Page 25 of Play the Part (Marsford Bay #2)

CONNIE

I t’s Sunday evening at the McKennas. I arrived an hour ago and I’ve already had two—maybe three—large glasses of Burgundy. I’m hoping it chills me out and stops my gaze from constantly seeking Huxley’s presence even when I’m busy speaking with anybody else.

I’m so desperate for some distraction that I even let Charlie recount, beat by beat, the latest K-drama he’s been watching. At least with him, I just need to be half-listening and nod once or twice for him to be happy.

Thankfully, Huxley has spent most of his time in the kitchen helping Ozzy with dinner. Jamie and I have migrated to the dining room table, Jamie sitting across from me, catching up while we wait.

“Have you thought more about your bachelorette?” I ask her, taking a sip of my wine.

Jamie presses her lips together as if thinking, her finger circling the lip of her wine glass, nails painted chrome pink. The only ring on her fingers is her engagement ring. A silver ring with a simple row of three pearls.

I wouldn’t believe the story behind the pearls if it didn’t come directly from the source.

When Ozzy was still working at Orso, he found three pearls, one after the other, while shucking oysters. It’s extremely rare to find a pearl in an oyster, let alone three.

That’s the thing. Nothing is impossible when it comes to Ozzy and Jamie. Their love is so fated that Ozzy finding pearls in oysters feels normal —like just another sign from the universe proving that they are meant to be.

It’s sickening. And achingly beautiful.

“I don’t know …” she says, “Ozzy and I were maybe thinking of a joint party? Like maybe renting a cottage or something.”

“Oh, so you’re old and boring.”

Jamie bursts into a laugh, and I grin at my little jab.

“Why don’t we go somewhere?” I press, “My treat.”

Jamie waves her hands in front of her, shaking her head. “No, no, no, I don’t want you to pay, absolutely not.”

“Why not?” I say, a small whine in my tone. Resting my arm against the table, I press my chest against the edge as if trying to get closer to Jamie across from me. “Let me do this for you? As a wedding gift.”

Jamie continues to protest. “No way.” She tilts her head in that meaningful way of hers. “I don’t need anything big, I just want you there.”

Leaning back into my seat, I slowly shake my head, pretending to be disappointed in her, taking a sip of wine. “You’ve changed.”

Jamie snorts in her wine glass. “Bitch.”

We’re busy giggling like teenagers when Huxley appears holding a large bowl of paella.

His gaze finds mine, and his crooked grin makes my stomach flip.

While placing the steaming bowl in the middle of the table, Huxley calls for Charlie and Sophia to come sit. Ozzy follows from behind with two more dishes.

Everything smells incredible, as usual.

Expecting Sophia to sit beside me, my spine snaps straight when Huxley beats her to it and pulls out the chair beside me. Sophia gives me a knowing look that makes me want to shrivel up and die, and settles across from me beside Jamie.

“What are you doing?” I harshly whisper from the corner of my mouth.

Huxley’s smile widens as he looks at me. “Celebrating my sister’s birthday.”

He scoots his chair even closer, and I try to hide my full-body cringe. Just his good mood alone should be enough for his family to start getting suspicious.

“You never sit beside me.”

Thankfully, everyone is talking over each other, too busy passing around plates of food to overhear our exchange.

“Yeah, well,” Huxley says with a small pause, shoveling spoonfuls of paella onto his plate. “View’s better over here.”

I look away and sigh under my breath, hoping I can survive this without Jamie—or worse, Ozzy—picking up on our new dynamic.

“So the Remington is going good, I hear?” Ozzy asks.

He rakes a hand through his curls as he leans back into his chair, waiting for me to answer.

Dinner is winding down, plates cleared, dessert being eaten, and I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I even stopped drinking an hour ago, so I can promptly leave when the opportunity arises.

I smile and nod proudly. “Yeah, really good, we did our first read-through last week, so that was exciting. ”

“That’s great.” His smile widens. “And Hux isn’t giving you any trouble?”

Ozzy’s eyes crinkle, clearly just teasing.

As soon as Huxley’s name is out of his brother’s mouth, his hand lands on my thigh.

My shoulders straighten, and my heart rate triples.

What the fuck is he playing at?

