The Ballbusters Dilemma: Unexpected Lovers, #4

By JB HELLER

Archer-freaking-Austin has turned my orderly world upside down.

 

Everything in my life was just peachy, until my roommates ditched me for boyfriends and babies. That's when my brother Bates, got the bright idea to move in, oh and why not invite his teammate slash best friend Archer, to come along too…

 

But what Bates doesn't know, is Archer and I slept together over a year ago, and now he's convinced we're meant to be. I however, strongly disagree. Not only is he my brother's BFF, he's also my client. There is no way I'm going to jeopardize my career by getting involved with him. Nope, not happening.

 

Unfortunately, he's every bit as stubborn and determined as I am and he's not going to let me go without a fight...

 

*A feel good romcom with all the heat that you'd expect to be feelin' in the midst of a baseball players locker room. Note: There were no jockstraps harmed in the making of this book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JB Heller
• Release date: Nov 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393034278

Book preview

I’m at the top of my game—my stats are looking great, and I’m playing better than ever. Now it’s time to get my hands on that one last thing I need to make my life perfect—Lennon Handler.

That woman has had me twisted in knots for the past eighteen months, trying to convince her to give us a shot. She says sleeping together was a mistake—I say it was the wake-up call I needed.

Luckily, I am a man not easily deterred, and I’ve never shied away from hard work. Hell, just take my career, for example. As a kid, I dreamed of being the best pitcher Major League Baseball had ever seen, and look at me now—I’m one of the highest-paid starting pitchers in MLB.

If Lennon thinks I’m going to drop this, she’s lost her damn mind. I’m every bit as stubborn as she is, and this is a game I’m going to win. Even if I have to play dirty.

FOUR MONTHS AGO . . .

Are you sure you’re not a lesbian? You know you can tell me if you are. Carrie Larson’s daughter just came out and she’s thirty-two, my mother says into the phone.

No, Momma. For the last time, I am not into chicks, I mutter, rolling my eyes. Why is it that everyone thinks that just because I have a vagina, I should want someone to come home to at night? I don’t hear you hassling Bates about his relationship status.

Don’t be so crude, she chastises, and again, I roll my eyes, thankful this conversation is taking place over the phone. And Bates is a man. They take longer to mature. Besides, he’s so focused on his career right now. A girlfriend would be too distracting.

I scoff. Wow.

What?

"What about my career? Am I not allowed to put my wants and needs ahead of some antiquated belief that women should be wives and mothers first and foremost?"

My mom huffs, clearly getting frustrated with me. I didn’t say that, Lennon. I’m simply saying you haven’t brought anyone home since you were in high school. Don’t you want a family, sweetheart?

I sigh. This is not an argument I want to have right now—or ever. Look, Momma, I’ve gotta go. I have a meeting with Archer in a few minutes, and I need to get ready.

Oh, how is he? I’ve always loved that boy. She practically swoons over the line.

I’m so very tempted to roll my eyes again. He’s fine. Now I really do have to go. Love you. I’ll talk to you next week, I say, ending the call before she can get another word in. It’s the only way. As my little Aussie grandma would say—my momma could talk the leg off an iron horse.

Flopping into my chair, I rest my head back and rub my temples. I have goals, and they require all of my time and attention to achieve them. I’m driven and on a mission. I will be the best damn sports agent this city—no, this country has ever seen. Having a man in my life would only slow me down. They’re like children; you have to feed and walk them every day, and I don’t have time for that.

Archer strolls into my office and drops into one of the seats across from my desk, pulling me from my thoughts. I shift my gaze to him, and he grins at me, looking better than any man has a right to with his dark-brown hair hidden beneath his backwards baseball cap.

How’s my little spitfire today? he asks, relaxing into his seat.

"I’m not your little anything, I mutter, but he catches it, judging by the smirk on his stupidly attractive face. I straighten then run a hand through my hair, pushing it away from my face. Right, so how would you feel about an endorsement deal with Primal?"

His piercing blue eyes lock on me as a slow smile curves his lips. Seriously?

"Would I joke about this? You asked me for Primal, and I got it."

Archer is out of his seat and around my desk in seconds, scooping me into a massive bear hug. You are the shit, Lenny! he hoots as he spins me around in a circle.

Oh my God, he smells good.

Shit. Why am I smelling him? Put me down, asshole! I demand, slapping at his broad shoulders.

Gently, he places me on my feet but hovers in my personal bubble.

You’re looking particularly fine today, spitfire, he murmurs as his gaze dips all the way to my pointed stilettos then rakes slowly up my body, over my black, high-waisted, skinny trousers and pausing at the lace camisole peeking through the low cut of my emerald-green blazer.

I arch a brow and smirk. I know.

His grin is devastating, and I fight like hell to keep my reaction to it and him under wraps. But he knows what he does to me—he always has, the bastard.

Drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, he shakes his head. I bet you do, he murmurs. But I like telling you anyway.

