Play Along(32)

I glance away anyway.

Well, I try to look away but then he stands, and I get to watch the way his powerful legs flex to get him up from crouching. Thick thighs from all the years of playing shortstop in that squatting position.

And boxer briefs tight enough to make it clear why this man is so popular.

That birthmark by his eye disappears behind a smile line when my attention finds his handsome face again. He wears a knowing grin while pulling on a different pair of pants, and I finally find the strength to look away and occupy myself by unpacking my things.

My planner first, because I need to finish filling out this month’s schedule. Then my laptop, knowing there’s a research article about muscle regeneration after injury that I’ve been dying to read. I also set my daily crossword from the Times on the nightstand to ensure I finish. Since discovering that hobby, I’ve yet to miss a day, but I didn’t quite finish today’s puzzle on the flight over. Those few things that will keep me plenty busy while Isaiah goes out with his friends.

Then I open my suitcase.

“Kenny,” Isaiah laughs from behind me, looking down into my luggage. “Are you a perfectionist and I had no idea?”

Perfectionist.

Type A.

Cold.

Just a few things I’ve been described as.

“You’re so cold, Kennedy,” Connor had said. “You’re the least affectionate woman I’ve ever been with. No man is ever going to want to be with someone who flinches every time they come near you.”

“Of course you’re a perfectionist.” Isaiah rests his chin on my shoulder. “Because you’re freaking perfect!”

“You’re annoying.” I shrug him off, taking my toiletries bag to the bathroom.

“I’m calling down for more blankets,” Isaiah calls out.

Emptying my toiletry case, I line each of my products on the counter in the order in which I’ll use them. It’s then I notice my missing toothbrush.

I peek my head out of the bathroom to find Isaiah on the phone. “Can you ask if they have an extra toothbrush? I forgot mine.”

“Okay, great,” he says into the receiver. “And do you have an extra toothbrush down there? My better half, she forgot hers.”

He shoots me a wink over the words better half.

“Oh. Okay, well do you have any for sale?” He nods. “You’re out. There’s a drugstore around the corner. Perfect. Will do. Thank you so much, Polly, and I hope you have a great night too. Don’t work too hard.”

Flirt.

He hangs up the phone. “They’re out of the free ones and their market doesn’t sell any. There’s a drugstore close by and I got directions.”

“From Polly?”

His lip twitches in a smirk. “Jealous.” Finding a nearby shirt, he slips it on, followed by his hat.

Backward, of course, because my body needed another reminder that it’s willing and able and very much not disgusted by my drunken choice of husband.

“Ready?” Isaiah slips the room key into his back pocket.

“Ready for what?”

“To go to the store.”

Confusion is written all over my face. “You’re going out with Travis and Cody.”

“I was only going with them because I didn’t have any other plans. But now I have plans, so let’s go.”

“A run to the drugstore doesn’t qualify as plans.”

“It does to me.” He holds the door open for me. “C’mon, Kenny, let’s go be domestic.”



Standing side by side, Isaiah and I stare at the wall of toothbrushes.

I don’t know why I’m not just grabbing one so we can go, but I’m kind of lost, utterly thrown off by the giant baseball player standing by my side who I’ve only known to be a ladies’ man. Who, instead of spending his night off with his friends, is shopping for dental hygiene products with me.

Finally, Isaiah reaches out to grab one.

“Here,” he says, passing it over to me. “Red. You like red, right?”

“This is orange.”

“Oh.” His cheeks tinge pink. “My bad.”

Taking it back, he hooks the toothbrush on the wall, before immediately tucking his hands into his pockets as if he were embarrassed.

He did this in Vegas, grabbing a pair of shoes he thought were red, but weren’t.

I don’t ask for an explanation, but still, he decides to give one.

“That color kind of looks like your hair and Trav once told me your hair was red. I know it’s not just red. It’s auburn. Kennedy Kay Auburn, in fact.”

Travis had to tell him my hair was red?

The mismatched clothes. Choosing the wrong colors. Having to ask what color my hair is.

“Isaiah, are you colorblind?”

His smile is sheepish as he rocks back on his heels. “Yeah.”

How did I not know or catch on to this before? Did I pass by this on his medical chart?

But it makes so much sense. His mis-paired socks. His uncoordinated outfits. A pang of guilt rattles through me for the shit I gave him for dressing like he didn’t care, when in reality, he just didn’t know when things didn’t go together.

“It’s not like everything is black and white,” he continues. “It’s called protanopia. I have trouble with reds. They’re all just green to me. At least, that’s what I’m told.”