Page 49 of Play Along

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.

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