Page 29 of False Play
He took the cart from me with as he shot me one of his killer smiles, the one that made his dimples deepen. “Good, because I meant it as one.”
His words made their way to my stomach, making it flutter, so I cleared my throat to tame the feeling as I nodded at his outfit. “Do you ever get tired of doing this every time you go out?”
He shrugged halfheartedly. “I’m used to it.”
“Still, itmust suck.”
“A little,” he murmured.
I hummed in understanding. Most of these guys played because it was their passion, not because of the fame it came with. Honestly, if it were up to some of them, they’d preferred to stay out of the public eye. But that wasn’t how the business worked.
“I have to get a few things, so we can meet outside in an hour.”
His blue-gray eyes locked with mine, and he frowned. “Nonsense. I’ll go with you.”
A nervous laugh escaped me. I was looking forward to grabbing my favorite coffee and strolling down the aisles. Sure, I needed some things for my new room, but mostly, I enjoyed coming here to wander, as any normal person would.
Joe always hated coming with me. He’d complain the entire time—until he got tired enough to wait in the car. Then he’d bitch about it on the way home. Which was ironic, considering I never invited him in the first place. He always insisted on tagging along. I rarely went out by myself when we were together. If I did, he would be texting and calling constantly, and if I missed one call, forget about it. I’d never heard the end of it. So, I stopped taking time for myself, because it wasn’t worth the hassle.
“I’ll be quick.”
He grabbed a packet of strawberries and placed them in the cart with a shrug. “I don’t have anything to do, take your time.” He threw me one of his lopsided smiles, and for the briefest moment, I brought my walls down low enough to take him at his word.
“I’m going to grab a coffee, then we’ll go.” Before I could take a step toward the coffee shop, his hand gripped my waist, squeezing it gently. The touch was completely unexpected and sent a jolt of electricity through me.
“I’ll go grab it while you wander around.”
Even though I was tall, I still had to crane my neck to meet his gaze. He was standing too close for comfort, and I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Yet, the warmth felt…unexpectedly nice.
I took an abrupt step back to get out of his hold. The burning sensation where he had touched me still lingered, but I ignored it the best I could. “I can go get my own coffee.”
“I know you can, but I want to do it. If it makes you feel better, I’ll even use your card.” He shot me a knowing look.
“Promise me you’ll use it,” I said sternly while pulling my wallet out and retrieving my credit card.
He extended his hand and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I promise, Jonesy.”
“Stupid-ass nickname,” I muttered as I handed it to him.
He smirked but didn’t say anything, only turned to walk away.
“Wait! I didn’t tell you what I want.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Iced macchiato with oat milk, right?”
I frowned. “How the hell do you know that?”
“Told you, it’s one of my talents,” he called back a bit louder since he was already far ahead.
I stood there, dumbfounded. This weird warmth settled in the center of my chest and spread across my body like liquid fire. But it was a good kind of feeling, one I didn’t want to let go of, but I still did. I had no business liking the fact that Anderson knew my coffee order by heart. We worked around each other a lot, and I was a creature of habit. It was an easy order to remember.
This particular store had a good home section, so I gripped the cart and strode through the aisles. The room had plenty ofwindows, and I was looking for the perfect small plant to keep at my bedside table.
A familiar laugh echoed from the next aisle, sending a chill down my spine. But I shook my head as I grabbed a small, pink blooming plant and placed it on my cart. Two sets of footsteps approached the aisle I was in, but I didn’t bother looking up. As I was taking another step, my cart collided with someone else’s and jerked me to a halt.
“I’m so sorry—” The rest of my sentence got lodged in my throat when two people came into focus.
“Kennedy?” The way my name rolled off his lips made my insides recoil.
