Page 131 of Play the Game

“You’re being awfully possessive,” she teases. “Of course I don’t need you to knock that woman down a few notches.” She can’t hide her smile, and I can’t stop staring at it. “You may need to knock me down a few notches, though.”

“Why?” I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her curled hair off to the side as we make our way to the exit. “The quick fuck wasn’t enough?”

She chokes on a gasp. I poke her side to make her laugh again.

I’m flirting with her, and I don’t even mean to.

“She…wants me to take photos for her company.”

I stop us right outside the event door. “Wait, what?”

Scottie nibbles on her lip, and I zero in on it. “Yeah, she said she saw our wedding photos.” She shrugs. “I posted a few more the other day because I just…really like them. I’m proud of them.”

Me too.

“Anyway, she owns a high-end boutique downtown, and she asked if I could take photos of some models in the dresses for her website and a few magazines.”

“Scottie.” Pride swallows me whole. “That’s…”

“Crazy. Right?” She throws her hands up in the air. “I am not some fancy photographer. My camera battery is such shit that it barely lasts twenty minutes. I don’t have the right equipment, and I’m…”

I finish the thought for her. “Fucking talented.”

Scottie stops babbling and stares at me with skepticism.

“Did you say yes?”

She chews on her lip again, and I quickly reach up to free it so she’ll snap out of it.

“Well, yeah.” She's talking so fast I can hardly understand her. “But I have to call her and tell her I can’t do it. I am not a professional photographer. I can’t?—”

“Why can’t you?” I grab onto her arms, and she presses her mouth shut.

She bounces her worried blue eyes between mine. “Because…” She glances elsewhere. “It’s not practical. It takes years to build a reputable clientele and to create a thick portfolio. It’s not financially stable for someone like me with responsibilities and...” She trails off, and I don’t understand.

“And what?” I ask.

I watch her shut down immediately. She shakes her head and begins to walk toward the door. If she thinks I’m letting this go, she doesn’t know me as well as I thought. It’s time she and I got everything out in the open. She’s my wife, and I want to know everything about her—even her fears.

I trail after her. “You do know we live together, right? Just because you walk away doesn’t mean the conversation ends.”

My teasing tone fades when I catch up to her. Her entire body tenses, and she takes a step backward. I watch the color on her face fade. “Scottie.” Her eyes drop to the sidewalk, and I do the same. Anger burns my skin with a clench of my jaw.

“Let go of my wife,” I demand, flexing my fist.

Scottie’s nostrils flare, and I hear her heaving breaths. She pulls on her hand, and the homeless man digs his dirty fingers into her wrist.

The only reason I haven’t plummeted him backward is because I don’t want to scare Scottie. Remembering what Scottie told me about her mom, I suspect there’s something buried here that I’m not exactly privy to.

“I’m going to ask you one more time to let go of my wife before I physically remove your hand.”

The homeless man grumbles under his breath. He finally lets go of Scottie, and she stumbles backward. I see Kane staring from the event doors, and he’s over to us before I can signal to him. He catches Scottie around the waist. She’s shaking like a leaf, and I could throw up at the sight. I turn around to threaten the man but stop when I see him muttering to a woman who is lying on her side on top of a cardboard box right behind him.

The realization of who she is crashes into me.

Shit.

I turn around and see that Kane has moved in front of Scottie. Malaki begins to walk over, and he takes one look at the situation before stepping in line with Kane. I don’t give her mother a second look as I head right for my wife.

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