My knee-jerk reaction is to shove his hand away, but the sudden movement would be much more obvious than whatever the hell Huxley is currently doing.

His palm is scalding against my thigh, only my tights separating me from him.

He squeezes once, then lets his hand relax, his index finger making lazy circles near my knee.

I stutter out a nervous laugh, answering some kind of pleasantry while all my attention is now on Huxley’s hand slowly moving up my thigh.

A deranged part of me is curious to see how far he’d try to push this, but thankfully, that part of me is small enough that I manage to squash any desire to be reckless.

Instead, I do the only thing that comes to mind and abruptly stand up.

Jamie looks up at me. “You’re leaving?”

Perfect, an out.

I give her a small pout. “Yeah, it’s getting late — big day tomorrow.” I look over to Ozzy and smile. “Thank you so much for dinner, it was amazing.”

“Can I bum a ride?” I hear Huxley say from his seat.

Slowly, I look down, widening my eyes at him, trying to convey my exasperation.

I try to protest as innocently as possible. “What about Soph? She drove you here.”

I glance over to Sophia, hoping for some backup. But the knowing smile on her lips tells me she’s not planning to do any such thing.

“I had one glass too many,” she says, “Apparently I’m a lightweight, so I’m just going to crash here.”

“Great,” Huxley says as he stands up. “I’ll grab our coats.”

I wait until we’re alone and Huxley has slammed the passenger door closed to snap.

“What the hell was that?”

I don’t wait for him to answer to start driving, pulling out of the driveway, indignation bubbling through my veins. Even with my eyes on the road, I still catch his smirk as he fastens his seatbelt.

“What was what?” he asks slowly.

“That little stunt you just pulled,” I hiss.

“Ah, that.” His tone is flat as if I’m boring him. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

My reaction is instantaneous. I start to laugh. It’s dry and cold, my knuckles turning white around the steering wheel.

“You know what?” I say, suddenly feeling a lot calmer than I’ve felt all night. “I’m too old for this shit.”

I make a hard right and park on the side of the deserted street, ignoring Huxley’s confused protest. I turn to face him, one arm over the steering wheel.

“Get out.”

I don’t know if I even mean it or if this is just a desperate attempt to take back control.

Huxley’s face is impassive as if he doesn’t believe the threat.

His posture is relaxed, his head lolled to the side against the headrest while he watches me.

His eyes rove over my face, seemingly busy thinking while staring at me.

His gaze on my face feels like he’s actually touching me, like a slow caress of his hand on my skin.

I burn up right along with the sudden shift in the air between us .

His voice is low when he speaks. “You know what I did after you sent me that picture?”

It’s dark, smooth, and delicious. I want to bathe in the sound. I swallow hard, my heart in my throat, as my lips part like they have a mind of their own.

I match his smoldering gaze, my expression just as serious as his. I shake my head only once, barely noticeable. But I know he sees it.

A smug grin sweeps over his face just as quickly as a deadly riptide, a small dimple appearing on his left cheek.

“Why don’t you use your imagination?” His tone hints at his condescension as he squints.

“And try to guess?” He tongues his cheek as if trying not to laugh and I feel his tease directly on my clit.

I’ve lost my voice, too wrapped up in witnessing Huxley like this.

“Maybe next time you show me more of yourself, I’ll send you a thank you back. ”

I pull his sweater over his head, and our lips crash together as I feverishly unbutton his jeans. I take my shirt off, and he pushes me against the bathroom door. His fingers dig into my heated skin. A desperate palm wraps firmly around my breast.

“Are you thinking about it?”

I snap back to reality.

“About what?” I croak.

His eyes are the darkest of greens. Neither of us has moved an inch since I parked the car; the only sound between us is the idling rumble of the engine.

Huxley stays silent for a long, tense beat.

When he speaks next, his tone has changed into something a little more desperate. “Why are you resisting this?”

There’s just enough angst hanging off his words to make me close my eyes and inhale deeply, the notes of vanilla and black pepper of his cologne making my head swim before my gaze lands back on Huxley.

“You shouldn’t want this,” I whisper, my voice cracking on the mouthful of desire I’m choking on.

“I’ve already had it,” he growls between his teeth.

Silence crackles between us as we stare at one another.

Finally, I sigh and settle back into my seat.

“We can’t.”

I pull back onto the street.