Second Chance Hero (Bad Boys Redemption Book 1) Read online

  Second Chance Hero

  Meet bad boy pitcher, Zach Pritchett...

  Two things I love: baseball and Lacey Stark. Back in college, I had them both. But after graduation, I made the biggest mistake of my life. I let Lacey go.

  Five years later, I can’t complain. A Cy Young winner, I’ve achieved what I set out to do—pitching in the Major Leagues. Life is great.

  Until it’s not.

  And the day it all went south? The day Lacey Stark appeared at my post press conference. The reality of not having her slams against my chest. Lacey’s still sexy as hell, sporting more curves and a little more sass. Pitching in the Majors isn’t the only thing I want anymore. Now, it’s time to go after what I’ve denied myself all these years. I want Lacey and will stop at nothing until I make her mine.

  Lacey seems determined to stay away, but we belong together. I know this. I just need to convince her to give me another chance.

  Because one thing is guaranteed, I won’t stop until she’s back in my arms.

  Second Chance Hero

  Kimberly Readnour

  Rae-Allen Publishing

  Copyright © 2017 by Kimberly Readnour

  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.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for references.

  ASIN: B074DLCBW6

  ISBN: 978-1976074387

  Cover Design by Daqri Bernado of Covers by Combs

  Editing by Kelly Hartigan (XterraWeb) editing.xterraweb.com

  Printed by Createspace

  Created with Vellum

  To all fans of Baseball and Romance.

  Contents

  Author Note

  Unforeseen Love: The Novella

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Join Kimberly Readnour’s Newsletter

  Also by Kimberly Readnour

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Author Note

  Baseball! Oh, how I love the game. There are a few things I need to clarify in case you read this and scratch your head, thinking, “Hey wait a minute.”

  In order for the storyline to work, I had to adjust the College World Series timeframe. Normally, the wonderful series lasts through June, but that wasn’t going to work for me. So what could I do? Well, I pulled out the fiction card and cheated. I ended the season during graduation. Please, please, please forgive me. During the time of writing, I just couldn’t see any other way around it. Hopefully, it doesn’t throw you off too badly.

  Unforeseen Love: The Novella

  Pick up your FREE novella today for joining my newsletter, and be among the first to learn about my new releases and giveaways. Find out more after you read Second Chance Hero.

  1

  LACEY

  Citi Field Stadium

  Zach Pritchett. The one name I never want to see on my itinerary. Ever. But I’m not stupid and know the possibility of our paths crossing exists. I just refused to believe they ever would. I don’t care that the position I accepted places me in press conferences with professional athletes. There are one hundred and sixty-two regular season games. With a five-man pitching rotation, the probability of being in the same room with him is rather low. But as today proves, my odds are not favorable. Then again, when have they ever been when it comes to that man?

  I close my eyes and try concentrating on the surrounding chatter. The buzz of well-acquainted sports journalists—the deep masculine chuckles and feminine laughs from people comfortable being here—fills my ears.

  I’m so jealous.

  Although, I shouldn’t be. I’ve put in as much, if not more, legwork as any other person in this room. I’ve earned my spot to be here.

  As far as Zach goes? I’m seated in the fourth row toward the edge and highly doubt he’ll see me. Of course, I could shrink farther in my seat and hide behind the row in front of me. No matter what I do, I’ll still be nervous.

  God, five years have passed, and my heart still can’t handle facing Zach. No way am I prepared to talk to him.

  “Excuse me,” a masculine voice says.

  A young, dark-haired gentleman with eyes the color of a mocha latte stands to my right. I’d place him around my age of twenty-seven.

  “Sure.” I shift my legs to let him pass and try to pretend being here doesn’t freak me out.

  Mocha Latte Eyes sits next to me and opens his briefcase. As he rifles through his belongings, I continue to stare straight ahead and act casual. But it’s almost time to start. Any second, I’ll be in the same room with the guy who shattered my heart.

  Tiny sweat beads form on my forehead, and I casually raise my hand and dab with my fingers to soak up the evidence.

  Sweet Jesus. I’m totally freaking out.

  Dangerous thoughts infiltrate my mind. Stupid ones like what if Zach notices me and shows no signs of regret? Or worse yet, doesn’t recognize me. Or remember what we shared. I mean, my body has changed. I’m no longer that perky, slim college girl he let go. I’m not sure my fragile ego could withstand him passing over me. No matter how much I hate him.

  The ball in the pit of my stomach tightens as I straighten my back. I’m so not ready to face him. Why, of all the assignments my boss gave me, do I get stuck in the same room as my ex?

