Sidelined: A Wilde Players Dirty Romance by A.M. Hargrove, Terri E. Laine Read Free Book Online Page A

you do. See if Jenny can find time to squeeze you in between my appointments.”
    “Cass, I’ll squeeze in wherever you let me.”
    She purses her lips, but can’t stop a smile. We walk back to the front desk, and she says, “Jenny, will you schedule Mr. Wilde for another appointment tomorrow?”
    Jenny raises her brows, but doesn’t say a word. I leave with an appointment for the next morning, but I also have a mission. It may be a mission impossible, but then, I’ve never been one to back away from a challenge. In fact, I’m feeling a bit rejuvenated.
    Mark’s old beater truck is parked outside where I left it. He was kind enough to let me borrow it until mine gets fixed. He came by early this morning with a woman to drop it off. He’d given me a look not to ask, so I hadn’t. Besides, I have a goal, and I’m figuring out a way to achieve it. My first stop is The Dirty Hammer where Gina works. Even though it’s early, I know they serve lunch, so I’m banking on it being open.
    When I walk inside, my eyes have to adjust to the darkness. The place is empty, as it’s only eleven o’clock.
    A voice calls out from the rear, “Sorry, we’re not open yet. That door shouldn’t have been unlocked.”
    “Oh, I’m not here to eat. I was wondering if Gina was in.”
    The sound of shuffling feet can be heard, and then a man walks up to me. “And who wants to know?”
    I hold out my hand saying, “Hi, I’m Fletcher Wilde. I’m an acquaintance of hers.”
    The guy wipes his hands on his apron before he shakes mine. He’s middle-aged with graying hair around his temples, and his reaction makes me wonder if this is Gina’s boyfriend or something. “Oh, right. Heard about you from her. Sam O’Reilly.”
    “Nice to meet you, Sam. Hey, I’m not trying to step in your space or anything.”
    “Huh?”
    “You know. You and Gina.” My fingers make a V, and I point them at him.
    “Oh, no. We’re not … we’re just … I’m her boss. Or she’s more like mine, if you know what I mean.”
    I’m pretty sure he’s talking about that sassy mouth of hers. I laugh. “Yeah, I know exactly what you’re saying. “
    He checks out my knee and crutch and asks, “So, how’s the recovery going? I pull for the Rockets because of you—you know, hometown boy and all.”
    “Thanks, man. It’s going. That’s about all I can say.”
    “Man, I’m really sorry. You got totally fucked, if you don’t mind me saying.”
    “Nah, I tell it to myself every day. I’m just hoping Cassidy can get me back into shape by some miracle when training camp hits.”
    “So, Gina?”
    “Oh, do you know when I can catch her?”
    The dude rubs his whiskered chin for a second. “Listen, she’s not due in till five, but I can pull some strings.”
    “How?”
    His head flicks upward. “She lives upstairs, but don’t tell her I told you.”
    When he says that, I remember Cass saying those same words to me. “Gotcha, and thanks, man. I owe ya.”
    The staircase is a bit like climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, but I take them one at a time and cross my fingers when I knock on the door.
    “Goddammit, Sam, it’s my morning off. Go away,” a voice comes from the caverns of what lies behind the wooden door.
    “It’s not Sam.”
    After a short pause, a cheeky reply hits me. “Goddammit, whoever it is, it’s my morning off. Go away.”
    My mouth curves into a grin. “You mean you’re not the least bit interested in finding out who stands on the other side of this door?”
    “Not in the least.”
    “What if I’m the Publisher’s Clearing House dude and I have your million dollar check?”
    “You don’t. Go away.” I hear something crash into the door.
    “What if I’m the Power Ball guy and I have your check worth twenty-seven million?”
    “You aren’t. Now get the fuck out of my face.”
    Then I remember she drives a Harley so I say, “What if I’m Jax Teller and I’m here to give you my patch?”
    “Huh?”
    “You know. Like