Play Along (Windy City, #4)

by Liz Tomforde

You could say I’m the wild one on the team. The one who is a little bit reckless and a whole lot cocky. The guy who will make himself the butt of the joke as long as it makes everyone around him smile. So, starting the season off by having a breakdown or potentially crying like a little bitch in front of my teammates wouldn’t exactly be on brand for me.

With bouncing knees, I sit on the closed toilet lid in one of the stalls, needing to get my shit together. Needing to get back to goofy, everything-rolls-off-his-shoulders Isaiah Rhodes. The one who knows how to make everyone around him happy. The one that everyone here expects to see when I enter the clubhouse.

I like being that guy. Ninety percent of the time, I naturally am that guy. I figured out when I was young that I could make my brother laugh even when he was too stressed to smile, and I thrived off that shit. It was as if I had found my purpose in life—to make those around me happy, so I tend to keep the sad, sappy moments private.

“Ms. Kay, if you do decide to come on board, this will be the one and only warning I give you. If there’s even a hint of some kind of nonsense between you and one of the players, your position will be terminated. There’s a reason I don’t hire women to work for me. You’ll be in locker rooms, on airplanes, and in hotels with them. I expect you’ll make sure you’re not a distraction.” There’s a reason I don’t hire women. Fucking asshole.

This tiny woman, with hair color I can’t categorize and a tone in her voice that would make any man’s balls shrivel up in fear, is fucking stunning. Freckles dot every inch of flushed, creamy skin. Eyes that I could make an educated guess and call them brown, seeing as they look a lot like mine. And lips…lips tucked under teeth to keep herself from crying because she’s clearly willing herself to be angry instead of sad. Call it instincts, but I’d imagine her smile could light me up if it wasn’t currently turned down in a frown.

I know nothing about this girl, but I do know she needs someone to make her smile, and that’s my specialty. I’m also a bit of a believer in fate, and though this day is my least favorite date on the calendar, I tend to find meaning in things on this day. Maybe I was supposed to overhear that conversation. Maybe I found myself stuck in the women’s restroom because she needs someone to talk to. Maybe my mom sent me on her path today.

“If you need someone to talk to about that job offer, I can help.” God, how fucking creepy was that? I reopen my eyes to watch hers shoot to the mirror before they find my feet in the reflection. “What are you doing in the women’s restroom?”

Black leggings hug every inch of her toned legs. A dark gray quarter-zip bunches around her elbows, finishing with perfectly clean white sneakers on her feet. Her freckles continue down her forearms and ankles, making me believe her pale skin is painted in them. Polished for wearing athletic gear. And pretty. So, so pretty.

“I don’t—” She freezes, eyes examining my entire body. I tower over her with my 6’4” build, but wearing my normal clothes, I don’t uniquely stand out. “Who are you?” It’s then I realize she has no idea that I’m the starting shortstop for the team she may potentially work for, and I have every intention to use my unknown identity to my advantage.

Hehehehehe

My eyes go wide at her candor. “Oh my God.” She grimaces before covering her face with her right hand. “I can’t believe I just told a complete stranger that I have two tits.” “I would’ve been a lot more impressed if you said you had three.”

She peeks through her fingers, and I plaster on my most mischievous smirk.

I hold out my hand to shake hers. “Isaiah.” She returns the gesture. “Kennedy.” “Well, Kennedy, now that I’m no longer a stranger, tell me more about these two tits of yours.”

Lmaoooo

So, she’s pretty and insanely smart. Got it.

“And why the hell am I telling you all of this?” I chuckle. She’s flustered. It’s endearing. “Because I’m a good listener.”

I personally think she should walk up to Dr. Fredrick and knee him in the balls, but I also really like the idea of her working here. I like the idea of that freckled face showing up at every one of my games.

“Isaiah, please.” Those two little words stop me in my tracks. My name. She sounds good saying my name. She sounds good begging too.

Ahhhhh I’m blushing

Independence and determination radiate off her, and though she’s got to be sitting somewhere around 5’3”, her shoulders are squared and pushed back, giving her as much height as possible. Making her as big as possible.

An fmc that is my height FINALLY

I slowly face Kennedy, my most innocent smile plastered on my lips. Her already pale skin is even more drained. “You’re a player?” “Shortstop.” I wink.

“Hey, Kenny!” I call out and she stops, reluctantly facing me. “I promised I’d make sure the other guys don’t give you a hard time, but I never said anything about me.”

I shoot her with another wink. “See you around, Doc.”

“I’d call it auburn. It’s a mix of warm red and earthy brown, but she’s also got some copper in there.” “Like a penny?” “Exactly.”

Her attention starts at my feet and works up my bare legs, only to linger over my boxer briefs and take their time tracing my shirtless chest. But when she drifts up to my face, I smile as arrogantly as possible, making sure she knows I caught her. She looks away instantly, and I can’t help but grin.

“So, who is she?” On this day, where everything feels like a sign, I don’t hesitate when I say, “My future wife.”

Oh I already love this man

Kennedy tucks a rogue strand of auburn hair behind her ear, and that’s when I see it—an impossible-to-miss diamond ring overtaking her left ring finger. Though somehow, I didn’t notice it before this moment. “Sorry, man.” Cody laughs again, palm connecting with my shoulder. “Looks like someone already beat you to it.” And just like that, it’s the worst day of the year again.

We’ve been in Vegas for a few days now, and this is our final night here. Every year, before the season starts, the boys and I take a preseason trip as an excuse for some team bonding. It’s typically somewhere hot or tropical as a reward for surviving the Chicago winter, and though Las Vegas isn’t too hot this time of the year, the stuffy clubs and overpriced alcohol are keeping us all plenty warm.

