Page 64 of Forbidden Game

I lean a hip against my sink as my hand comes up to touch my lips.

They’re red and puffy. One might just chalk it up to the cherry-tinted gloss I wear, but I smile in the secret confines of my apartment at the knowledge of the boy who made them this way.

THIRTEEN

SYDNEY

My eyes flit over my laptop, cataloging the schedule the guys have set for the week.

Most people would think that working as a streamer would be an easy gig, but there’s a lot that goes into it. Each guy doesn’t just stream.

Parker’s schedule is the most hectic right now because of the upcoming championship and the fact that he has Covington obligations outside of his stream schedule.

My core zings at the thought of Parker.

His shiny blue eyes and boyish smile.

A smile with plush, kissable lips.

Lips that I can’t stop thinking about.

A knock sounds at my door, and I hop off the stool at my kitchen counter. My slippers slap softly on the tiles as I make way to the door and stand on my toes to peer through the peephole. One of the doormen stands outside.

I undo the deadbolt and give him a bright smile.

“Hi, Jericho.”

“Hi, Miss Sydney.” He holds out two small parcels. “Delivery came for you; one of them is perishable.”

Odd. I haven’t placed any recent orders.

“Thanks.”

“Of course, have a good day.”

“You, too.”

I take them, and he gives me a nod before turning on his wingtips. I knock the door shut with a pop of my hip before dumping them on the marble counter.

Curiosity bubbles under my skin as I break the smaller of the two packages open. The brown packaging reveals a Styrofoam box, and I smile, realizing what perishable item it must be.

I pop the lid off the box and squeal at the goods within. An assortment of handmade soaps, lotions, and candles greets me. I bypass them, my fingers closing on the handwritten note scrawled on a piece of torn graph paper. Dad’s kind words stare back at me, and warmth floods my veins.

Hey, Bug.

Mrs. Feeney got ahead this season and made her first batch early. Thought it would be a nice surprise to send them over.

Don’t work too hard.

Miss you and love you,

Dad

I pull my phone out and dial his number, putting it on speaker as I rifle through the treasures before me.

Mrs. Feeney lives at the end of our cul-de-sac, and she is known around town for the amazing goods she makes. Candles, soaps, lotions, you name it. She has a set line that she makes year-round, but every season she brings out specialties. With fall upon us, it means it is time for her annual pumpkin spice and caramel apple scents.

I crack open one of the candles and melt at the sweet pumpkin scent mixing with spicy cinnamon. I move onto one of the body scrubs and twist off the top to whiff at the sugary caramel smell. The woman is a flavor witch.

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