The Barnes Family Romances: (Books 1-3) Read online

  I hadn’t even noticed the cheerleaders on the field until Dwayne and Legion started jawing about the rack on one of the girls. They went on about shit like that all the time. Usually I didn’t pay them any attention, but this time I happened to glance up and saw who they were talking about.

  “Ooh, and check out that one with the yellow hair. That’s one fine-lookin’ woman.” Legion practically drooled.

  I ignored his leers, but there was something about that girl. She looked familiar somehow.

  After what happened in Los Angeles last year, I’d been a virtual choirboy with women. My hand got all the action in my crib. I kept all my energy focused on basketball, and it paid off. Last season I finished with the third-best record in the league for triple doubles. This year I planned to lead the league, and even though it was a new season I thought I had a shot at the scoring title, not to mention our team, the Austin Athletics, had a real chance at a championship run.

  All that took hard work and no women around to distract me. But it couldn’t hurt to look…

  The music changed, and the cheerleaders sashayed by us in a line, allowing me to get a better look. As she strutted past me, shaking those pom-poms, I got a glimpse of her eyes.

  Eyes it felt like I’d known forever.

  But that was crazy. It couldn’t be…

  “Want me to find out who she is?” Dwayne asked.

  “Yeah, go get us one of those programs,” I said, trying my best to hide the extent of my interest.

  “Extend an invitation to her for after the game.” Legion flashed his gold tooth.

  “No, just get the program,” I insisted.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Legion hated a wet blanket. The wedding ring on his left hand didn’t stop him from acting like he was single.

  “I may know her.”

  Legion looked me up and down. “I see. Ladies and gentleman, the priest has a dick after all.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The game finally started, and Legion's attention moved onto the field. Dwayne returned, handing me a program, which I put away. I wasn't about to let these guys see how intrigued I was by this girl. I'd never hear the end of it, and if she was who I thought she was, I didn't want either of them within one hundred yards of her.

  In the first quarter the Scorpions scored two touchdowns and held their opponents to only three points. I tried to watch the mystery cheerleader, but she’d gone to the very far end of the field so I couldn't really see her anymore.

  When the first quarter was over, I excused myself and walked down the sidelines behind the players, hoping for a better glimpse. But right when I got there the squad went on the field to perform a dance. As I watched, I grew more and more mesmerized by her. Her smile was the warmest, most beautiful thing I had ever seen. With each swish of her hips, each shake of her pom-pom, I became more and more ensnared. Those big blue eyes made me feel like the only person in the stadium, and I thought I remembered staring into them many years ago.

  I just had to find out. Could she be the girl I remembered?

  Desperate for some privacy, I found the nearest bathroom and locked myself into a stall. I sat down and started flipping through the program. Unfortunately, the section on the cheerleaders only provided their first names. That was probably smart, might prevent stalkers. But it might not be that helpful for me, especially if she went by a nickname. But then I turn the page and staring at me was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Her name screamed at me from the bottom of the page "Eden."

  It was her.

  There could only be one girl with that name. With those incredible blue eyes.

  I'd known Eden ever since I could remember. Our fathers played in the same band, were killed in the same plane crash.

  When we were children our families spent a lot of time together. Eden and my sister Dynassy played dolls, and I would pester them, bouncing the basketball, until they paid attention to me.

  My mother loves to tell a story about Eden and me playing house when we were little.

  "What have you two been doing?" my mother asked.

  "Playing house. Nick was ironing the dishes,” Eden had said. I smiled at the memory. Besides playing with her, all I wanted to do as a kid was play basketball. Lucinda swears that I was sleeping with my ball by the time I was two years old. By three I was pretty good at dribbling. I was all boy and my play was all ball, except with Eden. I remember Lucinda saying, “That little girl knows how to domesticate a man.” I guess it was true in my case because whatever she wanted to do, I’d do it with her.

  But after our fathers died, Eden's mother moved them away, and I hadn't seen her since.

