/Mystery Jed Had to Die
* * *
The Fool Me Once Series: Shame on You (Fool Me Once #1) Shame on Me (Fool Me Once #2) Shame on Him (Fool Me Once #3)
* * *
Psychological Thriller Bury Me
The Golden Sombrero
A Balls in Play Novella
By Kate Stewart
The boys are gearing up for another world series and have suddenly become superstitious. The girls are just fine with it, until the new routine includes abstinence.
Copyright ? 2018 by Kate Stewart All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Golden Sombrero- In baseball, a golden sombrero is a player's inglorious feat of striking out four times in a single game.
Alice
I looked over to Rafe and licked the salt off the side of my margarita glass. His eyes flared before his subtle, but all-knowing smirk appeared. Cocky bastard! He might have won the battle before dinner by effectively ignoring the naked tease I did for him before I got dressed, but I was determined to win the war.
Erica and I exchanged a conspiratorial glance across the table as the guys rattled on about strategy. Our husbands—two of the sexiest and most talented players in baseball—were gearing up to take the field tomorrow in an attempt to win the last game in the world series. Well, it will be the last game of the season if they continue their winning streak and the second series win for them both.
Erica and I were confident it was in the bag, but because they didn’t get past the playoffs last year, Ren and Rafe were in a different state.
They were nervous . . . and suddenly so superstitious that they’d decided sex with their wives was off the table until the series was taken. It was an old superstition of Ren’s from high school that Erica told me about at lunch yesterday when I couldn’t figure out what had gotten into my husband. Rafe always rose to the occasion, literally, when I made any sort of pass at him. He’d never turned me down for sex and was usually the one to initiate it, but for the past week, he’d done everything to avoid it.
Erica and I decided that we were going to put that bullshit, half-baked notion that abstinence enhanced performance to rest tonight.
The four of us decided to have an early dinner and spend a quiet night at home. We still had the home field advantage, which meant tomorrow’s game was the last Denver would host. Our ballers had no intention of packing any bags, so when the guys were done obsessing at dinner, they would both go home and tear up the carpet alone in an attempt to psych themselves up for the game.
Despite the amazing fit of baseball pants and the showcase of athleticism on the field, baseball was all about numbers, statistics, and a hell of a lot of preparation. My husband, Rafe “The Bullet” Hembrey was currently and inarguably the best pitcher in the league. Erica’s husband, Ren “Tin Man” Makavoy, was his catcher and go-to strategist. The only thing missing was Andy, a mentor for both Rafe and Ren who had to fly home due to the impending birth of his daughter. I knew if we didn’t have our all-stars out at this Mexican restaurant, they would no doubt have Andy on facetime, contractions or no contractions. It was the nature of the baseball beast.
All three men lived by the family-first philosophy, but end season was the one and only time we let that rule slide, especially when the series was on the line. Our boys ran with it, trying their best to maintain their badassery without giving away that their emotions and nerves were the true rulers of the day. They were as nervous as school girls on prom night. Our job was to take their shit with a grain of salt and do whatever we could to be supportive. Neither of us minded doing our jobs until they pulled the no “O” card.
It was one thing to withhold sex with your spouse out of a long-running superstition, but it was another thing entirely to withhold all sex because you got an inkling. Erica and I weren’t a couple of horny teenagers. We were mothers and wives who deserved the same amount of consideration. It had been a long season for all of us, not just the two men ranting over fajitas.
“Rafe, honey, eat something,” I said, softly leaning his way so he got a money shot of my cleavage. Both men’s eyes darted down briefly out of man instinct and then quickly away. Erica winked to let me know she took no offense. They were boobs. And both men were boob men, which was why we’d both worn tight-fitting dresses and push-up bras that had our girls held up high and exposed just enough for any healthy man within a small radius to take notice. Basically, our tits were on the table in offering along with the fajitas.
There was zero room for shame when we had goals. In the name of seduction, I wore my long blonde hair down—just the way Rafe liked it—and painted my lips in crimson, which should have jogged up some healthy sexual memories.
Rafe surveyed my tabletop tits.
“Stop it. Those are my tits, and everyone is looking.”
“Sorry.” I shrugged. “I think they’re confused as to who their owner is at the moment. They just wanted a little attention.”
He moved in, his voice dropping to a heated whisper. “Tomorrow night, I’ll give them all the attention they want,” he promised, eyeing the two breast friends on my chest as if they had turned on him. “And I believe I’ve made it abundantly fucking clear who they belong to.”
“Oh?” I said, a little smile playing on my lips. I could feel the tension between us and reveled in the little victory of seeing him squirm when I ran my tongue across my lower lip.
“Stop that too,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
“Are you getting hard?” I asked in a breathy whisper. “Because I think I saw a private dining room back there for parties. We can start in there with my lips and then . . .”
There was a small amount of commotion on the other side of the table, and we both looked over to see Erica looking guilty while Ren fumed.
“Everything okay over there?” I asked amused.
“Perfect,” Erica said, doing a horrible job of hiding her shit-eating grin. We were up to no good and it felt great.
Rafe darted his eyes between the two of us. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, feigning innocence. If he wasn’t going to come out with a confession, I wasn’t about to either.
Ren’s brows rose as he looked between his wife and me. “Are you two boycotting our cockblock?”
Ren was amused as we remained mute; Rafe was not. I had a feeling I was in for more of a fight.
“What are you talking about?” Erica asked innocently.
Ren leaned in. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. This morning, you cooked breakfast naked.”
“I was hot,” she said before she took a scoop of guacamole.
“You were hot, huh?” He chuckled. “But you still wore your Uggs?”
Erica shrugged.
“Okay, if that’s how you want to play it,” Ren whispered with a sly grin.
“You aren’t making it past midnight, Cinderella,” she whispered back, loud enough for us all to hear. Ren rubbed his hands together with glee. Her challenge was accepted.
“Oh, it’s on, baby, but my bedtime is nine,” he warned playfully as she shook her head at his nonsense. “Think you can manage to seduce me by then?”
Erica’s hand disappeared from view. “I really have no clue what you’re talking about,” she murmured as she leaned toward him. A second later, he jerked in surprise, leaving no doubt where her hand had wandered. I burst out laughing as a string of curses erupted from him.