Play Along(31)

Reese and Glen share a laugh.

Glad someone finds this funny.

My cheeks hurt from the fake smile. “That’s probably true. Well, I’m so happy this worked out for everyone.”

“Me too.” Glen gestures to the front desk. “There weren’t any more rooms available once I found out Reese was going to be traveling this year.”

Of course there weren’t.

Isaiah’s grin is knowing and annoying as I cross the lobby to meet him once again. He holds up the key card, twirling it between his fingers before I snatch it from him.

“You’re not cute when you’re gloating.”

“Only cute the rest of the time. Got it.”

He happily takes my suitcase from me, wheeling both of ours and leading the way to the elevator. And he doesn’t even glance back to me when he says, “Nice shoes, by the way. Great taste, whoever picked them out.”

My cheeks warm when I look down at my platform Vans, more commonly referred to as my wedding shoes—the ones he picked out.

“Gloating.”

His head falls back with a laugh, his Adam’s apple distracting and prominent along with his contagious joy.

How very inconvenient that my temporary husband has to be so attractive.



There’s only one bed.

Of course there’s only one bed.

There’s usually only one person to a room, so there’s no need for a second bed.

There’s no couch in here, only an uncomfortable-looking chair nestled in the corner.

I can’t share a bed.

Sharing a bed seems intimate. It never was with Connor, but it seems like under normal circumstances, it would be.

There’s a big part of me that wants to protest. To throw out some snarky remark to make Isaiah think I can’t stand him instead of revealing that this makes me feel vulnerable, possibly even uncomfortable.

But we’re in this situation because of me, so I suck it up.

“Which side do you prefer?”

When I look over my shoulder for his answer, I find him already watching me intently. “I’ll take the floor.”

“Isaiah—”

“I don’t mind.”

“You have a game tomorrow. You can’t sleep on the floor. It’s my literal job to make sure your body is ready to play.”

That timely smirk is back. “Oh, baby, trust me. My body is ready to play.”

“Isaiah.” My voice tries to come out stern, but there’s a smile attempting to break through. “Shut up.”

He smiles at my smile, as if he knew I was in my head while looking at that bed and needed to lighten up.

“I’ll take the floor,” I decide.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor. I’m good, Kenny.” Stealing a pillow off the bed, he drops it on the three feet of floor space between the mattress and the wall.

“We could call for a cot.”

“You think we should get a rollaway bed delivered to our room while the entire team is staying on this floor? And risk the staff or Reese seeing it and believing we’re having marital problems? No thanks, I’m good.”

“Who cares if they think we’re having marital problems? Maybe that will help sell it in a handful of months when we separate.”

His smile dims slightly. “We’ve got plenty of time before we need to start selling that storyline.”

Isaiah’s phone dings in his pocket. Pulling it out, he reads it before saying, “Trav and Cody want me to go grab a beer with them.”

“Okay. Have fun.”

“I’m not sure if I’m going to go.”

“Why wouldn’t you go? It’s better than being stuck in this tiny hotel room.”

“I guess so,” he says. “I don’t have any other plans, right?”

He’s looking at me as if asking me to tell him to stay here or give him plans for the night.

I don’t.

With that decision made, he uses a single hand to reach over his back, and in one swift movement, removes his shirt. He drops his hat on the nightstand and removes his shoes.

“What are you doing?” I ask in disbelief.

“I’m changing. If I’m going out, I’m not going to wear my airplane clothes.”

“There’s a bathroom right there.”

He looks at it, then me, holding eye contact as he undoes his belt. “So there is.”

“Isaiah.”

“Yes?”

His pants hit the ground, and I don’t have anything left to say.

Yes, I’ve seen his body, but from a medical standpoint. I’ve never looked or touched for any reason other than science.

But I’m looking now, and it most definitely isn’t for science.

Isaiah crouches, rifling through his suitcase while only wearing a pair of boxer briefs.

He’s strong and sculpted. I know this, but I’ve never noticed this.

His back is long and defined, muscles moving in a mesmerizing pattern as he rummages through his things. His suitcase is pure chaos, but I’m not paying much notice, especially when he runs a hand through his unruly hair to get it out of his face and the veins in his forearm decide to make their presence known.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before, Doc.” Isaiah doesn’t even have to look back at me to know I’m staring.