Page 25 of Baller's Surprise Baby

“Is everything okay? I’m kind of surprised you’re not at a game or something right now.”

“Yeah, we had our Rivalry games earlier in the week. I didn’t get a chance to mention that when I saw you earlier.” He grins and sets a box on the table.

“No kidding, those kids were really excited.” I respond. He laughs before answering.

“To be honest, the teachers were worse.” I feel a grin spreading across my face at the memory of more than one woman (and a few men) fangirling over Ryder.

“It’s true. Kids don’t have normal boundaries yet, but adults should really know better sometimes.”

“It’s the old ladies that get me every time, though.” Ryder shakes his head, and I know exactly what he’s talking about. The older ones are past the age of being self-conscious and they like their eye candy. “I swear one of the teachers grabbed my butt when she hugged me. She was short, but not that short.”

“Dang! Your family really has a thing going on, between Purple Diamond stripping and you and the old lady spankings.” He whips his head toward me in shock, his mouth hanging open before he answers in indignation.

“Hey! I didn’t spank them. There was no spanking. It was grabbing, and they were grabbing me! If anything, it was molesting, and due to the age difference could probably count as some kind of robbing the cradle.”

I just laugh. “Come to think of it, you seem to have a way of getting your parts grabbed by random people.” I waggle my brows at him in memory of our run-in at the beginning of the documentary work. His response is anything but casual as he leans in with an intent look in his eyes and holds my gaze with more than a little heat.

“Not random. And not people. Just you.” My mouth goes dry, and I falter for a moment as heat rushes through me and answering desire reaches up wanting to lean in further, wanting to touch and devour. Instead, I break the gaze and turn my eyes to the box on the table.

“So, what’s so important that you had to make a second trip in one day?” Ryder grins and grabs the box, handing it to me.

“Grandma made Italian wedding cookies.”

Immediately, all thoughts of sex and body parts disappear as I spring forward in my chair. “No way! Sand tarts? Those are my favorite!” The last word comes out in a squeal as I kick my feet against my chair and pop open the box to see two rows of crescent-shaped cookies covered in powdered sugar.

“Oh my gosh, Ryder! I love them! How did you know?!“ He nods his head at me and grins before he slouches back into his chair with his finger pointing to the crown of his head.

“Mind like a steel trap,” he quips.

I stare at the box and think of his crazy schedule, and how famous and talented he is, and here he is doing this simple little thing, making time in his schedule to drive across town and bring me cookies, and just like that my heart does a little pitter patter. This is crazy. I grab one and then offer one to him before closing my eyes and savoring the sweetness and crumbly texture. It’s a crumbly cookie that stops just short of being too dry. I quickly polish off two more before putting the lid back on.

“Okay. I have to stop now, or none of these will make it back to Aunt Sharon.” Ryder’s still got that smile on his face, and I realize he hasn’t placed an order since he walked in the door.

“Oh, did you want to get something?” I ask, gesturing toward the counter, but he waves me off.

“No, I’m all set for tonight. Just wanted to bring you these while they’re fresh.” My heart does that little pitter patter again, but I try to shake it off as I grab my laptop and prop it open.

“I was just about to check my emails in case I have an interview for tomorrow, and then I think I’m done here for the evening.” I stand and carry my laptop to the tall table behind us, and Ryder follows. I climb up onto a stool while he stands, but he’s still several inches taller than me.

“So, tell me about your day,“ I say as I pull up my email account. We chat for a few minutes until one email catches my attention and everything comes to a halt.

“Whoa, wait a second.” I hold up a hand and squint at the screen. It’s an email from a manager at ABC Sports, and…I jump off the stool and launch myself at Ryder in a bear hug.

“I got the job! I got the job!” I’m practically yelling in his face, but I don’t care, and he doesn’t seem to either, because he grabs me and swings me gently in a circle with a laugh. When he sets me down, I turn back to the screen again, still bouncing on my toes with excitement.

“Look at this! It’s from Angela Vasant, the hiring manager at ABC Sports, and they’re hiring for a remote contractor job. This is soooo perfect! I can’t believe it!” I’m squealing again and Ryder is congratulating me, and everything in me wants to shout because money has been so tight lately and, frankly, a woman has her pride.

“Thank God.” I whisper as tears prick at my eyes, and suddenly a wash of emotions hits me so hard in the chest I can hardly speak. I grab Ryder’s hand and squeeze hard as I try to hold the tears inside. This is so validating after being let go from the documentary. I feel a huge smile spread across my face as I finally pop open my eyes and see matching joy in the man beside me.

What an amazing friend he’s been these last few days, and he’s so close, leaning over me, proud of me. I don’t think; I just act. Reaching up, I place my hands on his face as I lift onto my toes and plant a kiss on that perfect mouth. His skin is so smooth, and he tastes somehow sweet and earthy all at once. The moment we touch, we meld to each other — hungry, starving for each other. It’s a sudden moment of passion that I didn’t see coming, but when we release each other and ease back several seconds later I know this isn’t something I can forget. There’s still something between us. I felt it that night in Phoenix and, despite everything that’s happened, it hasn’t faded one bit. I’m beginning to wonder if it ever will. We stare, caught in each other’s eyes for a few seconds more, before I clear my throat. “Um, thanks…for the cookies. I have to go now.” He drops his gaze for a moment, and when he raises his eyes back to mine, he smiles and squeezes my hand. There’s a look in his eyes that makes me want to stay.

“Congratulations, Curves. You earned this, and you deserve it. I’m so happy for you.” I nod my head in thanks and pick up my laptop and my box of cookies before backing away slowly, still unwilling to turn my eyes away from him. There’s something about him that I can’t deny, that keeps reeling me back in. When I get to the door I finally turn toward my car, and after I’ve backed out of my parking spot I see him outside in the chilly January air, leaning with his back against the wall and his eyes on me. I wave a hand at him, and he waves back before I pull out of the parking lot and head home.

The next morning, I wake up to his text message.

RYDER: Good morning, Curves. Can’t wait to hear more about the new job...Have dinner with me?

That’s all it says, and I just stare at the screen. I think I want this. I think I want to give him a second, second chance. Oh my God. I sigh and wonder what’s got into me, but the truth is it’s the same thing that got into me back at the very beginning of the documentary.

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