Page 6 of Baller's Surprise Baby

I’ve rolled my window halfway down out of politeness, but I’m not about to encourage this conversation. One thing a player knows is when to keep his mouth shut and walk away. It doesn’t faze her.

“I’m sorry for bursting in on you in a private moment. That was…really unfortunate, and if I could take it back, I would.”

She’s looking for some kind of response, but I’m not sure what’s worse, having had her hands on me and not being able to do anything about it, or having her regret it.

“I want my job back.” She says it humbly, quietly, firmly. For a second the only sound is the hum of my engine as we stare in some kind of stare-off. I was a moron, a total jackass to her, and here she is again. This woman’s got balls.

“So, you’re apologizing? That’s unexpected, but I already said what I said. I don’t want you on the project. To be honest, I don’t know why you’d want to stay when I’ve made that clear.”

Okay, so it would be uber gratifying to my ego if she were to stay on because she can’t stop thinking about me, but just like I have for the past twenty-four hours I thrust the thought from my mind. It doesn’t bear thinking. She’s still the brat who annoyed me all through my teen years. I hold my stance and see the moment her eyes flash a brilliant jade full of fury.

“You know what…? it must be nice floating around on your cloud of privilege. I mean, you’ve grown up with support on all sides and this phenomenal talent that just opens doors for you wherever you go.”

I roll my eyes. Not this again. Seriously, I work just as hard as the next guy on the team, but that doesn’t seem to matter to anyone else since I’m from a wealthy family. Everly is still talking.

“Is it that easy for you? You just walk out of one job and someone hands you another?” Okay, she has a point there. If the Mavs dropped me, I could take my pick of other jobs, maybe not the one I wanted, but there’s no question of whether I could find work.

“Well, silver spoon boy, that’s not how the real world works. It’s not that easy for normal people to just get another job.... It’s hard out here for us common people. Look, I’ll be honest. I really want to tell you to go fuck yourself, but I’m not the only one affected if I lose this job, so… So, I am not leaving till you let me back in.”

And that does it. I’m not an asshole. That’s not who I am. Okay, I’m half an asshole, and half a stand-up guy. That’s the best I can call myself because I can’t take this. I can’t make myself unsee and un-feel everything she does to me. Even now the wind is blowing through her hair and some kind of fresh fruity cucumber scent hits me with every little gust, and it’s turning me on - again.

I don’t like my options. I can suffer through blue balls for the next several shoots with God knows how many other people surrounding us, or flat out turn her down - the woman who took a break in her career to care for her cancer-ridden aunt. Fuck me.

“You’re annoyingly persistent, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

I pull forward and park before hopping out of the car to her expectant face.

“Fine. I’ll have my media manager, Jack, clear it with Ed. You’re back on the project, but if you ever feel it’s too hard, I will gladly accept your resignation.”

“You won’t be getting it.”

“We’ll see now, won’t we?” I say to her as I turn to walk toward the building. “You coming?”

The grin that splits her face is one of the most endearing things I’ve ever seen, and I turn my eyes away because I know there’s nothing for me here. Behind me, she follows with a little skip in her step, but I’m already formulating a new plan. Maybe she doesn’t have a new job option just yet, but I’m sure if I make this one unpleasant enough, she’ll keep looking. When she finally moves on, I can get back to life as normal and pretend Everly hasn’t shaken the foundations of my world.

She really wants this job?

Let’s see if I can change that.

5

Everly

Iease through the front door gently, exhaustion dogging my steps. It was a full day of editing and a couple of reshoots. Of course, the reshoots just had to be with Ryder. I swear that man finds a way to make life difficult every time we work together! No one else on the team gives me this amount of trouble. Sure, there are a couple who think they’re God’s gift to women, and yeah, they can’t take a hint, but I’ve seen worse.

Ryder, on the other hand… I shake my head when I think about today’s most annoying incident, but a whiff of lasagna pulls me out of my musings. I never know if Aunt Sharon will be resting up or moving about, so I tend to enter the house on tiptoes, but she must be feeling better today.

“Aunt Sharon? I’m home,” I call out as I walk toward the kitchen.

“Oh, hello dear! How was work?” Her lined face crinkles into my favorite smile in the world, and I find myself doing a subconscious check for signs of illness. Her eyes are bright, posture tall, and movements sprightly. When I step forward for a hug I surreptitiously glance down at her hands. They’re steady, and her fingertips are a good color, the nails still growing as well.

Stepping back, I look back up into her eyes. She knows. She knows I’m always going to check on her, worry about her, but by unspoken agreement we try to talk about other things. We’ve both had enough of the fear and the illness talk.

“Was it a good day?” she asks, so I humor her and smile when I answer brightly.

“Can’t complain! At least I’m employed.”

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