Exception to the Rule 3: Straight from the Heart
By Kimberly Gardner
BlurbStraight jock meets gay ballet dancer. Each has a need the other can fill. Is it a match made in heaven, or a recipe for disaster?
College student Kyle diStefano is having trouble paying his tuition. So when he hears about a job as team mascot with the accompanying full scholarship it seems like the perfect solution. Except he knows nothing about football. But why should that stop him?
Known as the Big Cock on Campus, Dave Masterson never lets his antics with the ladies interfere with his true love, playing NCAA football. But when his coach suggests the team do some off-season conditioning at the ballet barre, most of the guys scoff. Only Dave takes him seriously.
With Dave's knowledge of football and Kyle's knowledge of ballet, it seems each has exactly what the other needs, except they play for different teams. Or do they?
Kyle knows one sure path to heartbreak is falling for the straight jock who’s teaching him the rules of the game. Dave can't resist falling for the man who is going to mean nothing but trouble. But neither man can seem to help himself.
When a public display of affection casts doubt on Dave’s NFL dream, he is forced to make a choice. Stay with the game plan or call an audible that comes straight from the heart.
Copyright 2014 by Kimberly Gardner, all rights reserved.
Excerpt
“That’s right,” Kyle said into his phone. “A large Hawaiian pizza with extra hot peppers. And how much will that be, please?”
He thanked the girl who took his order before ending the call and pocketing his phone. With the whole night to himself and the whole apartment too, all he had to do now was open the box-o-wine in the fridge and wait for his supper. The seventeen dollars plus tip was a little frivolous on his budget, but what the hell. It was a night for celebrating. His team won, spanking their opponents in a crazy fifty-four to twenty-seven outcome. His maiden voyage as a snow leopard was a success. He imagined he could still hear the crowd’s wild cheers as he faux-streaked down the sidelines. Holy shit, but that felt great.
So why did he now feel sort of blue and hollow inside? Maybe because celebrating all by himself just wasn’t any fun. Maybe he should have accepted the cheer squad’s invitation to come along for ribs and wings when they’d asked?
That had surprised the hell out of him. He had just emerged from the mascots’ changing area when Bill, Lacey's co-captain on the squad, stopped him. A bunch of them were going out for ribs and wings, and did Kyle want to come along?
He liked Bill and the others all right. In fact, he thought maybe Andy, one of the other male cheerleaders, might have a little crush on him. Kyle had caught the guy checking out his ass on more than one occasion during last summer’s cheer camp. If he'd gone, he might have even gotten laid.
So why did he say no just so he could go home and drink box-wine and eat pizza by himself?
Quit being such a Gloomy Gus!
He needed to just snap the hell out of it. Wasn’t this exactly what he’d worked for? A successful gig as a mascot with the full-ride scholarship to go with it, a bit the crowd loved, and a team with a winning record. Did a single win make a winning record? Probably not, but who cared.
Resolving not to be disconsolate, Kyle strolled to the living-room window and twitched the curtain aside. He looked out onto the street below.
Someone was at that moment coming up the front steps of their house. Who was it?
He leaned close to the glass and squinted. He saw only the suggestion of light hair before the figure disappeared under cover of the porch. It was much too soon to be the delivery guy already. Besides, their usual pizza delivery guy had dark hair. Oh, and a very cute smile, if Kyle did say so himself.
He let the curtain fall back into place. It was probably just Tom, who lived with his girlfriend on the second floor and rarely did more than grunt whenever you passed him on the stairs.
Maybe he’d get started on that wine while he waited for his pizza.
Turning away from the window, he’d gone only a few steps when the doorbell rang.
Josie and Mark were gone for the night, so nobody should be ringing his bell. Maybe Tom had forgotten his keys and was just ringing random bells, as he’d been known to do, until someone let him in. Well, let someone else do the honors, the big jerk.
Having made up his mind to ignore the bell, Kyle continued to the kitchen. But as he was reaching for one of their jelly jar-cum-wineglasses, the damn bell rang again, longer and more insistently this time.
Grrr.
Setting his glass on the counter, he went to the buzzer button and stabbed it for several seconds with way more force than necessary.
