Page 34 of Play Me

CHAPTER

TWENTY

Astrid

“I’ll learn to play euchre, but I want to be on your team,” I say to Hartley.

“Fine by me,” Gray says, sitting back in the kitchen chair. Still shirtless. “I don’t want to be your partner anyway. You can’t even walk and talk without falling into a pile of rabbit shit.”

I gasp, but it quickly turns into a giggle. “How rude.”

Hartley winks at me.

“I’ll study up,” I say, standing up and taking my bowl to the sink on the other side of the room. “I’ll be the best damn euchre player Tennessee has ever seen.”

The brothers share stories from their childhood and how their pap would cheat at cards. I listen as I knock the crumbs from my party mix into the trash and then rinse the bowl before putting it in the dishwasher.

Hartley’s kitchen is as cute as a button.

The decor is stuck in the nineties with ducks in sun hats with dusty blue bows around their necks on the wall border.

The cabinets have a distinct orange hue.

Blue-and-white checkered curtains hang on either side of the window overlooking the sink, and containers labeled sugar, flour, and coffee are displayed beneath the microwave. It’s oddly charming.

I ensure the lid is fastened to the plastic ice cream container that housed the party mix before returning to the table.

“We probably should be going,” Gray says as I reach my chair. “Are you about ready?”

“Yeah. Sure. Can I get my shirt out of the dryer?”

“If you want to take them with you, then you better,” Gray says.

I roll my eyes at him and head to the laundry room.

We inadvertently spent the whole afternoon and evening with Hartley. Hart took us on another ride in the side-by-side to look at different fields. We stopped to check on the goats, which was my favorite part of the day aside from witnessing this version of Gray—a relaxed, happy Gray.

More than once today, I’ve thought about the picture that I saw at his apartment. This must be the man that woman loved. I can easily see Gray making her laugh like she was in the image, tossing a ball back and forth on the beach, and earning the look of adoration that was so heavy in her eyes.

My stomach squeezes as I shove it out of my mind again.

“You have to be kidding me,” I say, pulling my damp shirt out of the dryer. “How can it not be dry? It was in there for two cycles.”

I shouldn’t have washed it and my bra in the sink, but I didn’t have a choice. Now I don’t really have a choice—I’ll have to wear Gray’s shirt home. Thankfully, my bra is dry enough to wear, so I put it on beneath the shirt.

The feeling of Gray’s fabric against my skin sends a small thrill through my body.

I lift the neckline for the hundredth time and breathe in the scent of his cologne mixed with laundry soap.

It feels forbidden to have something of his touch me like this, and it also gives big red flags that I like it. God, I like it . And I wish I didn’t.

Every time our eyes have met, I’ve wondered what he thinks about me wearing his shirt. Does he like the idea of it? Does he hate it? Does he not have any feelings about it whatsoever?

I sag against the dryer when my phone buzzes.

Gianna: Still doing okay, babe?

Me: Yup.

Audrey: Are you home yet? Need us to come over?

I frown in anticipation of their reaction.

Me: I’m still in Sugar Creek.

Audrey: Still?

Gianna:

Audrey:

I snort.

Me: We’re at his brother’s house and are heading home now. Settle down.

Gianna: This is what I’ve been working on today …

A picture of a urinal fashioned into what I think is a bird bath fills the screen. I narrow my eyes, taking it in from every angle. I’m not sure how to respond to this, so I wait for Audrey to take the lead.

Audrey: So creative!

Me: Just what I was thinking.

Gianna: It’s a fountain, but I don’t have the water flowing correctly yet. Anyway, see my vision now?

Me: Totally.

Audrey: Absolutely.

My fingers hover over the keyboard when the sound of a male’s voice that I don’t know cracks through the house. Who is that?

Me: Gotta go. Xo

I shove my phone in my pocket and tiptoe into the living room.

Oh . A man who’s a little taller than Gray, with light hair and a shit-eating smile stands next to Hartley. His face is washed in mischief. He screams trouble in a way that would make Gianna very, very happy.

I lift my chin, clear my throat, and then enter the room with a confidence I don’t quite feel.

Gray’s brows pull together. “Still not dry?”

