Two chapters later and Betty had had enough. She tired quickly these days and even though I was the one doing the reading, it didn’t take long before she was nodding off. I helped her up onto her bed, covered her over with her blanket and waited for the three minutes it took for her to drift off. I couldn’t wait to get to Betty’s age to be able to nod off at the drop of a hat rather than tossing and turning for forty-five minutes while contemplating the world’s problems.
I’d almost made it to the exit when Deb stopped me. “Bryce! Bryce, wait a second.”
It wasn’t like I could say no. Instead, I spun around and waited for her to catch up. As she got closer, I got more and more nervous seeing the mischievous smirk covering her face. She was up to no good and I had a bad feeling that I was about to be the butt of whatever joke she had tucked up her navy-blue sleeve.
“You dropped your book,” Deb offered, stretching out her arm and waving it at me.
Anyone could’ve seen her. And a few people did. I don’t think they understood the book and chances are, with this crowd, most of them couldn’t see that far to know which book she was waving back and forth like a flag, but I felt like I’d been busted.
“It was Betty’s choice,” I explained through gritted teeth. I had no qualms about throwing Betty straight under the bus for this one. It was one hundred percent on her. All you had to do was ask her and she’d proudly tell you. Was it awkward as fuck to read some of those scenes to someone as old as my grandmother? Hell yeah! How could it not be? But Betty was a ball buster. And I tended to be quite fond of my balls, so I read whatever it was she requested. Besides, she didn’t know if I skipped a couple of lines here and there.
“Sure, it was. Sure, it was.” Deb smiled, dropping the book in my hand and turning back towards the common room which was slowly filling with residents. “See you next time, Bryce,” Deb threw out before I managed to escape back out the door and into the safety of the rain-soaked parking lot.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EMMA
Madeline Higgins was a bitch.
Actually, she was worse than a bitch. She was a slag. An attention whore. And she pissed me off to no end. What’s worse is, I’d only met her for two minutes. But the way she looked down her nose at me, like I was something she stepped in, yeah well that chick could go screw herself.
It’d been two weeks since we’d run into her at brunch and she was still spewing crap. My personal favourite was when she tweeted about having a great night out with Bryce – without checking his playing schedule first. The same time she alleged they were out enjoying champagne and oysters on a yacht on the harbour, he was actually running around the oval in Adelaide. A game which left him with a corked thigh and black eye.
When someone, it wasn’t me but I sure as shit did laugh, called her out on it, she spun so much bullshit I doubted she could even keep track of the truth anymore. In a way I felt sorry for her, but her desperation was disgusting.
Yesterday afternoon Bryce had been playing in Perth, and between the time difference across the continent and the night game, we hadn’t managed to talk afterward. I’d left him a text when I’d fallen into bed at half time, complimenting him on the bandage wrapped around his head, and when I’d woken this morning, he’d returned my message with a photo of what was under the bandage. Let’s just say I was glad I saw that before I started eating.
Today I had a massive day ahead of me. I’d been head hunted to head up a special project. One they were keeping top secret; even I didn’t have all the details yet. When my boss had approached me wanting to discuss something in the office, I almost had a coronary. He never wanted to see me. I never gave him reason to. I was polite to the public, kept my head down and my plants alive.
Forgetting everything that was Madeline Higgins, I squeezed into the crush spilling off the train and headed for the main offices in the city. By the time I emerged on the street, I was reminded why I wasn’t one of the worker bees who made the daily commute. I hated it. It was horrible.
Pausing long enough to grab a coffee from one of the busy sidewalk cafes, I rounded the corner and stepped into the sterile lobby, the bored security guard eyeing me suspiciously. Sure, I didn’t look like all the other women in the city; for one I was wearing flat work boots not dangerously high stilettos, but I was also not tapping away on my phone completely oblivious to the world.
Stepping into the lift, I took a sip of my coffee and forced myself to swallow it. There was something seriously wrong with this coffee. The milk was off or something, and it took everything I had not to spit it all over the floor. As soon as the elevator stopped on the seventh floor, I darted out and into the bathroom, dropping the cup of nastiness in the trash as I passed.
After taking a minute to clean up and pull myself together, I marched back out and up to reception. One of those perfectly poised and put together women smiled up at me crookedly from behind the counter.
“Hey. I mean, hi. I’m here to see Nick. Is he around?” I muttered. I couldn’t even speak like a normal person. Right then and there I decided it didn’t matter what special, super-secret project Nick offered me, I was going to turn it down and get outside and get dirt under my nails as quickly as possible. I couldn’t pull this off. I wasn’t this put together. And I had no interest in trying to fit into this snooty world.
“Do you have an appointment?” she replied, clicking the mouse on her computer.
“Yeah. I guess so. He asked me to come in this morning to see him. I’m Emma Hardy.” It probably would’ve helped if I gave her my name to start with but, shit happens.
Before she had a chance to look me up, Nick emerged, looking more relaxed than anyone else I’d seen this morning. Like me, he was wearing heavy work boots with his khaki cargo pants and matching shirt. His sunglasses were perched on his balding head and his phone was poking out of his top pocket.
