Play your part, p.12
Play Your Part, page 12
Alexei grinned at me. “I didn’t know you cared.”
“I don’t… I’m only here to keep up appearances.”
“With Briggsy?”
“Yeah. And Matt. He knows I’m a very caring person.”
“Funny, I haven’t seen that side of you.”
I swatted his arm, and Alexei raised his eyebrows as if to say, I rest my case.
“So if this were real, what would you do?”
For the second time tonight, my mouth went so dry I involuntarily swallowed. The question felt intimate with only the two of us in Alexei’s bedroom. My gaze roamed over his taut, tanned chest before lowering to his abdomen, appreciating the definition in each muscled ridge.
If this were real and Alexei hadn’t been mocking me, I would have climbed into his lap and made him forget all about the fight.
The way he was jutting out his chin at me, it felt like he could hear every unsavory thought. I had to put him on the defensive. I kneeled one leg on the mattress, making sure my leg grazed his, then leaned toward him to do what I’d fantasized about earlier. My hand traveled from his scruffy jaw, down his neck, over his torso, feeling the hard muscles in his chest and abdomen, liking the way they clenched in response to my touch.
Alexei’s breathing hitched, the sound so sexy, I realized too late this game I was playing with him wasn’t good for me either. Because I liked the feel of him under my fingertips. I relished the power I had, the way I could affect his breathing with such simple action.
I hated the weak part of me that wanted him to touch me back.
“Too bad you’ll never know,” I whispered, my mouth mere inches from his.
Before I could pull back, Alexei grabbed my wrist. “We never did make that bet, did we?”
I rolled my eyes and tried to get myself under control, but when I spoke, my voice came out breathless. “You wish, hotshot.”
Alexei dropped my hand, then cleared his throat. I pulled back from the bed, and turned to walk out the door.
He called out, “I don’t think you should leave yet.”
I felt the surprise of those words plunge into the pit of my stomach. I turned back around, waiting for his explanation.
“You’re my girlfriend. He called you because he thought I needed you. It would look weird for you to leave right away.”
I shrugged, suddenly itching to put distance between us. “Maybe you don’t need me.”
“In any way?” Alexei stared at me meaningfully.
I scoffed. “I’m not pretending to have sex with you for the benefit of your roommate.”
“No— I wasn’t—” Alexei cut himself off with a sigh. He roughly thrust a hand through his hair. “Just don’t leave. Hang out here awhile. That’s all I meant.”
“Oh. Right. I guess I can do that.” I looked around the room for somewhere to sit, but the options were limited. He didn’t have any chairs, so it meant the floor or on the bed next to him. I ducked to settle against the foot of his bed when Alexei barked out a laugh.
“You’re not sitting on the floor.” He gestured to the space beside him.
“Only if you put a shirt on.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“Whatever will make you comfortable.” His haughty grin and teasing voice made me want to fall through the floor. After kicking him in the nuts, of course.
I slipped out of my shoes, then walked to the opposite side of the bed. Thankfully, Alexei was wearing a shirt by the time I settled on the edge, as far from him as I could be without falling onto the floor. Alexei laughed quietly at the massive distance I left between us.
But all I could focus on was getting through this time together.
I would do whatever was necessary, even if it revealed more of my weakness than I would have liked.
18
ALEXEI
“I’m not going to jump you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Kennedy parked herself on the edge of the bed, one shuffle away from falling on her ass. After her little show, I didn’t expect this display of modesty, as if she needed to make it any clearer nothing would ever happen between us. Her message had landed each of the hundred times she said it, including no less than five minutes ago.
She crossed her arms over her chest as her cheeks turned a bit pink. “I’m not worried about that.”
“Is there another reason you’re hovering on the edge of the bed then?”
“I’m not.” She made a show of looking over and discovering she might fall off the bed with the slightest movement. She shifted toward me, still leaving significant space between us. “I didn’t realize.”
I nodded, pretending to agree, but only because if I pushed more, the tenuous peace between us might snap. Pushing Kennedy’s back against the wall had backfired more than once. Doing it figuratively or literally—something I couldn’t stop thinking about now that I had her in my room—would send us back to each other’s throats.
I grabbed a strand of her hair. “I like the new color. Even if it isn’t one of ours.” She’d dyed it darker than her natural brown and added blue, which changed shades as her hair moved in the light. Not everyone could pull off a color this bold, but it suited her fair skin so well, she might as well have been born with it. “Something you’ve wanted to do for a while or spur of the moment?”
Her gaze remained on my hand holding a lock of her hair. “It was time for change.” She definitely didn’t remember what she said in the backyard at the season-opening party then.
I released the strand of hair. “So what would you be doing if the wunderkind hadn't texted you?”
She blinked. “That doesn’t bother you?”
“What? Briggsy texting you?”
I knew that Briggsy contacting her saved my house and our new rookie from burning up in a grease fire. Like most people who travel, I had installed cameras. When I got home from a massage appointment and found my house smelling like smoke and my pan burnt to an unrecognizable crisp and buried under trash, I watched the security footage. On it, Zach left bacon cooking on the stovetop unattended, only coming back when the smoke alarm sounded and flames were sky high.