Stupid Tom and his stupid lost keys.
Distantly, the door buzzed, then stopped. There. Now he could get back to his wine tasting. Drinking. Guzzling. And do it without interruptions. Well, except for his pizza. Mmm. But after that…
Kyle opened the fridge and took out his box of wine. It felt like it was nearly full. Maybe not such a good thing, given his current mood. But once again, what the hell?
Knock, knock, knock.
Oh, for God’s sake!
“Nobody’s home,” Kyle mumbled. He picked up his glass and held it under the tap on the side of the box. Wine flowed into the glass. He filled it three-quarters full before releasing the button.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Kyle set down his glass. He stomped across the living room and yanked open the door. Whoever this was would be getting a good—
“Hey.” Masterson’s lips smiled, but his eyes remained sober.
“Hey.” Kyle felt his bad mood drain away, replaced by a ridiculous pleasure at finding his favorite QB at his door. “What are you doing here?”
The question was met with the patented Masterson shrug. “Just came to hang out.”
“Mark’s not here.”
“I know that.” An edge crept into Masterson’s tone. “Him and Red went to his brother’s wedding thing.”
“Shower.”
“What?”
“It’s called a shower.”
Another shrug. “Whatever.”
Kyle gaped as the pieces suddenly clicked into place. “So, you came over to hang out with…me?”
“Uh, yeah, unless you’re, like, busy or something.”
A grin of pure joy broke across Kyle’s face, and his heart leaped. Masterson was here to see him. Him!
“You going to let me in, or what?”
“How do you know I’m not in the middle of a hot date at this very moment?”
Masterson laughed. “Yeah, right.”
Kyle glanced over his shoulder and called back into the empty apartment. “Xavi, put some clothes on, sweetie. We have a guest.”
Masterson arched an eyebrow. Leaning past Kyle into the living room, he raised his voice. “Hope you brought the cuffs and plenty of condoms, Xavi. Because I’m ready to pahr’tay!”
Kyle cackled like a lunatic. “Holy crap, you’re a nut!”
“And you’re a shitty actor. Now, can I come in or not?”
Instead of answering, Kyle stepped back and opened the door wide. But before Dave had taken more than a step, the doorbell rang again.
He shot Kyle a look. “Don’t tell me. Xavi’s here.”
Kyle snickered. “Not unless that’s the pizza guy’s name.”
“Mmm, pizza. My timing is da bomb.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“I got it.” Dave turned and started down the steps. “Get us something to drink. I’m dying of thirst.”
“It’s seventeen eighty-two.” Kyle leaned over the railing. “I was going to give him twenty—”
“I said I got it, Kay.”
Kay? No one had ever called him just Kay. That made it seem sort of like a pet name. Sort of. Like a name a boyfriend might use. Maybe.
Oh, no. Nononono.
Masterson was not and never would be his boyfriend. Masterson had a girlfriend. A. Girl. Friend. Probably more than one. And Kyle cautioned himself to remember that.
He and Dave were just friends. With benefits.
And pizza.
Speaking of which…
“This smells pretty good.” Dave spoke from the second-floor hallway, just below where Kyle stood on the landing.
Kyle ducked into the apartment and hurried into the kitchen. He was not getting caught standing in the exact same spot and daydreaming about pet names and boyfriends and benefits. Uh-uh. No way.
A moment later, Dave appeared in the doorway, carrying the pizza. He brought it into the living room and set it on the coffee table.
Kyle retrieved plates and napkins and brought them over. “What do you want to drink?”
“Whatever you’re having is good.”
He took a second glass from the cabinet. As he watched the wine fill the glass, Kyle struggled to suppress the date-night butterflies currently fluttering low in his belly. This was not a date. Not not not. But evidently the butterflies were not getting the message.
When Kyle brought the wine into the living room, he found Dave staring at the pizza. He set the glasses on the table. “What?”
“Is that…?”
“Pineapple, ham, and hot peppers. It's a Hawaiian pizza.”
“Pineapple on pizza?” Dave made an ewww face. “That’s so girlie.”