  I can still see those big blue eyes of hers filled with tears at my father's funeral. Or maybe it was her father's… I went to both, and at fifteen—they blurred together. I just know that I've never seen so much pain on one person's face as I saw on Eden’s then.

  I looked down at the program, then at the girl on the field with the gorgeous figure, flowing blonde hair, and insane dance moves. There was no mistaking it. That was my Eden.

  Then I remembered that Eden was a genius. I thought I recalled my mother telling me that she had gone to college early, graduated high school in two years, college in three, and gone to medical school. She certainly didn't look like a physician out there shaking those hips on the field. What the hell?

  Instead of rejoining Legion and Dwayne on the field, I went back to my sponsor’s box where I commandeered a pair of binoculars and watched the rest of the game through them. At least that's what I appeared to do. In actuality, I watched Eden. I had to give the girl credit. She danced for a full four hours. That took some kind of stamina, and as an athlete I was impressed.

  Not to mention she looked like a million bucks doing it. The image of her shimmying and gyrating that body would star in my fantasies for a very long time. I couldn't believe the little girl I’d known had grown up to look like that—with those luscious lips and legs that went on for days.

  How had I not known that she lived here?

  My mother must have known, and I wondered why she had neglected to inform me. Eden's mother, Mary Lou and Lucinda had had numerous differences of opinions over the years, but I expected Lucinda kept tabs on Eden's family. Which meant that my mother had meant to keep me and Eden from finding each other here in Austin.

  This knowledge made me smile. Lucinda, the puppet master, couldn't control everything.

  But now that I knew—I had to figure out the best way to reconnect with her…

  ***

  As soon as I got home, I looked up Eden on Facebook. She had enough posts set to public that I could see that she was in her second year as a cheerleader for the Texas Scorpions, and that she worked for a medical company of some sort. There were a few pictures of her and some girls that looked like they might be her cheerleading friends, a picture of her and her mom Mary Lou, and one with her and the Scorpion mascot. If I wanted to see more, I would have to become her “friend,” so I immediately sent her a friend request. I had to delete some people in order to give me enough room on my friends’ list to request her, but that wasn't going to keep me from connecting with her.

  I also followed her on Twitter with her Eden at Texas Scorpions account, but and found her on Instagram. I realized I was about to start to come off like a stalker, but I justified it by telling myself that she probably didn't check all her social media every day, and hopefully she would connect with me through whichever one she came across first. I could have had Dwayne or someone else contact her for me, but I didn't think playing the “big basketball star with an assistant” card would be the best approach. I didn’t want to come across like a douche. In fact, I wanted her to remember me and the connection we had as kids—the way I remembered her.

  We had always had such a close and intimate relationship, that putting someone else between us felt like it would only chip away at the bond we used to have. I wondered if she remembered it the same way.
>
  What if she didn't? What if she didn't even remember me?

  Fuck. My palms were sweating.

  I managed to get to sleep that night, though it was hard since I kept checking my accounts for any sign of Eden.

  The next morning, I had to tell myself to chill out. This wasn’t good for me—I hadn’t even talked to the girl, and already she was distracting me. I forced her out of my mind and went to practice.

  But when I came home afterward, I logged on to find she had accepted my friend requests on both Facebook and Instagram. There were no messages from her, but we were now "friends."

  I didn't want to appear too anxious so I made myself wait until the next day, and just before our game against the Hornets started, I sent her the following Facebook message:

  Hey girl! It’s been a while. Crazy that we’re both in Austin. Let's get together sometime. Send me your digits.

  As soon as I sent it, I began to question myself. Too forward? Not forward enough? Did I make an assumption in telling her to send me her number?

  Fuck me, but she was consuming my thoughts. The reason I sent it when I did was because I knew the game would take my mind off her. Sure enough, I had my hands full with the Hornets. They came in and whipped our ass. Held me to nine points, six rebounds, two assists, and only one block. My worst game of the season.

