Page 22 of False Play
“Not many. But I can take care of those later.”
He reached for my suitcase handle, his knuckles grazing my hand. The touch was unexpectedly charged, so I retracted my hand quickly, desperately trying to tame the buzzing sensation rippling through my body.
“I’ll give you the tour, and then I’ll go get them while you get settled.” He walked down the foyer, and I aimlessly followed after him.
I wasn’t a stranger to fancy things. Joe’s parents came from old money and loved to flaunt it every chance they got. But as I took in the apartment, I was at a loss for words.
The place was an open concept with floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the living room and the side of the kitchen, offering a perfect view of Navy Pier and the bustling city. The view alone took my breath away. It had to be beautiful at night, especially with the fireworks happening almost every evening at the Pier during the summer.
Something purred and rubbed against my legs, and when I looked down, I found a fluffy black cat with the cutest white paws. When he peered up at me, his majestic orange eyes locked on mine as he let out a soft meow.
I crouched down and started petting his head softly. “You must be Captain Sushi,” I whispered. He meowed again like he was agreeing. “Hi, sweet boy.”
“He likes you. He doesn’t even rub against me like that.”
“I thought Hayes said he had separation anxiety?” I looked up at him, squinting.
He cleared his throat with a quick nod. “He does, but that doesn’t mean he’s not an asshole sometimes.”
The cat stared at him when he said that, and it was too late to stop the laugh that bubbled out of me. “I can’t believe you have a cat.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
I rose to my full height and pinned him with a glare. “Honestly? I thought you guys were full of shit.”
“Why would you think that?”
“We both know you love fucking with me,” I replied in a dry tone.
“No, I don’t,” he said, but I didn’t miss the way he suppressed a smile.
“Oh, so we’re going to pretend you don’t love to get under my skin every chance you get?” I tilted my head.
He raised his hands in mock defeat. “To be fair, it’s not my fault you get so easily riled up.”
“I’m not easily riled up. You just so happen to have a natural talent for annoying everyone around you,” I retorted.
He thinned his lips to contain his laughter, his eyes flashing with asee? So easylook. “Let me give you the tour.” He waved his hand around and strode into the open-concept kitchen. “I have a chef who cooks my meals and stocks them in the fridge weekly. I try to follow a strict diet during the season, but he can make you whatever you want. Let me know if you’re allergic to anything.”
The kitchen was centered around a white granite island flanked by light-gray barstools. The gray cabinets had soft underlighting, adding a sense of warmth to the kitchen. Double ovens gleamed against the backdrop, alongside a fridge seamlessly integrated into the cabinetry, and a door I assumed led to the pantry.
I shook my head. “That’s not necessary. I can cook for myself.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind. Consider it a thank you, since I know your schedule has to be crazy because of me.”
I gave him an awkward smile, opting to stay silent because he was mostly right. Working to fix his image on top of everything else I had going on kept me extremely busy. Most of the time, I was so tired I either ate a packet of ramen or skipped dinner altogether and went straight to bed.
He pointed at the living room. “The couch is stupidly comfortable. I’ve been victimized by it and fallen asleep there too many times to count. I have every streaming service, which you’re welcome to use. I even created a profile for you. But there’s also a TV in your room in case you prefer that.”
The living room had a black L-shaped couch, paired with a cool-gray rug and a minimalistic white coffee table. The couch faced a massive TV seamlessly built into the wall, giving the area a modern, polished feel.
The image of him sprawled out on the couch in nothing but his boxers suddenly invaded my mind—his chiseled muscles, the sharp lines of his V-cut I’d seen many times during photo ops, and that trail of dark hair leading from his navel downward. The thought alone made my spine tingle.
Pull yourself together, Kennedy. This is not the time for inappropriate thoughts about your coworker and roommate.
He strode to the hallway where the rooms were located. “Here’s your room.” He opened the door, letting me walk in first. “It’s right next to mine. The other one across the hall is my office that I most definitely don’t use, so you’re welcome to use it. Every room has its own bathroom, so you have everything accessible.”
The room was spacious. It almost looked like a master bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the wall, offering another breathtaking view of the bustling city. A vanity desk with a cute pink velvet chair sat near the wall, and the bed was propped right in the center, adorned with fluffy white pillows and a heavenly-looking comforter.