  New plan. Let everyone else ask the questions while I absorb the answers.

  And believe me, there will be plenty of material to sort through with all questions directed toward Zach. After all, he swept into town and pitched a no-hitter against my beloved team, the Mets.

  Asshole.

  The man can pitch. Always could. Even in college. And what’s worse, his success proves we made the right choice to end things. That he made the right choice. I never agreed to end anything, but I didn’t fight to keep him either. Although, I tried once. Three months after he left me, I went to see him. A sharp pain slices through my chest at that memory.

  Damn it. I’m not strong enough for this.

  “Are you new to the Times?” Mr. Mocha Latte Eyes asks.

  Jesus, girl. Quit comparing this guy to a latte. I must be in dire need of coffee. Or something stronger to relax my nerves.

  “Not exactly, but this i
s my first assignment.”

  I’ve been with the New York Times for almost five years now. It’s taken me awhile to get to the sports journalist position, and even though it wasn’t what I had intended to do, I’m grateful for this opportunity. But I’ll keep that information locked tight. No stranger needs to know my life story. No one does.

  “I’m Brayden Hicks with CBS New York.”

  He extends his hand, and when I shake it, his hand is warm and soft. Not at all like the callused ones I prefer. Like pitcher’s hands.

  “Lacey. Lacey Stark. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Pleasure’s mine. If you need anything, I’m here to help.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” I end with a warm smile and turn my attention to the front. Brayden seems nice, but I can’t focus on any other guy right now.

  “Okay, we’ll have the coach answer a few questions, then open it up for the one you’re all waiting for, Zach Pritchett,” the media relations guy announces.

  Brayden doesn’t say anything else and faces forward himself. My stomach churns. This interview will not be good.

  I swallow my insecurity and watch as Coach McFay steps to the platform. A moment later, the blond-headed star pitcher waltzes in behind with his confident swagger. He always was a cocky bastard. That hasn’t seemed to change.

  As Zach extends his arms to pull the chair out, his white shirt sleeves fit snug against those massive biceps. His six-foot-three-inch frame settles into the seat, and I can’t help but gawk. Damn, he’s filled out nicely since the last time I saw him. All lean muscle, he looks good. All hints of boyish features are long gone, replaced by a strong, chiseled jaw masked with stubble. He never did shave on the days he started.

  I bite my nail as my focus shifts to his perfectly thinned lips. Oh, those lips that dominated every kiss. Spearmint floods my senses from the memory of that perfection, his greedy tongue claiming me. He always tasted of spearmint. Does he still?

  No. No. No. I will not allow my thoughts to stray there. Zach Pritchett crushed me when he left, and I never fully recovered. I will not revisit that memory.

  “What was the morale of the dugout?”

  “At what part did you let the no-no enter your mind?”

  Questions are flung at Zach, but he answers each one with the grace of a seasoned player. I’m not surprised; he’s always been good at everything he does.

  Zach smiles and brings his large fingers to his chin. My body betrays me as my nipples harden and press against my bra, yearning for those big hands to caress my skin. Among other things. He sure could fuck. He brought my orgasms to a whole other level, and no one since has matched his skill. Or even come close.

  That pisses me off more.

  “What does the last out of a no-hitter feel like?”

  To hell with these bullshit questions. How do you think Zach felt? He felt freaking fantastic. I need a question that gets to the heart of the matter. I’m sorry, Mr. Pritchett, but I know exactly what to ask. Your physical appearance and performance may have improved, but you haven’t shed your little habit. And I’ll be the one to call you out on it.

  “Mr. Pritchett,” I shout. “Do you expect the pain in your left shoulder to be a lingering problem?”

  Zach’s head snaps toward mine, our gazes locking.

  Warmth travels through my bloodstream and heats places that haven’t been alive in months. Crap. I think I just messed up.

  2

  ZACH

  Five Years Ago

  Hours after the game, adrenaline still pulses through my veins. I pitched through the eighth and brought Penn State the win. I’m pumped.

  Thank God, the ice down helped my pitching shoulder. It feels great, which is good. I don’t have time for nagging problems. This is my last year to pitch at the collegiate level, and if I’m going pro and pushing for the contract my agent insists I can get, I must be in top shape. There’s no room for injuries.

  “Great game,” Derek says, shoving a beer in my hands. “The team’s looking good.”

  “Yeah, I like our chances.” I sip the lukewarm beer, more out of politeness than anything. I don’t drink much during ball season. Derek wouldn’t know minor details about me though. He’s in my business law class and part of this fraternity. It’s not as if we hang around each other all the time. Truth be known, I think he befriended me in hopes to score with the cleat chasers. I give my standard go-to answer whenever people tell me how the team looks. “We have a good chance at making the playoffs.”