“No. That Zach is getting all this attention,” she clarified.
I leaned back against the headboard, tilting my head her way and studying her expression. “Oh, you’re serious? No, I don’t give a shit. I had the attention before, and it’s nice, but I’ve been on the opposite side of it. I’d rather stay clear.”
“Except now you can’t.”
“No, not exactly.”
“You blame me for that?” Kennedy fiddled with the hem of her shirt.
At one point, I might have blamed Kennedy, but that was because she was here and the real culprit wasn’t. Besides, she’d fallen victim to Hurricane Ward as much as I had. It didn’t seem fair to hold anything against her, even if it did keep my other feelings about her at bay. More than anything, though, I could tell she needed someone to be on her side.
“No, I blame your asshole ex.”
Kennedy nodded once, then fell back against the headboard as well. “If I were home, I’d be watching TV.”
“True crime?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Yeah. How did you—” Kennedy stopped abruptly, a slow smile appearing on her face before she covered it with one of her hands. I learned about her true crime obsession that first night at Gemma and Matt’s. The night my attraction to her became clear… to both of us. It wasn’t as if finding Kennedy beautiful was new, but wanting her was something I hadn’t let myself feel until she forced it on me when she landed in my lap.
“Pitch it to me.”
“What?”
“Your best true crime story. We have to do something.” I gestured around the room. What I would prefer to do was off the table. “Whoever pitches best, wins.”
“And who will be the judge? It’s just us here.”
Trust me, I thought, I don’t need that reminder.
“I think we can be adults about it and come to an agreement.”
She batted her eyelashes at me. “And what will you be pitching me on? Backward baseball caps? The value of public insinuations about our relationship?”
“You’re still harping on that?” I teased with a smirk.
She made a show of huffing loudly, but I could tell it was in good fun rather than actual annoyance.
“I’m going to pitch you hockey.”
Kennedy stilled. “You don’t need to pitch me hockey, Alexei.”
“Why? You’ve made up your mind for all eternity?” I asked, not sure why I was pressing her. “I can’t believe you find my sport boring. Brutal or hard to follow—”
“Alexei—”
“I bet I can make you change your mind.” I grinned at her, bringing out both my dimples—something that never seemed to fail me with women in the past.
“You don’t have to pitch me hockey because I used to love it,” Kennedy said, fixing her gaze anywhere but on my face. “I never found it boring. I only said that to annoy you.” She swallowed. “I actually used to work for the team. That’s how Deandra and I know each other.”
The heaviness of her confession eclipsed the victory of getting her to admit the truth. She shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but I knew this went beyond trying to annoy me. I watched her intently, willing myself quiet, hoping she would tell me more.
Kennedy took a long inhale before continuing. “My dad bought the team for my mom because hockey was her favorite thing in the world… besides us. I remember when I was about eight, we went to a game for the first time, the three of us, and her eyes lit up the moment she saw the ice. My dad liked hockey, but I think he bought the team because he loved seeing her eyes light up like that.
“When we moved here, my mom and I watched every game together. The same seats, ten rows behind the Wolves bench. It was our thing, you know?” Her voice snagged on the last words, and she paused again before taking a deep breath. “She died last year.”
The words landed like a punch to my gut. So much about Kennedy suddenly made sense, including my instinct that she was fucking sad, but not because of her breakup with Ward.
“Hey,” I said, gently touching her shoulder. She turned toward me, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. This is why you don’t work for the team anymore?”
“It doesn’t feel right… without her.”
It meaning working for the Wolves, or watching games, or talking about the sport. She reached for her water bottle beside the bed. My hand dropped from her shoulder with the movement. The position felt so natural I’d forgotten it still lingered.
“I think… I stayed with Justin because he knew my history. Never questioned me until…”
I nodded my understanding. She didn’t have to have this conversation to explain it… or any of her other life choices. Suffocating, uncomfortable silence filled the room. Kennedy stared blankly ahead. She hadn’t wanted to talk about this—not tonight, not ever—so the least I could do was move the fuck on, try to get back the energy we had before I brought up a topic from our no-go list.
“Well, your pitch can’t be any worse than that,” I said, mentally crossing my fingers she wouldn’t see it as insensitive.
Kennedy let out a snort-laugh. I looked over to find her shoulders no longer bunched up to her ears. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek, then turned her head against the headboard to meet my gaze. She held eye contact, for one beat and then another, extending far longer than usual.
Maybe it made me an asshole, but all I could think about was leaning forward and capturing her bottom lip in mine. My stomach clenched in anticipation, the feeling strong enough, I had to look away before I acted on it. The last thing she wanted after a confession like that was a guy coming on to her.
And from me, she never wanted that.
I tapped her knee. “Come on. I’ll let you pitch while we get food.”
“You can cook?” Kennedy asked, sitting on one of the counter stools, watching as I collected ingredients and cooking utensils.
I glanced over my shoulder, suppressing a wince with the movement. “When the occasion calls for it.”
“And what’s the occasion?”
