Page 1 of Baller's Surprise Baby

1

Everly

“Please be the right entrance! Please be the right entrance! Please be the right entrance!” I can’t stop the verbal mantra accompanying the frantic clop of my heels as I scurry up the stairs with my heart pounding and everything in me screaming to go faster.

I have driven to the site of the photoshoot precisely three times if I include my first interview, and not once was there any sign of traffic. But now that I’m scheduled for the actual day with the models, suddenly three different accidents block my every route. It’s like the whole city knows there are superstars on site today.

I try the handle and sigh in relief when the entry door swings wide. It’s not the entrance I normally use, because I had to circle around the block and park on a different side.

“Hey! You! Which way is the photoshoot for the Maveriks?” I wave frantically at the security guard while grabbing at my badge and presenting it for cursory review. Before me is a young woman in uniform with short, dark curly hair. She frowns down at my ID before looking back at my face.

“It’s on the other side of the building. You’ll have to take the stairs and then make a left…”

I squash the urge to growl and try to rein in some patience while registering her instructions. The woman is still talking. My God! There’s no time! My boss is going to think I’m some bimbo who’s never done a photo shoot before. Thirty seconds later, the interminable instructions come to an end.

“Okay, thanks so much!” I call out and I’m off, jogging as fast as my satchel and heels allow.

They tell you to finish school, get a degree, find a job and everything will be good from there. No one talks about the pressure when you finally get a job! I make a mental note to get Rachel, my bestie, a “thank you” gift. She’s a lifesaver, and I’m only here because of her. Thinking of her recommendation, a pang of guilt hits me. If I get cut from the job in the first week, her good word and faith in me will be for nothing.

With this mortifying thought I push myself to hustle faster, surreptitiously holding my boobs down with a free hand in between swipes across my dampening forehead. I may be working with athletes, but yoga and a relaxing swim are about as active as I get. Why did I wear heels today? Nope! Shake that thought. I can do this!

I finally spot the correct entrance per the security lady’s instructions, and with a final burst of speed I lunge for the door only to slam into utter hot, naked chaos.

For a split second, all of time stops as my brain wonders what universe I unwittingly stepped into. Then just as suddenly, everything speeds up. There’s a feminine shriek that I echo only to then hear a masculine bellow and a loud crash as I find myself smashing nose first into skin - naked, sexy, incredibly firm skin. It’s smooth and brown and wait…also white? And then I’m sliding and it’s not just my face stuck in this jumble, it’s my feet and my flailing arms that are simultaneously supporting my bag and grasping at the air for purchase. A split second later, I land on my knees, torso tilted forward, hair in my eyes and heart stuttering a staccato beat.

Two people are under me, a tangled mass of legs, arms, and muscles, and it occurs to me. I had thought that being late to the shoot was the worst possible way to start a new job, but I was wrong. So, so very wrong!

I’ve stopped falling, but I’m off balance and I can’t see. I pucker my lips and blow in an attempt to toss some of my dishevelled hair out of my eyes. I don’t even want to know where my hands have landed. All I know is this: it’s skin, and it’s warm. As I push away and try to stand up, I hear a grunt followed by, “Shit!”

It’s the male voice speaking, and just as I realize that I’ve interrupted a man and a woman in an intimate moment, he shifts his weight and I tumble forward again. My weight is falling on him this time, and as he pulls away I panic. With a final toss of my head my vision finally clears, and I watch as my left hand slides firmly down cut muscular bicep to side, and then down across hips and abdomen - my God! Why won’t he stop moving?! - only to land squarely on a large and still very erect member.

“What the hell!?”

I can’t stop the panicked screech coming out of my mouth, and I barely register the accompanying grunt from somewhere above my line of sight. In my scramble to push away, I have first row tickets to watch as my fingers wrap around the saluting member even further.

This! This, right here, is the worst. Because I’m not just late. Nope. I’ve now wandered into the realm of molesting models. Oh my God! I seriously have never had a worse start to an assignment. They’re going to fire me and ban me from every professional photoshoot in the DFW area!

With a last shove in which I subconsciously register far more carnal knowledge of the man in front of me than any professional scenario could possibly warrant, I finally settle my weight back onto my ankles and awkwardly inch away from the sprawling limbs.

Before me are two models - the oversized, muscly one clearly a member of the Dallas Mavericks basketball team, for whom the photo shoot was scheduled, and the other a female model with far paler skin and arms wrapped around her upper body in a belated attempt at modesty. The confusing array of limbs untangles itself, and I see the blond girl scramble back to grab at a robe tossed over a bench.

To the forefront, the basketball star stands with his proud, perfect member still jutting to the sky. I quickly raise my gaze to a more respectful height, up miles of smooth, tanned skin to a defined jaw, hooked nose and deep, dark thickly lashed eyes.

And that’s the moment when I realize just how screwed I am.

This is it. This is the moment when I die.

It’s not because I’m late for the first day on the job. It’s not even because I inadvertently accosted someone, essentially becoming a criminal. It’s because I’ve found myself looking into all-too-familiar eyes. I have officially fallen the furthest any remotely decent human being possibly can. Standing in front of me is Ryder Jones, my best friend’s currently very naked older brother. That’s right! I’ve just molested my best friend’s brother… and my brain cannot stop replaying it!

2

Ryder

What the hell!?

“Everly? What are you doing here?”

Maddie, the model who I’d been ready to jump just seconds before, is now scrambling behind me to grab her clothes. Meanwhile, my little sister’s best friend, a girl I haven’t seen in at least two years, has burst into the locker room and somehow managed to wrap her fingers around me. Now she’s standing there with her eyes are big as saucers and her perfect lips shaped in an “O.”

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