I hold my shirt in front of me. “Nope. You really need to get your dryer repaired, Hartley.”

“Cathy’s been saying that,” he says, sighing. “I?—”

“Well, excuse the hell outta me,” the other man says, his sights set on me. “But I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Brooks Dempsey, and who might you be?”

Gray elbows him in the ribs. “Brooks, this is my assistant, Astrid. Astrid, meet my friend Brooks.”

“Astrid, it’s nice to meet you,” Brooks says.

I steal a look at Gray, who’s watching me closely. I’m not sure what to make of it, but if he’s wondering where my loyalties lie, I’ll make it clear. “Well, Brooks, I don’t know if it’s nice to meet you yet or not. But hello, regardless.”

“Ah, hell,” he says, making everyone laugh.

“We were just heading out,” Gray says. “We?—”

“The hell you are.” Brooks looks offended. “It’s Sugar Days, brother. You gotta stay.”

Gray’s face falls. “Nah, man, we can’t. Astrid rode with me, and I told her this would just be an afternoon thing.”

“I can call an Uber back to Nashville,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Riding in a car with a stranger for the next hour and a half sounds like absolute misery, but it’s better than robbing Gray of a fun night with his friend.

“Why?” Brooks asks. “You’re coming with us.”

My shoulders sink as I turn frantically to Gray. “Don’t worry. I’ll call a car.” I take my phone out of my pocket and step a few paces toward the laundry room, but Gray’s voice stops me in my tracks.

“Wait.” His hands are shoved in his pockets with no attention paid to the others in the room. Just me. “If you go back tonight, I’m taking you. There’s zero chance you’re getting in the car with a random person.”

Something flutters deep inside me next to my heart. The ache in my chest is soft and gentle, unlike the painful pulls I’m used to. The fact that he would go out of his way, prioritizing me above his friend and his family, knocks the wind right out of me. Who does that?

His smile, dimples deep in his cheeks, is just for me.

“Or you could stay and have fun tonight,” Brooks says. “I’ll be your personal Sugar Creek tour guide.”

“The hell you will.” Gray shoots him a look over his shoulder. “You mind your own damn business.”

Brooks and Hartley exchange a grin.

My mouth is dry as I try to read the room. I can’t decide whether I’m really wanted here or not. They’re probably just tolerating me—Gray does seem to have manners here, after all. The last thing I want to be is an inconvenience.

“I could just hang out here,” I offer. “I don’t want to put anyone out.”

Gray lifts a brow. “Aren’t you the one who told me you needed A. Fucking. Break?”

“I didn’t mean in this context,” I say, laughing.

“Stay,” Hartley urges. “It’ll be fun.”

“Don’t say that,” Gray says. “She definitely won’t stay if she thinks she’ll have fun.”

I mock him. “Shut up.”

“I’ll buy you a funnel cake,” Hartley offers.

“Fine. I’ll dance with you at the bandstand,” Brooks says, grimacing. “You’ll endure many glares from the other women salivating for their chance with me. That’s on you.”

Gray licks his lips. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

All three men watch me with careful anticipation, waiting for my response. I shift from foot to foot, still uncertain how I should proceed. This is something I’ve never done and, if Gianna would do this, I’d tell her she was asking for trouble.

Going with three men I just met to a festival at night in a place I don’t know? These types of situations are how podcasters make a living.

But standing in this room with Gray, Hartley, and Brooks, I don’t feel fearful. I don’t doubt their intentions for a second. I don’t sense danger. As a matter of fact, I haven’t once gotten an indication that something was amiss with any of them.

Dare I say that I feel … safe?

I shrug. “We don’t have shirts.”

“Your closet is full of stuff,” Hartley says to Gray. “You’d probably be able to scrounge something up for the two of you.”

Gray lifts a brow at me.

The thought of going home feels like a wet blanket being thrown on top of me. It’s heavy, and lonely, and suffocating. Besides, if I stay, I’ll have a story to tell my friends, for once. And Gianna will die.

“Okay,” I say. “If you want to go, Gray, let’s go.”