His nearness causes my heart rate to spike, and butterflies swarm in my stomach. My fight-or-flight instinct flares to life, and I’m about to kick him in the shin to make him back the hell up, but Archer knows when I’ve hit my limit and retreats to his side of the desk again.

I knew you’d land the deal, but I didn’t think it’d happen this quick, he says as he sits then stretches his long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle.

I shrug, relief spreading through my veins now that there’s a barrier between us once more, then lower into my own seat. You said it—I’m the shit.

We spend the next twenty minutes going over the finer details of the contract before I hand Archer a pen so he can sign on the dotted line. His fingers brush mine as he takes it from me, clearly a deliberate move. Everything with Arch is intentional.

What up, bitches? Bates’ voice booms through the room as he strides in like he owns the place then deposits himself in the chair next to Archer.

Bitches? I query. Is that the way you refer to your best friend and the best freakin’ agent you’ve ever had?

Bates snorts. You’re the only agent I’ve ever had.

Yeah, but I’m still the best, I tell him, sliding a stack of papers across my desk to him.

His beefy hand shoots out to take them the second they’re within his reach. What’s this?

Read it, I say in a bored tone.

Archer tilts his head, curiosity in his eyes as Bates reads the first few lines of the contract I just gave him.

Fuck yeah! Bates yells, jumping to his feet and pumping his fist in the air.

What is it? Archer asks.

I grin at my stupid big brother as he strikes half a dozen different poses with his hand on or near his face. "You’re looking at the new face of Lux Moisturizer for him." He says ‘for him’ in a hilarious French accent.

Archer bursts out laughing. Are you serious? You pansy-ass motherfucker.

The look of elation on Bates’ face drops, and he glares at his childhood BFF. Take it back, he demands.

Just like I did when I was a teenager, I know when they are about to come to blows over the dumbest shit. So, I sit back in my seat and wait for the shitshow that is these two to begin. I wish I had some popcorn.

Make me, Archer says, smirking.

Bates moves fast, his hand shooting out to slap Archer across the cheek. The sound reverberates through the room, and a burst of laughter spills from my mouth. I clasp a hand over it because these guys are freaking weird about their little bitch fights and take them super seriously.

Archer gapes at Bates. You just slapped me!

You deserved it, Bates retorts, a smug smile tilting his lips.

Fuck you, fucker, Archer spits, tackling my brother to the ground where they roll around like a pair of toddlers fighting over a stuffed animal and knock a vase of flowers off the corner of my desk.

Glass shatters. My assistant, Clay, rushes in, his eyes wide with panic until he sees Archer pinning Bates to the floor in some MMA-style hold. Clay narrows his eyes at them. Jesus H. Christ, I leave my desk for thirty minutes and you two sneak in.

You love us! Bates calls out as Clay turns his back on them, returning to his work station.

He really doesn’t, I say. My poor assistant hates it when my brother and Archer are in the office at the same time. Something always manages to get broken, and he’s the poor sucker who has to clean it up. Unluckily for Clay, I’ve taken to booking them in together so I don’t get stuck alone with Arch for too long.

Archer scoffs as he offers Bates a hand. Of course he does.

Yeah, everyone loves us, Bates chimes in.

Someone really needs to get those egos of yours under control, I mutter.

Whatever. We’re fucking awesome, and you’re just jealous, Bates says, returning to his seat.

So jealous, I say, deadpan.

Knew it. He offers Archer a fist to bump.

That was sarcasm, bro, Archer tells him, wrapping a hand around my brother’s fist and pushing it back to him.

Bates shrugs. Doesn’t mean it isn’t true. He smiles big and bright, causing my own lips to curve. His happiness is contagious.

My brother may be a dumbass, but he’s my dumbass. And I love him.

Lennon thinks bringing Bates and me in together means she can avoid too much one-on-one time with me. Silly little spitfire, I am so onto her. As if that would be enough to deter me from my pursuit.

I’m all over this shit. When Bates stands to leave, I get to my feet too, acting like I’m ready to roll. I follow him all the way to the elevator and wait for him to get inside. Shit, man, I forgot to tell Lenny about that chick who keeps blowing up my social media inboxes with titty shots. She knows how to block that shit. I’ll catch you at Mulligan’s tonight.

Bates pulls a face. I don’t know why that’s a problem, dude. But whatever, he says with a shrug as the metal doors slide closed in front of him.

There is no chick, but he doesn’t need to know that. Bates hooks up with cleat-chasers every other weekend and finds half of them through the nasty pics they send him on his socials. I, however, haven’t touched a woman since I was with Lennon over a year ago.

It’s been a struggle—not turning down the diamond dolls, but keeping my hands off Lennon. She is temptation personified.

I slide into her office like a ninja—'cause I’m a stealthy motherfucker—then shut and lock the door quietly behind me. She’s sitting at her desk, looking all sexy and shit as she glares at her computer screen.

Goddamn she’s beautiful.

My lips rise as I watch her. I’m being a total creeper, but this is nothing. I’m willing to go to extraordinary lengths to win Lennon over. Whatever it takes to get my