“Emma! You’re here!” he boomed. If people hadn’t already been staring at me, they sure as hell were now.
“Hey, Nick.”
“Hey, Nick? Seriously. Get your butt in here,” he replied loudly, waving me through. The receptionist just shrugged. I guess she was used to dealing with his crazy antics. I used to be, but it’d been a while since we’d caught up in person.
After ushering me into a meeting room with wide windows looking out over more of the concrete jungle, I found myself wondering how he was coping with being cooped up in here all day. The Nick I knew, the one I remembered, hated corporate politics and even more than that he hated being cooped up. This was the guy who spent his weekends bushwalking and camping, so I was fascinated to find out how the change of pace and change of lifestyle was working for him.
“You look good,” he complimented, shutting the door behind me.
“And you look…”
“Shut up. I know. I look fat. Being in this office added twenty kilos I swear,” he grumbled as he flopped down in one of the fancy high-backed leather chairs.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” I offered.
“Well if you were going to say anything else, Emma, then I’d know you were lying. So, let’s just leave it at that, shall we?”
“Can do. On one condition.”
“Making demands of your boss already. Ballsy of you, Hardy, I’ll give you that.”
“Don’t pretend you’re surprised. You know me.”
“Yes, I do. And that’s why you’re here. Now, what’s this condition so I can get to the good part?”
“Don’t offer me something I can’t turn down. I do not want an office job. Just being in here, stuck in this concrete jungle is giving me hives. Don’t make it impossible for me to turn down something that we both know is going to make me miserable.” I managed to get it all out in one breath. Barely. While I sat there, hyperventilating and contemplating the fact that I may have just gone one step too far, Nick burst out laughing.
It took him a minute to get himself under control.
“See, Emma. That’s
why I love you. There’s no bullshit. No dramatics. You just tell it how it is. And you’re not afraid to hurt my feelings. But I gotta ask, do you really think I’d ever consider making you a desk jockey?”
Fuck I hoped not. “N-no?” It came out as more of a question than a definitive answer.
“Well, let me assure you. I will never ask you to come inside and write reports and deal with budgets and spreadsheets. Even asking you would be like risking my life, and while I like you, my wife wouldn’t be very happy if I went home missing an appendage.”
“Thank you,” I gasped, unable to keep the relief out of my voice.
“Right, now we’ve cleared that up, want to know why I did ask you to come visit? Or have you got some other wild assumptions you’d like to throw at me?”
Two hours, three donuts and a handful of papers later, I wandered out of the office building like a zombie and got swallowed up by the street traffic. In all my wildest dreams I hadn’t seen this coming. I think I’d shocked Nick when I’d told him I needed time to think about it. It was one of those opportunities that could change everything, but I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted it to. I was happy as I was. Well, relatively happy anyway. I mean sure, I could lose a couple of kilos and travel to all those destinations I’d pinned on my Pinterest board, but they were just dreams. Everyone had them.
After grabbing a bottle of water, I headed across the street and into the park. It was the only green space anywhere close to this chaos, and I needed to sit. I needed to digest. I needed to talk to Bryce.
Luckily, I was sitting when that thought hit me like a truck. Normally with something as major as this I’d ring Mum and Dad. Head to their place for the weekend and talk it through. Or I’d ring Jessie. She was the most grown up of our gang and always seemed to see things from a different angle. But Bryce was the first person who came to mind. Something that equally scared and intrigued me.
With everything still fresh in my mind, I dialled his number hoping I wasn’t catching him at a bad time. When he answered on the second ring, I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“Hey there, pretty lady,” he greeted me, and I could’ve sworn I heard a smile in his voice.
“Hey. You’re not busy, are you? I can call back later. It was nothing important. I just, I’ll call you back tonight,” I rambled, about to hang up.
“Emma!” Bryce shouted. Thank god he did. I wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn’t. “I’m not busy. Talk to me?”
“Sorry. I’m all over the place at the moment,” I apologised truthfully.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you called. What’s got your panties in a twist?”
“Well, I had a meeting with my boss this morning.”
“You didn’t tell me that. Did you know all weekend you had this today?”
“Yeah?” I confirmed, slightly confused.
“Knew something was up.”
“You did not.” Sometimes he was so full of bullshit.
“Did too. You haven’t been yourself since Thursday. It was either your time of the month or you had something on your mind.”
And here I had him noted down as just another meatheaded jock. Maybe he was more observant, or in our case, maybe he listened more than I gave him credit for.
“Anyway, I just met with him,” I cut him off, needing to focus on the issue at hand. “He’s offered me an amazing opportunity, but I don’t know if I should take it.”
“Okay.”
“This could do so many amazing things for my career but at the same time, there are so many cons.”
“Like what?”
“Are you sure you want to talk about this?” I asked, realising I was monopolising his Monday and he was probably tired.
“Of course. If it’s important to you, then it’s important to me.”
My heart melted and I knew in that moment what I had to do.
“What have you got on this week?”
“Nothing unusual. Training. Game. Why’s that?”
“Any chance you feel like a visitor?” I asked, putting it all out there.