“Really.” Kyle helped himself to a slice of pizza, then slid one onto Dave’s plate too. “I never realized there were gender-specific foods, other than quiche, of course.”
Masterson laughed. “What the hell.” He picked up his pizza, folded it in half, and took a cautious bite. Chewed. Swallowed. “Hey, this isn’t gross at all.”
“I told you.”
They ate in companionable silence. When all but one slice was gone, Kyle sat back with his glass of wine, sipped, and studied his quarterback over the rim. “So how come you didn’t go out with Dempsey and Renaldi and those guys?”
Masterson shrugged. “My dad and my brother were at the game.”
“Yeah? So how come you aren’t with them?”
A long pause followed. Masterson studied the last slice of pizza, as if it held the answer to world peace. Finally, instead of responding, he asked, “You going to eat that?”
“No, you can have it.”
There was something going on, though Kyle supposed he was going to have to wait until Dave was ready to talk about it, and maybe they would both get old in the meantime.
Kyle stood and carried both their glasses back to the kitchen, where he refilled them. When he returned to the living room, Masterson was polishing off the last of the pizza.
Kyle set the glasses on the table. His heart beat fast and hard. “Why are you here, Dave?”
Dave wiped his mouth and met Kyle’s gaze. “You want me to leave?”
“That’s not what I—”
Suddenly, Dave stood. He was leaving.
Panic seized Kyle. Why hadn’t he kept his stupid mouth shut?
“Dave, I—”
“Let’s go sit on the roof.”
OUTSIDE, IT WAS dark, cool, and quiet. Late-season crickets sang, their song blending with the distant whoosh of cars on the street and the rustle of the breeze through the leafy branches of the trees. It was just as intimate and private as Dave had suspected it would be.
He lowered himself to sit and propped his back against the house before setting his glass beside him on the thin carpet.
“This is nice. You guys should put a couple chairs out here or something.”
“We aren’t really supposed to be sitting here.” Kyle sat next to Dave, close but not touching. He sipped, then set down his wine. “It is the roof, after all, and not a real deck.”
“I guess.” Dave tilted his head back and studied the sky. A sliver of moon hung suspended amidst a blur of stars over the familiar lights of the Philadelphia skyline. “Have you ever been to Wyoming?”
“What? Wyoming? No, why?”
Dave felt more than saw Kyle watching him, and he shrugged. “I don’t know. Because I always wondered what the sky looks like out there.”
“In Wyoming?”
“Or Montana or Nebraska or any of those places where there’s a lot of empty space. Where you could just lay in the middle of a field and look up without all this light to drown out the stars. I bet it’s amazing, like if you threw a handful of diamonds on a piece of black velvet.”
Kyle chuckled and picked up Dave’s glass. “No more wine for you.”
“Why? Give that back.” Dave grabbed for his wine.
Kyle evaded. “Because you’re drunk.”
“I am not. Why do you say that?” They were both laughing now.
“Because…diamonds on black velvet? Really? Sounds pretty poetic for—”
“A dumb jock like me?”
Kyle stopped laughing and grew serious. “That’s not what I said. And besides, you’re not dumb at all.”
“I don’t mind being underestimated, most of the time.”
“I don’t know. You got pretty ticked at me that time.”
“What time was that?”
“Remember that first ballet session? I made a dumb-jock comment, and you almost left.”
Dave took his glass back, and Kyle let him. “Oh yeah, I remember. I’m glad I didn’t.”
“Me too.”
Dave moved his free hand, letting his fingers brush against Kyle’s. He took Kyle’s hand in his and held it, lacing their fingers together. “You never underestimated me again after that.”
Kyle was quiet for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was very soft. “Most of the time, I don’t even know what to do with you.”
“How about this?” Dave leaned over, and when Kyle turned to look at him, he touched their lips together. Softly. Briefly. It was over almost before it happened. Yet his heart seemed to be beating a thousand times a minute. And he could not seem to get enough air into his lungs because every breath was filled with Kyle’s scent. — with Loose Id.
You can find it at Amazon and Loose-Id.
You can contact Kimberly at Goodreads and on her website.
Isn't the excerpt just awesome? *_* ~ Mari
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