I could hear the smile in her voice, half the reason I brought us down here.
“Your big pitch. What else?”
She laughed. “What are you making?”
“Blinis,” I told her as I moved over to her counter so she could watch. “Or what you would consider small pancakes. One of my favorite foods and perfect for this time of night.”
“I love pancakes.”
“Great,” I said. “You can help me.”
She remained where she sat, cocking her head to the side. “You know this counts, right?”
“What?”
“If we cook together, this becomes a date. Your final date of the month. Aside from the Halloween party, since that’s a team event.”
I shrugged, trying to snuff out my disappointment at the reminder that we were only here together because of our deal. This counted toward an allotment of time I could spend with her. I hadn’t forgotten, but for a second, while we joked and laughed together, it didn’t feel like pretending. “It’s cute you think that’ll affect me more than you.”
She glared at me, but I continued as if I hadn’t seen it.
“You can use it as an anecdote at the party tomorrow to show how I’m the greatest boyfriend to ever exist.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I know nothing about cooking, so this is going to test your patience.”
“I had to show Briggsy how to make pasta,” I said, pushing the bowl toward her. “You can’t be worse than him.”
Together, we walked through the recipe, which was perfect for a beginner. It involved throwing a bunch of ingredients into a bowl and mixing or whisking at each step until the batter was ready to be cooked on the stovetop. I let her watch me add the first round of batter to the skillet.
“Have you ever heard of The Nightstand?” she asked as I flipped the first round of blinis. I shook my head. “Gregory Berk ring any bells?”
I smiled. “I don’t watch true crime.”
“Okay. Well, ten years ago, a woman died a couple of towns from here. Her husband was the only one there with her and he called 9-1-1.”
“He killed her?” I surmised.
“That’s the thing, it’s unclear.” Kennedy gestured animatedly with her hands. Her eyes tracked my movements, though, as I carefully moved the blinis to a plate. “He was charged with murder, but there were chain-of-custody issues with the evidence, so his conviction was thrown out. He was having an affair and she was the breadwinner, so a lot of people think he killed her for life insurance. Other people think she tripped and fell in the middle of the night because her sleeping pills disoriented her. Or someone broke in, maybe a person she knew or the husband’s mistress, since there were no signs of forced entry.”
“Wasn’t he sleeping beside her?”
“They slept in separate bedrooms, and he wore a sleep apnea mask at night. It’s possible he wouldn’t have heard an intruder.”
“What do you think?”
“I can’t tell you that. Half the fun is hearing what other people think happened. Comparing notes.” Kennedy stared at me expectantly. “Do you want to watch it?”
I wasn’t a fan of the genre, but I did like the way it lit Kennedy’s eyes. “You don’t mind watching again?”
“Absolutely not.”
I laughed at the immediacy of her answer. “All right. I’ll give it a shot, but only if you can successfully make this last round of blinis.”
She didn’t hesitate and rose to the challenge. I leaned against the counter and slipped my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants. Even if she burned the shit out of these blinis, I would eat them without complaint.
19
ALEXEI
Opening my eyes the next morning to Kennedy settled snugly against me did funny things to my chest.
Her eyes remained closed, her breath steady and slow. I allowed myself to watch her in this rare, unguarded moment. Kennedy’s black-blue hair spread over my arm and onto the white pillow behind us, now covered in residual blue. She still wore the clothes from last night, a loose T-shirt over denim shorts that revealed toned legs. She fell asleep before she could remove her makeup, leaving a dark line beneath each eyelid. I smiled at the mismatched socks on her feet, one with blue and red stripes, the other gray with black stars. Not even close.
Last night, we let episode one continue into episode two, and before we knew it, we finished three episodes of the show. Kennedy hadn’t oversold the mystery unraveling in front of us. I didn’t know if I would have enjoyed it as much without her commentary or reactions, but now I needed to know how it ended. Especially after the twist that caused me to grab the remote to pause the show. “You’re shitting me, right? He knew someone else who died in his bedroom?”
Kennedy grinned wide like a Cheshire cat. “Quite the twist, huh?”
I took a long drink of my soda, letting the bubbles soothe my parched mouth. “There’s no way this guy didn’t kill his wife.”
She shrugged as she mimed that her lips were sealed.
“You think he’s innocent then? Death by nightstand?”
Kennedy laughed, loud and unrestrained. No covering her mouth to hide the emotion this time. It complicated things, loving that sound as much as I did. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
“Want to keep watching? I don’t have a media interview until ten, and it’ll be better if I look wrecked for that anyway.”
She rolled her eyes, but her smile remained. “You won’t even have to imply we’re banging then.”
I swallowed hard, fixing a neutral expression to hide what those words did to me. Christ. I needed to get a grip.
Kennedy wasn’t having the same dilemma as me. She easily drew the line between what was real and what was for show. She also continued to remind me she wasn’t interested in me, despite our clear chemistry. Maybe all I could hope for was a temporary friendship, moments like last night when we could have fun together as we finished out this charade. I was in no shape for a relationship anyway, and I had a sneaking suspicion Kennedy had trouble with casual.
