His Every Choice (8 page)

After all, Kallie had gone so far out of her way to make it happen. She’d stuck her
neck out for Scarlett. Scarlett knew she couldn’t hurt her for being a good friend.

Kallie got in the cab waiting out front for them, and Scarlett was about to slide
in after her, when Bryson called out to her.

“Hey, Scarlett,” he said.

She stopped and turned to face him. “Yeah?”

“We should probably set up a time to meet and discuss your position. Now that you
work for me and all.” He grinned at her like the cat that ate the canary.

“I work for Kallie and Hunter.”

“Well, since we’re going to be working together, and your title is assistant, we should
probably meet to figure out what you’ll be assisting me with.”

She sighed. “Sure. Whatever.”

“I’ll get your number from Kallie and be in touch.”

She felt a burning rage at his smugness. He knew that she didn’t want to work for
him.

Refusing to take his bait, she simply got in the cab and shut the door.

They drove in silence for a little while, until Kallie finally turned and looked at
her with a questioning expression. “Something’s going on with you and Bryson.”

“What do you mean?” Scarlett said, making a face.

“There seems to be some tension or issue there. Is there a problem between you two?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure? Because I only want you to do this job if it’s something you’d enjoy.”

Scarlett sighed. “Bryson just reminds me a little of an ex-boyfriend of mine. It’s
no big deal.”

“Ugh.” Kallie grimaced. “That’s not good.”

“The ex was from a long time ago, when I was like seventeen. It’s really nothing.”

“You’re sure? Really, really sure?”

This is your chance to tell her that maybe it’s not such a good idea after all, Scarlett
thought. But then the moment passed.

“I’m excited to do this. There’s no problem with me and Bryson,” she lied.

Kallie put an arm around her. “I know you’re going to be amazing,” Kallie said.

“This is a great opportunity for all of us.”

Scarlett put on her smile and thanked Kallie profusely, hoping that maybe someday
soon she’d actually believe it.

***

When Bryson called her the very next morning to meet, Scarlett was still trying to
figure out whether she intended to go through with this crazy stunt. Yes, she needed
a job. She needed money and Kallie had reassured her yesterday that they would insist
she be paid a fair wage for being Bryson’s assistant.

But the fact remained that Scarlett knew she was going to hate working for this man.
So when she saw the unknown number come across her cell phone, she was tempted not
to even answer it.

But finally she did, sitting up in bed and clearing her throat as she brought the
phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Scarlett?” the unmistakable voice of Bryson Taylor said.

“This is she.”

“Hey, it’s Bryson.”

She waited.

“You still there?” he asked.

“Yup.”

He laughed. “Okay then. This isn’t starting off awkward at all.”

“Sorry, I’m just tired.” It was true, even if it wasn’t even remotely the real reason
she was being so difficult.

“Jetlag can be a real bitch,” he said. “Anyway, I wanted to see if you’d like to
meet up this afternoon to discuss the position? It’s just a casual thing, not all
business uptight like yesterday.”

She sighed, thinking of the empty day ahead of her. Might as well get it out of the
way, she decided. “Sure, why not?”

“Great. I’ll text you the address. Want to make it, say, one o’clock?”

She forced a smile to her face and made herself sound upbeat. “Sounds great, Bryson.”

“Okay, see you then.”

She got off the phone, and a minute later the text came through with the address to
meet. And then the very next second a follow-up text that said:
Really looking forward to getting started!

Scarlett actually found a sincere smile coming to her face when she read that.

And this caused her to rethink her snap judgment about Bryson’s character. Was it
possible she’d misjudged him?

Maybe the sad truth of it was that Bryson Taylor was nothing but a relaxed, simple
guy, who just so happened to resemble a certain ex-boyfriend from her past.

It wasn’t Bryson’s fault that he looked like Owen. Well, more than that, he also
shared some of Owen’s mannerisms. Things that she’d loved when she was in love with
Owen, but hated once she’d had her heart smashed into a thousand pieces by the one
person she’d dared trust.

