Play Along (Windy City, #4)

by Liz Tomforde

“You have a game tomorrow. You can’t sleep on the floor. It’s my literal job to make sure your body is ready to play.” That timely smirk is back. “Oh, baby, trust me. My body is ready to play.”

“There’s a bathroom right there.” He looks at it, then me, holding eye contact as he undoes his belt. “So there is.”

His pants hit the ground, and I don’t have anything left to say. Yes, I’ve seen his body, but from a medical standpoint. I’ve never looked or touched for any reason other than science. But I’m looking now, and it most definitely isn’t for science.

His back is long and defined, muscles moving in a mesmerizing pattern as he rummages through his things.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before, Doc.” Isaiah doesn’t even have to look back at me to know I’m staring. I glance away anyway.

Thick thighs from all the years of playing shortstop in that squatting position. And boxer briefs tight enough to make it clear why this man is so popular.

“Of course you’re a perfectionist.” Isaiah rests his chin on my shoulder. “Because you’re freaking perfect!” “You’re annoying.” I shrug him off, taking my toiletries bag to the bathroom.

He shoots me a wink over the words better half.

Flirt. He hangs up the phone. “They’re out of the free ones and their market doesn’t sell any. There’s a drugstore close by and I got directions.” “From Polly?” His lip twitches in a smirk. “Jealous.” Finding a nearby shirt, he slips it on, followed by his hat.

“I was only going with them because I didn’t have any other plans. But now I have plans, so let’s go.” “A run to the drugstore doesn’t qualify as plans.” “It does to me.” He holds the door open for me. “C’mon, Kenny, let’s go be domestic.”

“That color kind of looks like your hair and Trav once told me your hair was red. I know it’s not just red. It’s auburn. Kennedy Kay Auburn, in fact.” Travis had to tell him my hair was red? The mismatched clothes. Choosing the wrong colors. Having to ask what color my hair is. “Isaiah, are you colorblind?” His smile is sheepish as he rocks back on his heels. “Yeah.”

“You memorized my hair color?” “Yeah,” he laughs to himself. It’s a self-conscious sound I’ve never heard come from the cocky shortstop. “That day we met in the bathroom, I couldn’t classify it. For the most part, I’ve gotten blonde and brunette figured out, so I asked Cody what color your hair was and he told me it was auburn. Kennedy Kay Auburn.”

My hearttttt

Reaching up on my toes, I try for the purple toothbrush on the row second from the top. Even in my platform Vans, I can’t reach it, so Isaiah leans over me to grab it. I notice he’s careful not to let any part of him touch any part of me. I think I hate that.

“Besides my favorite shade of auburn, no, I don’t have a favorite color.”

We get in line at the cash register just as his fingertips fall in the spaces between mine. He asked me if I wanted him to touch me, and he’s doing just that at a pace I feel comfortable with. It makes me want to cry.

“Yellow.” He appraises my answer. “Why yellow?” “It’s like you. Bright. Happy.” Reminds me of the sun. “Yellow,” he repeats. “Good color. My favorite color, in fact.” His smile is warm as he looks down at me, and maybe that’s exactly what my cold needs.

Kennedy pats her now free table. “Take your shirt off.” “Damn. No foreplay?”

Lmaooooooo

“My wife, huh?” “Technically speaking.” “Say it again. I liked it.”

I watch her. So focused on her job that she doesn’t notice me noticing how long her lashes are, or when I start counting the freckles dusted on the bridge of her nose. She doesn’t see me visually trace the slope of her jaw or locate the indent from the dimples she tries to hide with all her scowling at me.

She’s so pretty and sometimes a little mean. It’s a lethal combination for me.

“Can I ask a favor?” “I already married you once, Kennedy. What else do you want from me?”

With my palm resting on my knee, I ever so slyly reach out to dust my fingertips against the back of her thigh before curling them in. My silent way of telling her I like exactly where she’s standing.

Freckled skin. Pouty lips. My eyes immediately drop to them, and I find myself licking my own. I want to know what those lips taste like, what her mouth would feel like against mine. I’ve wondered for years. And the idea that I may have already kissed this girl, but was too drunk to remember, kills me.

Her gaze drops to my mouth, and she doesn’t move or shy away. That little victory feels like I won the lottery.

