Page 36 of Play Me

“Honestly? I never know what I’m doing, but it always works out.”

“I love that for me,” I say, not sure what I’m doing either, but here we are .

Brooks leads me through the small groups of people to the street. He slides an arm around my waist, careful not to grip me too tightly or make too much contact, and I nod at him in appreciation.

“So what do you do for a living?” I ask.

He scoffs. “Not a fight fan, huh?”

“When you look at me, do you see fight fan ? Do I give off that impression?”

“I’m not sure what impression you make. You’re quite an enigma.”

I snort-laugh. “An enigma? Really?”

“Yeah. If I had to put it into words, I’d say you’re a lady in the streets, although you’re currently wearing Gray’s high school rugby shirt, and possibly a freak in the sheets.”

He thinks I fit that vibe ? Whether he means that or not, I don’t know. His smirk makes me think he’s just screwing with me, but that doesn’t take away from the heat scorching my face as I try not to die in embarrassment.

“So you’re a fighter,” I say, firmly redirecting this conversation to more neutral territory. “My friend’s brother is a fighter.”

“Oh, really? What gym does he fight out of?”

I wince. “Boston?”

“That’s not a gym. It’s a city.”

“It’s the best I can do.”

Brooks opens his mouth, but before anything can come out, a set of large hands perch on his shoulders, and he’s yanked backward. He twists, raring back with a fist—ready to pound someone into the asphalt. Once he realizes it’s Gray, he drops his arm and bursts out laughing.

“You about met your maker, buddy,” Brooks says as Gray stands him upright. “And, no, you may not cut in.”

Gray wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his side. I gasp, going wide-eyed at the contact, but melting into him all the same.

Gray lifts a brow at Brooks. “It’s a good thing I didn’t fucking ask, then, isn’t it?”

My God.

Brooks smirks, walking backward and pointing at me. “You are very welcome. I take thank-you gifts in the form of gift cards and cash.”

“You are trouble!” I call after him, giggling.

Gray’s fingertips press into my side as he guides me in front of him. My skin sizzles beneath his touch, responding to him well before my brain can catch up. His gaze is rich and warm as he bites his lip to keep from smiling.

“Your friend is a character,” I say, trying to keep my words even as Gray connects his hands in the small of my back.

“Oh, he’s the main character in his own mind.” Gray grins. “What did that fool have to say, anyway?”

My palms skim his chest and over his shoulders, committing every layer of muscle to memory. “Nothing much. He was offended that I didn’t know who he was. Speaking of that, I saw you giving an autograph up there.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“I think his mom wanted a different kind of signature, if you know what I mean.”

He snorts. “That wasn’t his mom. His mom was my third-grade teacher. That woman runs the farmers’ market just outside of town.”

“She’s very … hands-on.”

“That’s what Brooks tells me,” Gray says.

“Oh really?”

He chuckles. “It’s obvious that you don’t know Brooks. Nothing is surprising about that guy. However, he’s fucked half … or more, of Sugar County.”

The band shifts gears, starting a popular nineties country ballad. More couples join us on the street. I notice many eyes, mostly women but some men, too, checking out Gray. But his? They’re solely on me.

I toy with the hairs on the back of his neck, enjoying the ease I feel in his arms. I’m aware that putting my guard down is probably a major mistake—lowering it has never not bitten me in the ass.

But the beer and possibly the town’s tranquil, unhurried vibe have chipped away at some of my restraint, and lowering the shield—if only for a moment—is incredible.

“So nothing’s surprising about Brooks,” I say. “Tell me something that would surprise me about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What are my parameters?”

The corner of his lips pulls to the sky. “Are you going to stay within them?”

“It depends on what they are,” I say, giggling.

He adjusts his hands, pulling me even closer to him. “What do you want to know?”

Gray has never been this open with me or this willing to talk. He’s never had me in his arms in the middle of a fair either, but that’s not the point. The point is that he’s trying to let me get to know him better—and I appreciate that. More than he’ll ever know.

I force a swallow, knowing that asking the one question I’ve wondered about a hundred times could shatter our newfound peace. But I do it, anyway. “Who was the woman in the picture in your apartment?”

He takes a deep breath, averting his eyes to something over my head. My heart pounds, wishing I could take the question back. I shouldn’t have asked it. It was the beer talking.

“I—”

“Caroline,” he says.

I cup the back of his neck with my palm. “Thank you for answering that.”

“She’s no longer in the picture, if you’re curious. No pun intended.”

“May I ask why not?”

He looks briefly at the sky and sighs. “I have this way of … that is, my life’s complicated.” He settles his gaze on me. His eyes are clear and unguarded, and it takes my breath away. “I make a lot of shitty choices sometimes, Astrid.”

“So Caroline is out of your life by your choice or hers?”

“Mine.”

The shirt I’m wearing bunches up in the back, and his fingers dust against the sensitive skin just above my ass as we turn in a half circle. Our gazes lock on contact, and he touches me again, slowly, seeking approval.

I hitch a breath. My body doesn’t ask, it demands to be touched by him again. I lace my fingers through the back of his hair, bringing our bodies so close that even a raindrop couldn’t come between us.

“What about you?” he asks, his voice rougher than before. “Is there a man out there who thinks he’s your guy?”

