Hard Ball
Stadium Series Book 1
S.A. Clayton
Copyright © 2021 by S.A. Clayton
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.
To the real Josh Anderson.
I’m sorry I didn’t google the name before getting attached. But thanks for being okay with being my books hero.
Contents
1. Harper
2. Harper
3. Josh
4. Harper
5. Josh
6. Harper
7. Josh
8. Harper
9. Josh
10. Harper
11. Josh
12. Harper
13. Josh
14. Harper
15. Josh
16. Harper
17. Josh
18. Harper
19. Josh
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Also by S.A. Clayton
1
Harper
The bar is packed as my eyes look around trying to find Mel, who texted that she’s already here and ready to get drunk. We’ve been coming to Paul’s Bar since college and although I think we’ve matured beyond needing to get drunk on a Monday night, apparently Mel never got the memo. I’d much rather be at home, binge-watching all four seasons of Stranger Things than be here, pretending to smile all night.
“Harper!” Mel yells from across the room as she motions to the two empty seats at the bar next to her. I wonder for a split second if the entire downtown core decided to come out tonight, and I dread the next few hours. It’s not that I hate Paul’s, it has everything you need to have a great time, aside from the lack of bed or pajamas. There is a line of dartboards along the back wall, a raised stage to my left that is usually reserved for karaoke nights every Saturday, and let’s not forget the wall of TV screens that takes over every one of your senses the closer you get.
Mel yells once again, our eyes meeting as hers tell me to get my ass over to her. The sigh comes naturally as I make my way over to her. Paul’s is known for its round bar, set directly in the middle of the room. The dark oak bar top is covered in stickers, something I try not to think about because if I delve into how they clean it—or don’t—I might never come back. There are dozens of neon bar signs that hang from the ceiling and create a weird glow across the room. When I reach Mel’s side, I tap the bar, getting the bartender’s attention, ordering a rum and Coke.
“What’s wrong with you tonight? You look like I made you come here against your will…” She takes the seat next to me as I roll my eyes because she did pretty much bring me here against my will, promising me a quick drink, but seeing the way she’s dressed and the smile on her face, I know that was all a lie. But her happiness is enough for me to stick this night out because Mel’s the light to my darkness. Her long blonde hair dyed red, and green eyes light up every room she enters, making her extremely intimidating, but in truth, she’s just as much of a dork as I am, just in a different package. But I do notice the looks we get when we’re together, with my dyed blonde hair that’s hiding the person I once was, to the yoga instructor wardrobe that shows just how much effort I put into my appearance. I’m not naïve to the fact that we’re complete opposites, but after seven years of friendship, neither of us can let go.
“Nothing is wrong,” I growl, taking a sip of my drink and looking around at the packed bar around me. I take another even bigger sip, hoping the burn helps get me through the night.
“Nothing, my ass,” Mel says, taking my hand. “Cole was a dipshit, and I never liked him anyway.”
I take a breath because I promised myself a night of not thinking about my asshole ex. But now that’s gone out the window. I know I did the right thing. Cole was a dipshit.
“You know what you need?” she asks, her eyes scanning the room and from the way her gaze lands on every guy in sight, I know exactly what she’s doing and before she opens her mouth, I start shaking my head.
“Don’t even say it,” I mutter, her smile turning devious.
“You need a rebound, someone to get the image of Cole out of your head.”
Little does she know that he himself isn’t inside my head, it’s the image of him fucking his secretary that seems to play on a loop.
“No way, I told you last night that I needed a break from men, for at least a few weeks. I’m not capable of handling their shit right now, I have enough of my own.”
Mel rolls her eyes but seems to ignore my words and spins on her stool, searching the bar once more. As I follow her gaze, I notice the small group of guys congregated near the dartboards surrounded by a group of girls. Mel’s eyes dilate as mine narrow at the scene before me, knowing exactly who those guys are and wanting no part of it.
“No, Mel, anyone but them,” I beg, cringing at the way the girls fawn all over them, the way their egos take over the entire space and it doesn’t take a genius to realize that these guys are pro baseball players.
It’s not uncommon for pros to hang out at Paul’s, it’s been around since the seventies and is usually discrete enough that players can come and go as they please without being harassed by fans… women? That’s a whole other issue altogether. Mel’s devious smile is turned on me and I start shaking my head again, hoping she gets how serious I am about this. There are many reasons to stay away from