It wasn’t until the words were out that I realised how badly I’d just set myself up to be rejected. If he said no, I was going to be gutted. Dealing with career decisions was going to be the least of my problems. Trying to work out if the fountain at the end of the path was deep enough to drown myself and put me out of my misery had just jumped up to be my number one priority.
“Depends on the visitor.”
“Bryce,” I whined. I was in physical pain. Holding my stomach, I rocked back and forth. I must’ve looked like someone who’d escaped from the looney bin.
“Emma. Get your cute little arse on the next plane. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Thank fuck.” I exhaled, letting go of the crippling anxiety that had paralysed me.
“Did you actually think that I’d say no?” he asked, sounding slightly offended.
“I don’t know. I didn’t plan on even asking. Everything’s just… it’s just… I don’t even know,” I babbled, and Bryce laughed.
“Em. Breathe. Want me to book you a flight?”
“No, it’s fine. I can do it. I need to do some shit today so I can probably fly down tomorrow afternoon if that works for you? Does that give you enough time to hide your dirty magazines and photos of ex-girlfriends?” I teased, trying to lighten the conversation.
“How long can you stay?” Bryce countered.
“How long do you want me?”
I heard the growl and wondered if this guy was part animal. It was a shame his growliness didn’t turn me off, though. If anything, it made me squirm in my seat. But not to be outdone, Bryce replied, “Sweetheart, don’t ask questions you’re not ready to hear the answers to.”
Game. Set. Match. Bryce.
“Wow!” I swooned. Like, actually swooned. Suddenly I had somewhere to be and more important things to do.
“Hey, Em, you still there?”
“Yeah.” But I’d completely forgotten about the phone still pressed to my ear. “Hey, Bryce, I’m about to go into the station so probably won’t be able to hear you. I’ll check flights and text you to make sure it works for you.”
“Em, book whatever. Just let me know when to pick you up.”
“You’re going to pick me up?” I wasn’t expecting a curbside pickup. Especially not since I’d just invited myself to stay. The last thing I expected was for Bryce to rearrange his schedule to fit me in. I just wanted to talk to him about this, face to face. And hopefully, steal a hug or two.
“Of course, I’m picking you up! What, did you think I’d make you take a cab or something?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t want…”
“Emma Hardy. Go home. Book a flight. Text me when and where and I will see you tomorrow.”
Wow! Bossy Bryce was even hotter than sweet and swoony Bryce. Maybe going to visit wasn’t such a good idea after all. I may never want to come back.
“Okay. Sounds good,” I replied as I started down the steps and into the station. “See you tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait,” he replied moments before I lost him.
“Neither can I,” I murmured to the disconnected line.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BRYCE
Emma’s flight didn’t arrive for another forty minutes according to the arrivals board, and I was already here sweating bullets. When she’d sent me her flight details, I was slightly annoyed but knew what she was trying to do. She was coming in on the seven o’clock flight. I’d be willing to bet she did it deliberately. She knew, at least I hoped she did, I would’ve moved around anything I needed to to be here to pick her up, so she’d gone and booked the evening flight. But she was coming and that was enough. In the scheme of things, it didn’t matter. As long as she got off that plane, I was going to be a very happy guy.
From the moment she’d called yesterday, I’d been flat out getting ready for her visit. After a quick call to my cleaner and paying extra for an ad
ditional, unscheduled clean, I went shopping and filled the fridge. My house may have contained marshmallows, chocolate fudge and rocky road ice cream for the first time since I’d moved in, but I wanted Emma to feel at home. I’d had the car cleaned and wiped my schedule of anything that wasn’t critical. Something that was on a need-to-know basis and there was no real reason Emma needed to know.
Pacing up and down the deserted terminal was attracting the attention of the security guard. Eventually, he must’ve gotten sick of me checking my watch when he came over and asked what I was doing.
“Waiting for my girlfriend,” I answered automatically.
It wasn’t until the word was out there that I realised how much I wanted it to be true. I wanted Emma to be my girlfriend. I needed her to be mine. Even though in my head she was, I needed to make it official. In that moment I knew I had a new mission. I had six days, five nights to convince her she was mine. And more importantly, mine only.
“Okay. But dude, if you’re that worked up, where are your flowers?”
The moment he suggested it I wanted to junk punch myself. Of course, I should have flowers. Why hadn’t I thought of it. “Shit!”
He chuckled, obviously enjoying watching me struggle. “How fast are you?”
“What?”
“You’ve got ten minutes before the florist on level one closes,” he offered helpfully.
“Thanks.”
“Better run, though. It’s at the other end of the terminal.”
I could hear him laughing as I sprinted through the terminal, leaping over a trash can and running up the escalators, much to the amusement of the staff around me.
I found the florist just as he was pulling down the heavy metal gate over the front of his store. After doing my best sweet talking, he wrapped up a fairly decent bouquet; they weren’t the best but at this time of night beggars can’t be choosers. He handed me the bunch, robbed me blind at the exorbitant amount he was charging, and sent me on my way.
As I came down the escalators, my phone beeped in my pocket. Just seeing Emma’s name lighting up my phone made my strides a little longer.
Played: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Playing Games Book 2) Page 16