But that was Owen. Owen is not Bryson—they’re two different people.

And it wasn’t right for her to treat Bryson badly based on something he had no control
over.

Then and there, Scarlett made a resolution. She would try and start fresh with Bryson,
and she would try to make the most of this new job opportunity that Kallie had been
kind enough to extend to her.

This could be the beginning of the change she’d been trying to make in her life, if
she didn’t sabotage it with a bad attitude.

Having made this decision, Scarlett found herself smiling a lot more frequently.

She even caught herself humming once or twice as she got ready for the day.

Scarlett ended up wearing jeans and a t-shirt, keeping it casual as Bryson had suggested.
She assumed the address he’d texted her was for a coffee shop or something, but was
surprised when the cab she was taking stopped in front of some outdoor basketball
courts.

“Here you go,” the driver said, turning and smiling.

“Are you sure?” Scarlett asked, turning in her seat to look up and down the street.

“Is there a coffee shop around here? Maybe a restaurant?”

The driver shook his head and repeated the address again. Scarlett checked it against
the text message.

The driver was sure that it was the same address.

But that made no sense. Maybe Bryson had texted her the wrong address by accident.
Scarlett found her frustration growing already, but she calmed herself down.

This is no big deal. Simple mistake. Just call him up and…

But just at that moment, she caught a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye.

It was him—Bryson—standing beside the fence of the nearest basketball court, taking
a swig of water from a plastic bottle. He was dressed in baggy green shorts and a
grey, sweat-stained t-shirt.

“Should we try another address?” the cabbie asked.

“Nope.” She sighed and shook her head. “This is the place. And I’m screwed.”

The driver laughed appreciatively. “Aint we all.”

Scarlett paid the cab fare and then got out of the cab, slowly making her way past
the chain link fence and inside the courts. Men were playing aggressively just a
few feet away—playing as if their very lives depended on making a shot or stealing
the ball.

This wasn’t simply a friendly game. They were driving hard to the basket, fouling,
and a couple of them were even athletic enough to dunk.

Scarlett was surprised, if not exactly impressed. They all looked far too sweaty
and animalistic. She sat down on one of the steel benches nearby and watched Bryson.

He dribbled the ball effortlessly when it was passed to him, then passed it off.
When he cut to the basket, someone gave him the ball again and he jumped up and put
it in with ease, looking up and smiling at his teammate.

Scarlett wanted to believe that this was a misunderstanding. After all, she was just
beginning to try out her new and improved attitude. But when they took a quick break
and he headed over to the bench and sat down next to her, Scarlett’s hopes were dashed.

“Hey, you made it,” he said, grinning at her as he opened his water bottle.

“I almost turned around. I figured you’d given me the wrong address.” She squinted
at him as the sun reflected off the blacktop.

“Sorry, I should’ve mentioned we were playing,” he said. Then he drank for a long
time. Water rivulets dripped down his chin.

“Are you almost done?” she asked him.

“Done with what?”

“Your game. I mean, you invited me here to talk.”

“Let’s talk,” he said. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “No time like the present.”

“So your game is over?”

“It’s really not an issue for me.” He took another small sip.

Scarlett felt a surge of anger. She wiped the hair from her eyes. “Okay, fine.

Let’s get it over with. Tell me what you expect from me.”

“Not much. When I get to New York, I guess you can do the basics. Organize my calendar,
send emails, that kind of thing.”

Scarlett nodded. “Is that all? I mean, won’t there be movie specific help you’ll
need from me?”

“I doubt it. I’ll have assistant directors and so forth. They’ll be my go-to people
as far as movie stuff goes.” He looked at her with his blue eyes.

“Yo, Taylor! You in or out?” One of the men called to him. The game appeared to
be reforming.

“One second!” Bryson called out. He turned back to her. “To be honest, I don’t think
I really need an assistant.”