Your swing develops real quick when you spend your entire childhood practicing against Kai Rhodes. He is still, to this day, the best pitcher I’ve gone up against.

“Nice job, nineteen.” With my hands gripped to the edge of my box, I look down to find Kennedy, wearing our team polo and those shoes I bought and married her in. “Nice shoes.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to tell me what a good boy I am for not getting in a fist fight with your brother?” “You want me to call you a good boy?” “Mmm, yes, please. Preferably while we’re naked and you’re on top of me, but now would do too.”

Ryan nods his head because if anyone could understand faking a relationship to get them further in their career it’s him. It’s how he met his wife, after all.

“What? It’s what the baby wanted. Don’t blame me. Blame them.” “It’s also what I wanted.” It’s a voice in the background. Male. Boston accent. “Is that Rio?” I ask, taking my phone back from my brother. Suddenly, Rio’s dark hair and goofy grin take over my phone. “I thought this was girls’ night?” His eyes narrow in confusion. “It is.”

Lmaoooooooooo

Rio’s confusion only deepens. “I just said it was girls’ night.”

Miller snatches her phone back from him, but in the background, I hear him call out, “If you can hear me, Ryan Shay, I love you!” Ryan laughs to himself because his wife’s best guy friend might be more in love with him than she is.

I don’t fully register his words because a text from Kennedy drops onto the screen, stealing my focus. The Mrs Can you call me? “Miller, I gotta go. Kennedy needs me to call her.”

“Yes. I’m sorry for asking, but I need you.” I need you. I’m off the bed and shoving my feet into my shoes.

“Everyone is here.” Everyone is here. Her words are begging me to put the pieces together and it doesn’t take long for me to register what that means. Her ex is there. Maybe her stepsister too.

She’s stunning, classically beautiful, walking right towards me, and I’m wearing fucking jeans.

“Well, I can’t say the same about you. Average, I mean. The way you look in that dress…” I shake my head in disbelief. “You look like you’re going to say something a little bit evil, break my heart, and I’ll end up thanking you for it.” “Don’t tempt me, Rhodes.”

“I already think you’re an angel.” She shoots me a deadpan look.

“C’mon, wife.” I lead her back into the dining room. “Time to play along.”

Kennedy bends over to take a bite of her food, and I watch Connor glance down her dress from across the table. Mallory doesn’t notice her fiancé checking out his ex, but I sure as fuck do.

My blood instantly heats. He doesn’t get to sit here and put on some public show with his new fiancée while still checking out his old. Especially when his old fiancée is my new wife.

“Why?” she whispers. “Because he’s watching and I want him to know that you’re mine.”

She chuckles. “Yes, Isaiah. You can touch me.” Fuck me if I don’t get half hard just from those words alone.

“Mmm.” This time it’s me purring at her words. “Such an agreeable wife.” Her laugh is louder, but it’s genuine, no part of it for show. I fucking love it.

Eyes are on us right now, I can feel them, and I’ll let Kennedy believe this is all for show, but in truth, I’ve been dying for her to let me touch her for years. Been dying to have her attention. Been dying to simply sit and eat dinner next to the girl. Wouldn’t mind if she caught up on that same need, but I’ll let her believe faking it is enough for now.

I trace my fingertips on the inside of Kennedy’s thigh, thankful for the black material of her dress acting as a barrier to stop me because I’m fairly certain I’d die a quick death if she ever let me touch her properly.

“Excuse me?” I stand from my seat. “Watch your fucking words when you’re speaking to my wife.” She blanches. “What did you just say to me?” “I don’t think you need me to repeat myself.”

Her lower lip nestles into the dip between mine and I’m beyond tempted to suck it into my mouth and see what kind of noises I could pull from her throat. She’s kissing me. Kennedy is kissing me.

I dust the pad of my thumb over her lower lip, forcing my signature smirk to appear as I say, “I think that’s our cue to get out of here, huh?”

“I cannot believe I just did that. I’m so sorry.” “You don’t have to apologize. You can kiss me anytime you want, Kenny. Please kiss me anytime you want.”

“That wasn’t what it⁠—” “I know what that was. I know you kissed me to prove a point about the shit he was saying. I fucking loved it. You want to use me to shut him up? I’m happy to volunteer.”