  Shit. I hoped I got to see Eden soon, because she was becoming quite too much of a distraction.

  Later that night Eden sent me back a message that said:

  Hi Nick. It is a small world. Yeah, we should get together sometime.

  The problem was she didn't give me any way to contact her. She ignored my requests for her number.

  Damn!

  How the hell was I going to ask her out if I couldn't call her or text her? It would seem desperate now to ask her on a date through Facebook, seeing as she ignored my request for her number.

  Maybe she wasn't interested.

  But even if she didn't want to go out with me, I wanted to talk to her. When we were kids she had been a big part of my life. Almost as important to me as my siblings.

  I was going to have to come up with something else.

  The next day started with me watching film, and there were lots of things I needed to see. Things I needed to fix about my performance the night before, but unfortunately, all I could think about was how to lure Eden back into my life.

  Maybe she’d be more comfortable with something casual, so I decided to have a party and invite her. The following weekend the Scorpions were playing an away game, which meant she wouldn’t be cheering, and we had one rare night off between home games on Saturday. It would be the perfect time to have a small get together, but how could I make sure she would come?

  Then it hit me—Dynassy. And I picked up the phone.

  "Dynassy, it's Nick. Did you know that Eden Evans was here in Austin?"

  "Um, yeah. We talk."

  "You do? Why didn't you tell me that she was here?"

  "Huh. I'm sorry. It didn’t occur to me." Then I heard Dynassy talking to someone in the background, but I couldn't make out what she was saying.

  "Where are you?"

  "Getting my nails done. Why?"

  "Just wondered. I can't believe that you and Mom knew that Eden was here in Austin, the same city where I've been playing basketball for a year, and you both neglected to tell me that."

  "Gee, don't get your panties in a bunch. Why do you care so much? I didn't think you two stayed in touch."

  Women. They think they cornered the market on “relationships” and friendships. Why the hell wouldn't they think I would want to know about Eden? Did they not remember how close we were growing up?

  I guess the only thing they thought I gave a shit about was basketball. And while that was normally true, in this case they were way off track. But fussing at her wasn’t going to get me anywhere. So I took a different approach.

  “So you guys are still friends?"

  "Yeah." Then to someone else "I like the passionfruit, let's use that."

  I rolled my eyes. "Hey, what are you doing this weekend?"

  "I have a couple of options. Why? What do you have in mind?"

  "I’ve got a favor to ask."

  “Okay…what is it?"

  "Come down here this weekend. I'm going to have a party, and I'd like Eden to come. Can you ask her, make sure she comes?"

  Dynassy snorted. “Does my brother have a crash on a cheerleader?" she teased. Flashbacks to teenage bouts of teasing back and forth rushed into my mind and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. "Come on, Dynassy. Just do it, would you?"

  "Yeah. I'll come down, and I'll bring Eden to your party. But you are gonna owe me time for this one, big brother."

  “Not a problem.” For this, I'd gladly pay.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Eden

  You can’t imagine my surprise one afternoon when I got home from practice to see a friend request from Nick Barnes pop up on my computer, and on several different social media platforms. I guess it wasn’t a total surprise that he reached out to me, but what I did wonder was why now? It had been all over the news the year before when he’d been traded to the Austin Athletics. At the time I had watched his arrival with curiosity.

  Eleven years ago, my mother had whisked me away from LA, and cut ties with Lucinda Barnes and her brood after my father and Ziggy Barnes were killed in a plane crash together with their pilot, flight crew, and the other members of their rock band Blacksmith. I hated moving, but I hated everything that year. My father had been my rock, and losing him felt like the sun falling from the sky. Over the years I’d decided that my mother’s separating me from the Barnes family was partly based on her disapproval of the way Lucinda Barnes put money and fame above everything else, and partly on the fact that that chapter of my mother’s life was filled with mostly heartbreak and she needed to distance herself from where it all happened. I might not have liked it, but even as a teenager I understood it.