  It’s early in the season, but the team’s in great shape. We have a group of talented guys, and we’re in it to win this year.

  A skinny brunette in a tight V-cut black dress stares at me from across the living room. She positions herself—in what I can only presume is a practiced maneuver—to reveal half of her too-large-to-be-real tits. When she flashes me a smile, I ignore her. Any other night, I’d be all into that, but I’m more intrigued by the couple in the background. Well, only one of them in particular.

  Lacey Stark.

  The girl I like to refer to as the sexy redhead. She was on the baseball field the other day, and yeah, I may have asked about her. Something about the way her auburn curls glowed in the setting sun caught my attention. Well, that and the way her black jeggings showcased those muscular legs. I do love legs that are fit. But I’ve heard how passionate redheads can be in the sack. So, can you blame a guy for being curious?

  Lacey’s part of the communication department, and my teammate Jax Carrigan shares a class with her. He crushed all hopes of a quick hookup when he said the two devastating words—not single. She’s dating an asshole by the name of Jason Kerr—a spoon-fed frat boy. I’m not giving up on her, though. I’ll wait for a better opportunity. But watching the way her boyfriend’s hands flail about, I’m seconds away from creating that chance.

  The brunette ignores my non-interested hint and saunters over to Derek and me. This seems to perk Derek up until she wraps her arms around my waist.

  “You looked great out there today, Zach.” She flutters her eyelids and half-grins.

  I’m not going to lie; her tight little body pressed against mine—fake or not—feels good, but not good enough to hold my attention. Lacey’s boyfriend is getting angrier as he talks. I swear, if he lays a hand on her, I’ll pummel him, hurt shoulder or not.

  “Thanks. You go to every game?” I direct my question to the girl hanging off me but maintain focus on Lacey. I don’t need to listen to the brunette; the sad reality of her “yes” answer is inevitable. Cleat chasers go to all the games with high hopes of scoring with a player. I often wonder if it matters which guy they land. Hell, I’m not innocent. I’ve nailed a girl or two that’s made her way around the baseball carousel, but I’m not proud.

  As the chick answers, Lacey’s boyfriend backs down, and I relax a bit. Maybe too much because my attention shifts to Lacey’s mouth. Her bottom lip is plumper than the top, and I conjure an image of those lips wrapped around my cock. I bet she feels fantastic.

  Lacey places her hands on her hips and glares at her boyfriend. A thrill surges through me. Damn, I want those fiery eyes staring at me. Her look alone is a turn-on. Between those lips and her stance, the need to adjust my pants presents itself. I don’t dare do it though. Not with this girl attached to my side. Now isn’t the time for mixed signals.

  Lacey opens her mouth, but she speaks too low to overhear. Like a stalker, I keep watching. Her lips are easy enough to read as she mouths “Not here.”

  The Asshole’s voice rings loud, but the words are certainly not clear. It appears Mr. Ass has had too much to drink. With a quick huff, Lacey looks away. After a beat, she scans the room but stops when she lands on me. Her entire body stills, but I can’t read her stonewalled expression. Surprise? Interest? Disgust? I’m not sure.

  She blinks out of her trance and glances at the girl who’s staking claim to my waist. I really need to find a gentle way to ditch this girl.

  W
ith a quick shake of her head, Lacey shifts her focus back to her boyfriend. A moment later, she flinches at whatever the jerk says before he stalks away. As Lacey huffs out a breath, I suppress a grin at my good fortune. The opportunity to talk to her came quicker than anticipated.

  Not wasting any time, I untangle myself from the brunette’s clutches. “Have you met Derek?”

  He perks up when I steer her toward him. This is your moment, Derek, don’t strike out. With a pat on the back, I wink. “Catch you later.”

  There. He’s happy. She’s…shit. She’s glaring at me. Definitely not happy. I tamp down the guilt, because face it, who would be using who here? I pop a stick of gum in my mouth and then chew super fast. Nothing is worse than stale beer breath when you’re trying to impress the chicks.

  I trek toward Lacey, totally not checking out how great the material stretches across her tight little ass. My hands stay planted by my side, safe and sound. It’s not in my nature to grab a girl without permission, but man, the temptation is strong.

  “So, why are you standing over here by yourself?” I ask.

  Lacey’s body stiffens before turning around. She throws a nervous glance to where her boyfriend has disappeared before refocusing her attention to me.