Page 43 of Play Me

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

Astrid

I yawn, rolling from my stomach onto my back. Sunlight streams into the room, filling it with the promise of a new day. Birds chirp outside the window, and something pings in the distance.

Where the heck am I?

My eyes struggle to open. My brain takes even longer to process my whereabouts. Once it all comes together and forms an accurate picture of my location, I sink into the mattress and release a satisfied sigh.

Gray’s bedroom.

I stretch, and a delicious ache emanates from my groin. I’m naked, covered only by a navy blue blanket … except my breasts. The skin on my chest is marred by various light bruises from Gray’s mouth.

I shiver as memories from last night stream through my brain.

The truck. Gray’s face framed by my legs. His lips covered in my cum.

The length and thickness of his cock, and the salty bead sitting at the top waiting for me.

My knees throb, and I jerk the blanket away to see red marks from the hard ground. “Stay with me. Give me all of it.”

I can see his face as he utters the commands, a mixture of strength and tenderness that makes it hard to breathe even now.

I told him that I wanted him to take control—and it still blows my mind that I could verbalize my need to him, of all people.

But the way he handled it, as if he understood what I was really asking and delivered in such a thoughtful way, leaves me reeling.

What else is this complicated man capable of?

I fall back into the pillows and giggle. “Who knew I had a praise kink?”

Ping! Ping! Ping!

I stand, wobbling for a moment on my exhausted legs, and make my way to the window. Squinting, I focus on the bodies standing around a fence post—four of them, to be exact. As they come into focus, I bite back a moan.

Hartley stands between Jasper and Brooks as Gray pounds a tool against a stake.

Shirtless … in cowboy boots . Sweat coats his skin, and his muscles ripple in the light as if the sun’s whole purpose is to highlight the perfection of his body.

Movies are built around this scene, and I would be remiss not to capture it for posterity … and my personal use later.

I rustle through the blankets until I find my phone. Then I snap a picture and post it in the group chat.

Me: Yeehaw!

Gianna: And the gifts keep on giving.

Me: I’m not mad about it.

Audrey: I’m not seeing anything to be mad about.

Gianna: Saturday. I’m tired of Stupey’s, so how about Rhubarb at 7:00 p.m.?

Me: Sounds good. It’s my turn to pay. My raise hit my bank account on Friday, so here’s to having a bit of money (if Joe comes through for me).

Audrey: I can make it. Sending you and Joe all the good juju!

Gianna: Prepare a monologue, Astrid. I want EVERY detail.

Me:

I perform a quick check of my email, then succumb to my growling stomach. A glance out the window shows the guys still working hard. So I get dressed sans panties— where did they go? —and freshen up in the bathroom. My finger makes a decent toothbrush in the absence of the real thing.

I head to the kitchen, following the scent of bacon and coffee. I’m greeted by a robust woman in a red-and-white checkered apron with the makings of a pie crust in front of her. She smiles as if she’s been expecting me and asks if I’d like a cup of coffee.

“Yes, please,” I say, feeling slightly awkward.

“It’s a beautiful morning out there, isn’t it?” She offers me creamer, but I shake my head. “I’m Cathy, by the way. The boys said you were sleeping. I saved you some breakfast, if you’re hungry. Do you like bacon and eggs?”

She made me breakfast? “Who doesn’t like bacon and eggs?”

“Vegetarians.” She laughs, motioning toward the table. “Sit. Relax. I’ll fix you a plate. Do you prefer white or wheat toast?”

I take a seat, puzzled. What is happening here? Gray mentioned Cathy yesterday—I vaguely remember him saying her name. But why is she acting like my personal chef?

“You don’t have to do that,” I say, fidgeting in the chair. “I’m sure you have other things to do.”

She pauses, her hand stretched mid-air for a spatula. The grin she gives me is the warmest, sweetest thing that washes away any hesitation I have about letting her wait on me.

“Darlin’, my job is to do whatever the boys tell me to do,” she says. “And I was given strict instructions this morning to make sure you’re comfortable and fed. With no peanuts .”

Of course, Gray mentioned my allergy. Even when he’s not here, he manages to hold space for me. He was obviously thinking of me before I was awake today, considering my needs and comfort. What a wild concept.

What a complicated, enigmatic man.

I take a cup of coffee from Cathy and settle back in my seat, a little thrown off and struggling to regroup.