Scarlett resisted the urge to stand up, call him an asshole, and walk off the court.

“Why did you offer me this position if you didn’t need my help?”

“Because, it was really awkward. Kallie asked for something for you to do, and they
all just blew it off. I felt bad for her.”

“Then let’s just forget the whole thing.” She stood up.

“Hey, no. That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what did you mean?”

He stood up and looked at her. He was taller than her, and she felt his masculinity—smelled
his sweat. It wasn’t a very unclean smell, but somehow it made her uncomfortable.
He was wet and glistening in the sun, muscular and tan and strong.

She felt tiny and pale and weak in comparison.

“I just meant to say that I’m not sure how the whole thing’s going to work.” He grinned.
“But I still want to try. And either way, you’ll make money and probably meet some
really cool people.”

She supposed that grin probably had worked a lot of magic in its time, but she wasn’t
falling for it. “Whatever you say, Bryson. You’re the director.”

“That’s right. Thanks for reminding me, Scarlett.” He began backing away from her,
moving towards the center of the court, where his teammates awaited him.

Scarlett turned and left the area without looking back for a long time. When she
finally turned around again, she was far enough away that she was fairly sure Bryson
couldn’t see her anymore.

She watched them play basketball for five or ten more minutes.

She wasn’t sure why she kept watching, why her heart was beating slightly faster than
normal, why her stomach was churning with a strange sensation she hadn’t had in years.

But then she just left, and walked until she could catch a cab back to the hotel.

***

Kallie couldn’t believe that Hunter was finally being released from the hospital.

She’d been certain they would want to keep him at least another week. He’d only just
begun walking the halls the previous day, and he wasn’t all that steady on his feet
yet.

But apparently that’s how things worked nowadays. They turned beds over fast—

even if you were a big shot movie producer.

As they packed his essentials and made sure he had everything he would need, Hunter
was finishing getting dressed. He was wearing gray sweats and a black Nike zip-up
hoodie. All of his movements were slow and deliberate, as if he’d only just learned
how to put on clothes recently.

She noticed him grimacing here and there as he stretched to do things that his body
wasn’t used to, and that likely put some strain on his chest wound.

Kallie was throwing out some of the trash that had accumulated over the last six or
eight hours, while Hunter did what he had to do.

Detective Phillips was waiting right outside the room, talking to one of the nurses.

She felt a surprising burst of affection for the strange, mercurial detective. He’d
actually been quite an asset—and she was almost beginning to view him as a friend.

“Damn,” Hunter hissed.

Kallie turned to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t reach my feet. Will you help me with my socks and shoes?” His voice betrayed
his frustration.

“It’s okay,” Kallie said. “Don’t strain yourself trying to do every little thing.”

“I know, I know. I just hate being like a fucking infant, needing so much help.”

“It’s just temporary.”

“I know that.”

She glanced up at him, wondering if he was in more pain than he was letting on.

This was the first time she’d seen him edgy since he’d come into the hospital. Of
course he was only human, and there would be struggles as he healed. She knew that
much.

Kallie bent down and put on Hunter’s socks and slid his sneakers over his feet, tied
the laces. It did sort of feel like she was tying a little boys shoes for him, which
made her smile for some reason.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” She rolled her eyes.

“Exactly. Nothing,” he agreed, petulantly.

Now it was even more like dealing with a kid, and she restrained herself from giggling
with a mighty effort.

When that was done, all they had to do was get him wheelchair and bring him down to
be officially discharged. Detective Phillips said something to the nurse, and she
turned and left. Then he came into the room, surveying the bags. “You have everything
you need?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kallie replied, mentally ticking off the list as she spoke. “Clothes, keys,
phone, wallet, medications—“ There was an entire white paper bag filled with his antibiotics
and painkillers, creams and lotions and dressings.

Hunter sighed and lowered himself to a sitting position on the bed. “I’m fucking
exhausted already. I feel like I’m halfway up Mount Everest.”