Does Caroline still believe she’s your girl? The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t ask it. It matters, but maybe not enough for this conversation. Or perhaps I’m scared to know the answer.

“I think the idea of being my guy would strike fear in most men’s hearts,” I joke.

His brows pinch together.

“No,” I say, hyperaware of the small designs he’s drawing on my back. My throat is as dry as a bone, so I swallow to wet it again. “There’s not been a man in the picture since Trace.”

“The guy the letter was over, right?”

I nod.

His eyes narrow, and he laughs softly. “How in the hell is that even possible?”

“What do you mean?”

He starts to speak but sighs instead.

The song comes to an end, and I expect him to let me go, but he doesn’t even loosen his grip on me in the slightest. Our dance fades into the next tune chosen by the band, and our gentle, lazy side-to-side sway never ceases.

“I’m going to say something,” Gray says. “And I hope it doesn’t … make things weird.”

I grin despite my heart palpitations.

“Astrid, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

What? My hands move to his chest to push away, but he stops me with the sweetest smile.

“You’re brilliant. Talented. Strong as hell.” He chuckles as if he’s remembering our disagreements. “How do you not have a line of men fighting for you?”

“Probably because I’d fight them back.” It’s a joke designed to segue the conversation elsewhere, but one look at Gray and I know that’s not going to happen. Resigned, I dangle my arms over his shoulders again. “I don’t have men fighting for me, as you say, because I don’t want one.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. But that’s a lie. I do know. Although I could leave it there, Gray was honest with me, so the least I can do is be honest with him, too. “I have trust issues. I guess that’s probably the crux of it. Every time I’m in a relationship, I have to defend myself.”

“Defend yourself from what?”

“Lies. Unreliability. For daring to breathe .”

I’ve never put this into words before, so getting it out in the open is so freeing. Sure, there’s a chance that Gray will feed this back to me at some point and make me feel small over it, but most men never share anything real with me, yet Gray has tonight. So maybe it’ll be okay.

“For the record,” he says, a tease in his tone. “I like it when you breathe.”

My shoulders sag, and I giggle. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Do you know what else?”

“What’s that?”

He pulls back and looks me in the eye. “That shirt you’re wearing? It has my last name on the back in big, bold letters.”

“I know.”

“And everyone here who sees us together with you wearing my shirt will think we’re together.”

Oh God. My cheeks flush. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about?—”

“I think that’s so sexy.” He bends forward, his breath hot against my skin. “I’ve never been prouder for a woman to wear my name.”

“Really?”

“Are you kidding me? Look at you. If you’re with me, I’m batting way outta my league.”

My knees wobble. I clutch his shoulders to steady myself, gasping a quick breath. Whatever’s happening is happening out of left field and at full throttle … and I desperately don’t want it to stop.

No one has ever said anything like that to me. I’m not sure that anyone aside from Audrey has said they were proud of me for anything. So for Gray Adler to say he’s proud to have me wear his shirt with his name in big, block letters on it in his hometown? That’s so, so wild.

His eyes sparkle as he peers into mine. “There’s only one part of today that I’ll always remember as a mistake.”

“Which one?”

“The moment I didn’t kiss you.”

I don’t know where the courage comes from, or if the years of Gianna’s stories have sunk in, but I find an ounce of bravery and use it.

“You could fix that, you know,” I say, sounding far more confident than I really am.

Because, on the inside, my brain is screaming that this is a bad idea.

You don’t do vulnerable, Astrid. There’s a reason you’re cautious.

Hell, you’re here because you were vulnerable with the wrong man—Trace.

But my body? It’s entirely on board. Gray has shown enough kindness and protectiveness today to sway it to the dark side.

I’m always so controlled, so particular that I don’t have fun, and consequently, I never truly enjoy myself. If I’m going to dive into the fun puddle, what better way than to do it here? With him?

Gianna will be so proud.

We stop swaying to the music, and every voice, body, and sound fades into the background. At this moment, only two people exist: Gray and me.

He releases me from his grasp. But, before any distance is put between us, he cups my cheeks with both palms and studies me with a soft intensity that makes me whimper.

A fire blazes in my core, spilling out and flooding my veins with piercing-hot flames. I lick my lips as my hands find his waist, and I feel his carved obliques. I could overthink this. I could find a million reasons to stop this in its tracks and walk away with my head held high.

But I don’t want to. I really don’t want to, and for once in my life, I’m just going to do what feels good. If it hurts later, hopefully the ecstasy was worth it.

His hardened cock presses against my stomach. I hold my breath, awaiting his next move. His grin is salacious, and I choke back a moan.

“Fuck it,” he whispers, dipping his lips to mine.

Yes!

I lift on my toes to meet him in the middle, when I’m bumped from the side. Oof .

“Sorry about that,” Brooks says, but I can tell he’s not sorry at all.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Gray says through gritted teeth. He takes my hand and laces our fingers together.

Blood pours past my eardrums as adrenaline washes through me. I’m too worked up to fully understand what just happened, but I’m annoyed enough to attempt to fight Brooks myself.

“Let’s go, Astrid,” Gray says, tugging my hand.

Brooks leans toward me as I’m being led away. “Steakhouses are good choices for the gift card.”

I roll my eyes and turn, trying to keep up with Gray.