“Atta girl.” Brooks claps his hands like he’s cheering on a sports play. “The Fish Fry stops in about an hour, and I’ve waited all week for that. Can we put this into high gear?”

Gray bends his finger at me. “Come on.”

My chest feels like someone’s holding a sparkler too close to me, and bits of hot ash are pinging my skin. I can barely think a cohesive thought. A part of me cheers my bold, brave decision, and the other part of me laments my recklessness. It’s hell to be me.

Gray opens a door and pops on the light. “After you.”

I pass him, careful not to touch him, and take in what must be his old bedroom. Posters on the walls. Trophies on shelves. A stack of books by the bed.

“This room gives Gray vibes,” I say, sitting on the edge of the mattress while he rummages in the closet. “And it looks like you really did read books.”

“Did you think I was lying?”

“Eh, kind of.”

He slides some hangers to the side. “Gee, thanks. I’m more than a handsome face, you know.”

His back muscles ripple as he moves. They’re thick and dense, with ridges and lines that I didn’t know existed in the real world. The taper from his shoulders to his waist is ridiculous.

“Yeah, I know,” I say, blushing. “Thanks for bringing me here, by the way. Not just here , but to Sugar Creek and to see Joe. You’ve gone out of your way to be kind to me today, and I appreciate that.”

He stills but doesn’t turn around. “You make it sound like that surprises you.”

“Well, in my experience, if people do choose kindness, there are usually limitations. It’s human nature, I guess.” I laugh nervously. “I’ve made this weird, haven’t I?”

Gray pulls two shirts out of the closet and turns to me with them in his hand.

In the dim light from the ceiling fan, he looks mysterious.

Shadows hide the sharpness of his features and exaggerate the ridges and valleys of his body.

He’s the kind of guy who people stop and stare at.

I can’t help but wonder what our relationship could’ve been like had we not gotten off on the wrong foot.

My breath hitches as he comes closer with a twinkle in his eye.

“Have you had fun?” he asks, his voice low and controlled.

“Honestly? Yeah. I have.”

“Good. Me, too.”

“Bet you didn’t think I had fun in me, did you?” I grin and get to my feet.

He stops just inches in front of me, close enough where I could easily reach out and touch him—something my fingers itch to do.

I can hear my heart pounding and feel the rush of hot blood circulating through my veins. The intensity and warmth of his gaze draws me in, and suddenly, I’m not sure where this is going.

This is Gray Adler, my coworker. The giver of migraines. The man I … loathe . But, at this moment, he’s something else, too, and I’m afraid to put a name to it.

His dimples shine. “Believe it or not, I did think you had it in you.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

The room shrinks and the temperature rises so high that I’m sweating. Everything around us blurs into oblivion. It’s only Gray and me here.

My heart flutters as he offers me one of the shirts, and I reach for it, tentatively at first. But when my knuckles graze his, I melt into the contact.

The backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed, and if I rock even a bit, I’ll fall onto my back. I’m held up by a prayer and Gray’s dark, hooded eyes.

“If you didn’t hate me, I might kiss you right now,” he whispers.

He’s close enough to feel the heat of his breath. I pant, working hard to remember how to perform basic bodily functions.

I lift my chin, my inhale shaky. “If you didn’t hate me, I might let you.”

His grin sears its way right through me, melting me into a puddle at his feet. He searches my face as if he’s wondering if I’m just playing with him or if I mean it. I give him the slightest nod.

Slowly, he lowers his lips to mine.

I can nearly taste the sweet anticipation hanging in the air between us. Goose bumps break out across my heated skin, and I feel both vulnerable and acutely aware of it. But, instead of being freaked out and desperate to run, the only place I want to go is in his arms.

I part my lips, my eyes fluttering closed. He’s so close.

“Hurry the fuck up in there!” Brooks shouts from the other room.

I gasp, filling my lungs with the oxygen I’ve been depriving them. I’m stunned … by all of it. I almost kissed Gray Adler.

His lips form a thin, tight line as he shrugs on a shirt. The vein in his temple throbs as he tosses me one of my own. “I’ll wait out here.”

“O-kay,” I say, watching him walk out of the room.

I sit on the bed again and bury my head in my hands.

What the hell just happened here?