There’s been only one woman who has held my interest and now that she’s no longer wearing another man’s engagement ring, spending my time with anyone else holds zero appeal.

AHHHHHHHH!!!

Sure, I’ve given Kennedy Kay more shit than anyone else on the team, but that’s only because I made a promise to her that I would. And I always keep my promises.

“But hey,” I interrupt her thought process. “Find us inside and I’ll make sure the bartender puts all your drinks on my tab, yeah? Can’t have the birthday girl paying for all her own drinks, can we?” Her shoulders straighten, a bit of confidence returning to her face. “No, we absolutely cannot.”

“Isaiah, you have got to let that go. It’s been three years.” “It hasn’t been three years.” “You’ve been into that girl since the day she walked into the clubhouse for the first time.” “Yeah, but I only realized she was single eight months ago, so technically I’m only eight months in on this whole thing.”

I wasn’t shooting my shot. Sure, maybe I’ve shamelessly flirted with the girl for the past three years, but none of it was serious. She had a fiancé. But now…now she doesn’t. Now I’m dead serious about my intentions, but she thinks I’m still joking around. Call me ridiculous. Call me superstitious, but that day I met her three years ago felt like fate. What I typically consider the worst day of the year had a bright light for once.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking.” “Clearly.” The woman’s hair curtains her face as she babies her injured foot by hobbling on one single high heel in agony. That hair.

Even in the darkness of the club, I know that hair. The shade is one I’ve memorized. Auburn as Cody first taught me. Kennedy Kay Auburn as I refer to it now. “Kenny?” I watch her body instantly stiffen before her brown eyes cautiously lift to look at me. “Isaiah?”

God, she’s stunning. I rarely see her outside of athletic clothes, namely the staff uniform of a Warriors’ polo and black leggings. But tonight, that hair is down and perfectly styled, her freckled arms and legs fully exposed thanks to the crisp white mini dress and matching white heels. She looks so fucking good. Her outfit seems expensive and polished, tailored to fit her body.

“Is your foot okay? I’ll get some ice from the bartender.” “It’s fine. Surprisingly, my foot is more sore from wearing high heels than it is from being stepped on by two hundred pounds of muscle.” A smirk lifts on my lips. “Keeping up on my body stats, huh, Ken? I knew you were obsessed with me.”

Hehehehehe

“Kenny, are you okay?” “Yeah, it’s just kind of hot in here, I guess.” “And that’s why you’re trying to snuggle up to me in a night club right now? We can go back to my room if you’d like.” Leaning down, I whisper, “I’m a big fan of snuggling afterward.”

I lean down close to her ear, shooting my shot for what feels like the thousandth time I’ve done so in the past eight months. “Do you want to get out of here?” Her big brown eyes flit to mine. “Please.” I’m fairly certain my heart skips a beat because the last thing I ever expected when this night began was for Kennedy Kay to agree to hang out with me.

If you would have told me a year ago that Isaiah Rhodes, of all people, would be walking down the Vegas strip by my side, I would’ve assumed you were out of your mind.

And if you would’ve told me that the man she’s marrying is my ex-fiancé, I would’ve looked into having you committed. Because for my entire adult life, Connor Danforth and I knew we were marrying each other.

“One drink, Ken.” “No.” He tosses his head from side to side. “Let’s try that answer again. I liked it a whole lot better when you gave me those doe eyes inside and whispered ‘please.’”

“Fine. Please stop talking. You’re annoying.” A grin tilts. “Stop flirting with me, Kenny.”

As much as I hate to admit it, Isaiah Rhodes is kind of hot. I noticed it on the first day I started working for the Windy City Warriors, back when I thought he was a charming stranger willing to talk me through my employment problems and not one of the players on the team.

He’s in all black tonight, all the way down to his shoes. It’s strange. I’m used to seeing him in all different colors, and they typically don’t coordinate. Tonight, his light brown hair seems perfectly styled, but I’m certain he simply ran his fingers through it and got it to stay that way. The guy’s got good hair. Pretty face and stunning body too, and boy, does he know it.

He smirks, that little birthmark under his right eye drawing my attention to the mischief sparkling in them. “That can be fixed.”

“One drink, Kennedy. I’ve got you outside of work for the first time ever. One drink and I promise I’ll get you back to your hotel.”

“You’re buying.” That devilish smile is back. “With pleasure. But first…” He scans the area. “Come with me.”

“Did you forget about that whole part about my feet hurting? I’m wearing four-inch heels, Rhodes.” “I know. You’re almost eye to eye with my chest now.” “Funny,” I deadpan, speed walking to try to match his single stride with two of mine as we cross the street.

“I only agreed to one drink.” “You never indicated how fast I have to drink it. Could take me all night, really.”

He takes a sharp left, holding the door open for me to a shopping mall attached to one of the hotels. Even after midnight, stores are open and busy. Isaiah doesn’t slow down, walking right into the Vans store and finding the women’s section. He grabs a pair off the wall. “You like red, right? You’re always wearing the red team gear.” “Those aren’t red. Those are hot pink.”

“I don’t really⁠—” “Nah, checkered isn’t you.” He scans the wall again before zeroing in on a pair of black high tops with a single white stripe and a platform base. “These ones. Do you like these ones?”

I won’t lie, they are cute. I don’t wear much other than neutrals, unless I’m in the team colors of red and royal blue. And the platform will give me some height. Being 5’3” isn’t the worst thing in the world, but it’s a little difficult when you work with a bunch of giant men and already feel like your boss is looking down on you. Metaphorically that is, but still.