  I remember mentioning Nick to Mary Lou when he’d come to Austin. “Mom, did you see that Nick’s been traded here?”

  “I did. He’s the spitting image of his father. He will cause the people around him nothing but trouble, just like his father, just like yours.”

  I had heard this diatribe numerous times over the years and my loyalty to my mother took precedence over my own childhood memories of time spent with Nick, so I let it go.

  I couldn’t, however, help but take vicarious pleasure in his success. Nick was one of the biggest stars in basketball, and I had been known to catch a game or two, if only on television. I was too busy with my career and my cheering with the Scorpions to become a full-fledged fan, but I kept up with his performance via the internet and ESPN. Of course I accepted his requests for “friendship.” And waited to see what would happen next. His next message sounded almost like he wanted us to go out. But his intentions were somewhat murky, so I remained vague in my responses. The last thing I wanted to do was make a fool of myself by assuming that he was interested in me that way.

  Nick Barnes was exactly the kind of guy my mother warned me about not getting mixed up with, but now, looking at a picture of him on my screen, I had to admit he had grown up into a gorgeous specimen of a man. The Athletics’ website listed him at 6’7” of long, lean muscle, and the New York fashion ads featuring him in his underwear didn’t leave much to the imagination. Finely chiseled abs and perfectly sculpted buttocks hid under his uniform most days, but if a girl wanted to check out his goodies they were readily available online.

  I also had to admit to watching his family’s reality show on a regular basis. I had grown up knowing Dynassy and Nick, and I even remember the twins, but they had been toddlers back then. And even though Nick wasn’t a regular on “The Barnes Bunch,” he was a fan favorite when he did make an appearance.

  The show mostly centered around Dynassy and the younger siblings’ band. Dynassy was a top model, and I guess the fact that her father had
been a famous rock star fascinated people now that his children were following in his footsteps. The family took a lot of criticism. The haters were mostly jealous, but a lot of people believed the Barnes family were the closest thing we had to royalty in the United States.

  A few days after I first heard from Nick, I’d booked a dance lesson with Judy. She’d gone over several routines with me, criticizing me on just about everything and pushing me to improve my every move. As I walked through the front door of my apartment, fantasizing about a nice, hot bath, my phone started ringing. It was Dynassy.

  “Hey, girl! I think I’m coming down to Austin this weekend.”

  “Really?” I asked. “Do you want to stay with me?”

  “Um, I think I’m staying with my brother. I hope he’s not as big of a pig as he was when we lived with Lucinda.”

  We both giggled. “That bad, huh?”

  “It’s those smelly gym clothes and shoes. Though I think he wears a different pair every night these days. Anyway, he’s having a small party on Saturday night. Will you please go with me? I don’t want to be the only girl there.”

  “Sure.” I couldn’t leave Dynassy alone in a den of testosterone, could I? And as much as I hated to admit it to myself, I was looking forward to seeing him.

  After we hung up I drank a huge glass of water then sweated it out in a super-hot bath, and I have to admit I thought about Nick the whole time I was naked, my hands drifting over my body, pleasuring myself to thoughts of him doing that very thing to me.

  My fantasies about Nick didn’t stop there. That week my thoughts were constantly going back to Nick and his upcoming party. I fretted over what to wear, and even counted the days until Saturday.

  I had no interest in dating or a relationship anyone these days. I was focused on building my career and staying on the Scorpions squad. There wasn’t much time for anything else, but that didn’t keep me from daydreaming about Nick and remembering the silly things we used to do as kids. Nick had always been tall but somewhat scrawny, and he’d always had a basketball in his hand. The constant bouncing used to drive Dynassy crazy, and his mother used to gripe at him for dribbling in the house. I recalled more than once the noise woke up one or both of the twins, which usually got him sent outside. I used to go with him and turn cartwheels in the grass while he shot hoops at his mini goal. I wondered how much he remembered of our time playing together as kids.