“The boys are fixing a fence this morning,” she says with her back to me. “Well, they’re supposed to be doing that. But Brooks and Jasper showed up a little while ago with some papers from town for Gray, so God knows what they’ll get done with those two heathens here.”

I chuckle. “I met them both yesterday. Jasper seemed pretty calm and rational. Brooks, though? He was … not.”

She snort-laughs. “You have them pegged already. Brooks Dempsey is more than a handful; I’ll tell you that for certain.

I’ve known that boy since he was knee-high, and he’s been a rascal since day one.

” She shakes her head, turning to me with a plate in her hand.

“He’s a good boy, though. They all are.” She places my breakfast in front of me.

“I gave you wheat toast since you didn’t specify. Let me know if you want jelly or jam.”

“Thank you, Cathy. This is very nice of you.”

“I hope you enjoy it,” she says warmly.

“It looks wonderful.”

Cathy goes back to her pie crust, leaving me alone with my bacon and thoughts.

I’ve not known Hartley for twenty-four hours, but I’m sitting in his home getting served breakfast by his house manager.

Under no circumstances should I find this comfortable or inviting, but I do.

Everything about this place—about the ranch, the people, and the town—feels natural to me.

I’m not sure what to make of it. Am I still in an orgasm high?

Will I go to bed tonight, relive this Sugar Creek experience, and cringe myself to sleep?

It's a solid possibility. But I might as well lean into it anyway. I’m already this far in.

“So Gray said that the two of you work together,” Cathy says, rolling out a round of dough.

My cheeks flush. “Yes. I’m his assistant—and I know how this must look, considering …” I stumble over my words. “You know, I just came out of his bedroom looking like this …”

I smile sheepishly at her.

“ Honey ,” she says, laughing. “Don’t look at me that way.

I might be old, and I might’ve helped raise that boy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see.

” She shakes her head, still amused. “He’s a good-looking little devil.

Charming as all get-out. This is a judgment-free zone because, heck, if I were your age and had the opportunity, I can’t say I wouldn’t be in your shoes. ”

I shrug, grinning at her reaction. “I appreciate your open-mindedness.”

“Of course. I’ve lived long enough to know that you must risk it for the biscuit sometimes.

You’ll never get much out of life if you don’t.

Trust me on that.” She scoffs, flopping her dough into a pie plate.

“I’ve been married and divorced three times—twice to the same man.

Lordy, I should’ve learned the first time, but my daddy always told me I had a hard head. Guess he was right.”

“At least you’ve lived your life. You’ve followed your heart.”

“Maybe a little too recklessly, at times.”

I take a bite of bacon.

“What about you, Miss Astrid? Do you follow your heart?”

“I thought this was breakfast, not an inquisition,” I joke.

She laughs. “Oh, I don’t mean to put you on the spot or anything. I’m just chatty. My mom didn’t name me Cathy for nothing.” She glances at me over her shoulder. “Chatty Cathy. Get it?”

“Yes, I get it.” I laugh, too. “And you’re not putting me on the spot. I’m just at a point in my life where I’m concerned that my heart is a broken compass, if that makes sense.”

“ Three divorces, Miss Astrid . Of course, that makes sense.” She pinches the edges of the crust quickly, creating the most beautiful crimps around the top of the pie plate.

“But here’s the thing. I’ve come to believe that your heart compass can’t be broken.

It keeps trying to lead you north. What messes you up is when you let your brain and hormones into the mix.

They can sabotage even the strongest of hearts. ”

I take a bite of eggs and then sit back with my coffee.

I watch Cathy fill the pie shell with an apple filling, letting my mind massage the lesson she shared with me.

She’s not wrong. It makes perfect sense that we’d naturally be led to our person because the universe has a way of pulling things together with some mystical, magnetic power that I don’t understand.

I see it all the time. Cottage cheese and peaches, assholes and politics, cats and laptops.

Take one look at a small child and a mud puddle, and the point is proven.

If her theory is correct and my heart compass works just fine, where would it lead me if I could take my brain and hormones out of it?

“What can you tell me about Gray?” I ask, placing my mug back on the table. “Do you have any insights you want to share with me?”

Cathy laughs. “How much time do you have?” She opens the oven and sets her pie on the middle rack.

“I think the biggest thing is to remember that he might look like some kind of Greek god, but he’s just a mortal being like the rest of us.

That kid has such a good heart in him—sometimes to his own detriment. ”

She grabs a towel from beside the sink and starts cleaning up her mess.