I’m Ace Newman. Heavy hitter. Superstar short stop. A Beast. The wild man. So what if I party a little, drink too much, and screw a different woman every night? So what if my teammates are getting younger every season and retirement is staring me in the face?
They can’t get rid of me that easy. I’ll do whatever it takes to stay in the game. I refuse to be tamed. Especially by any one woman.
Then why do I keep thinking about Holly...
NOTE: The Beasts of Baseball series follows the sexy exploits of the players on the baseball team The Beasts, and the women they love. Each book can be read as a standalone.
Prepare for a raw, emotionally charged HEA with No Cliffhanger. And remember, when two dysfunctional lives collide, it’s going to leave a mess!
CHAPTER ONE
Ace
It was a new season, guaranteed to be better than the last. I was still reeling over losing our chance at the World Series. One fucking game — just one fucking game — and we could have had our chance at being champs. I knew some of the guys choked, never having been so close before, but I was used to winning, and after being in the series four times without clinching the victory, I was ready and thought the Beasts were my ticket.
Coach had given me hell, trying to throw blame on me for losing. Seriously, me? I was the best player on the team. Hell, nearly the best in the entire league with a batting average of .348 and more putouts than anyone else on the field last season.
So how the fuck was that lose mine?
The coach had called me late the night before and asked me to come in early, to talk. Yeah, fucking right! I was late, almost by an hour from the time he wanted me here, but still a few minutes early for practice.
Coach Griffin’s face was bright red, and sweat was beginning to bead up on his forehead as he leaned over his desk to spew his anger onto me. It had been awhile since I was called into his office, so I guess he’d been waiting awhile to unload onto me. I tried to listen, I truly did, but watching his dark skin turn nearly purple was distracting, and the spit that sprayed from his lips wasn’t helping me to focus.
“I get it,” I said, hoping to calm him down.
“You don’t fucking get shit!”
“Yeah, I’m late for our meeting, got it.” I clarified and offered up what I thought was a charming smirk. The look in the coach’s eyes told me he didn’t find me charismatic.
“This is serious, Ace.” His tone was finally lowering, but his breathing still rapid. Man, he was really out of shape.
“You need a glass of water?” I asked with sarcastic concern. “You’re no spring chicken anymore. You need to take it easy.”
“No, I don’t need any fucking water, and that’s something you need to understand too, Ace. You aren’t so young anymore either.”
His words cut through me like a knife. The last thing I wanted to hear or even needed to hear was that I was getting old, especially for major league baseball. I was Ace motherfuckin’ Newman, bad ass of baseball, one of the best in the league. I was the guy who could hit any pitch, catch any ball that flew even remotely near me, the one others feared on the field.
I cursed under my breath, keeping my face neutral, forcing myself to stand there and deal with this shit.
This out of shape motherfucker should be kneeling in front of me, not screaming in my face. This old fool was spouting out nonsense now, just plain nonsense.
Coach’s voice got even softer, which was more deadly than any scream. “There are plenty of guys out there faster, smarter, and younger that would love to take your place.” He looked me dead in the eye when he said it.
Nice motivation, Coach. Appreciate it.
“There isn’t anyone who could fill these shoes, but you, on the other hand, don’t you be a fool. I would worry about your future, especially with that high blood pressure tightening your chest.” I leaned against the doorframe of his office and watched his face turn a deeper shade of purple as I smirked, knowing I really should shut the hell up.
“Ace, I’m warning you, watch yourself.” His eyes glared into mine, beady and brown. The thick eyebrows that were recently bouncing above them were now pushed far down on his forehead, his resentment evident in every wrinkle. “The only reason you’re here right now is because I fought for you, so maybe I am a fool.”
“Relax old man, I’m a little late,” I explained, barely refraining from rolling my eyes. “It’s the first day of practice, not the World Series.”
I heard voices coming down the hall and glanced over my shoulder to see our first baseman, Marty Peters, heading to the indoor practice field alongside one of the new relief pitchers, Luke Singleton. The rookie was taller than I expected, better looking too. He smiled, lifting his chin at me in a cocky nod I immediately hated, maybe because it reminded me too much of me. Damn, his teeth were so straight and white I felt like I’d wandered into a Trident commercial.
“Hey, good to see ya!” Marty exclaimed with a quick pat on the back. I didn’t move from my seemingly relaxed, don’t give a shit position against the doorframe.
“Yeah, you too.” I stared the new guy down. His smile never faded. In actuality, I think it grew. Wow, this kid was either fearless or stupid, and from the blank look in his eye, I would bet on stupid.
Marty gave me another slap on the shoulder, and they went on their way. The rest of the team was heading to the indoor field, and I really didn’t feel like continuing this conversation where they could hear. Calvin nodded as he passed by, and I tried to control the smirk on my face, but it grew quickly as I turned back to the coach.
“I’m not reliving last season.” Coach gritted his teeth. “Your partying ways, cocky attitude, and selfishness is part of what cost us the chance at the series last season.” He stopped and stared at me for a moment. “Get here on time, stay away from the bars, and keep your fucking nose clean, or you’ll be traded quicker than a schoolyard lunch.”
Yeah, so I partied. It’s not like I was the only one.
I still held my own on the field. Hell, I held more than my own. The partying had never taken a toll on my game, especially my swing. I always stayed focused. I always stayed in control. No matter what anyone else wanted to say, that was the fucking truth.
I laughed at his words, but my voice shook a bit from the anxiety rocketing through my veins. He seriously thought I cost the team the series?
“You know I’m the best fucking player you got, and there’s no way in hell you can pin that loss on me,” I spouted, barely containing my rage. “Are we done?”
He shook his head slowly, lowering his chin onto his chest, and finally taking his beady hot eyes from me. He blew out a breath, but before he could speak, I jumped back in, firing a parting shot. “It’ll be fine. Don’t give yourself a stroke, old man.” I knew I was testing his last nerve when I flashed him a bright smile after my words.
Wow, how’s that for a welcome back for the new season?