Page 62 of Power Switch

“Without a shirt,” Taeler asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“It's how I sleep,” Sam responds, not breaking the sudden stare-off the two started.

“We're fine, just goofing around. You can leave now.”

“Taeler,” I chastise with a grimace. “Stop being so damn rude.”

Sam holds up both hands in surrender. “Don't worry about it, Randi. I'm leaving. Glad it was nothing.” Halfway out the door, he pauses and turns. His piercing green eyes dart from me to Taeler and back again. “Let's talk in the morning, Randi, go over strategy.”

“Strategy. Yeah, right,” Taeler says under her breath. With a dismissive wave, she snuggles back into the covers, her back to me.

“Okay, yeah,” I say more like a whisper, focusing on Taeler’s back. “Kyle wants to meet with me at some point too, so best we meet before that.”

“Night.”

I mutter a similar goodbye, still staring at Taeler. After the door clicks closed behind the retreating agent, I give her shoulder a hard shove to gain her attention.

“What was that about?” I hiss.

The bed doesn't jolt, doesn't wiggle as she stays facing the wall. “I've chosen my side.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” The entire bedframe shakes as I flop onto my back and begin to massage my temples.

“It means I'm Team Trouble.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. That man wants you, Mom.” Finally the bed shifts under her weight as she rolls to face me. “What guy walks into a woman’s room looking like that if he didn't?” I open my mouth to defend him when she holds up a hand, stopping me. “Now I'm going to bed.”

“Team Trouble,” I grumble over the rustling of the sheets and quilts as I snuggle deeper. The thick duvet between my curled fingers, I draw it up close to my chin and stare at the slightly outdated wallpaper. “There are no teams,” I whisper against the soft fabric.

“Oh, there are teams, Mom.”How the hell did she hear that?“And if you haven't chosen a side, then shit's about to get real messy.”

“Language,” I hiss over my shoulder. “And it's not like that.”

“Okay,” she replies, her tone letting me know she clearly thinks I'm an idiot.

“It's not. It's business, not personal.”

“Sometimes I worry about you,” she says with an annoyed sigh. “Good night, Mom.”

I pat her tiny heinie under the mountain of covers and close my eyes ready to beg sleep to come.

As the long “to do” list, “not to do” list, and “holy hell, why haven't you done this yet” list flip through my overactive mind I can't help but wonder if Taeler is right.

If I had to choose right here, right now, whose team would I be on?

It's the easiest answer I've ever had to give.

Trey. One hundred percent Trey.

So if that's my answer, then why aren't I with him? Why am I letting this stupid fake game with Kyle ruin the one good part of my overworked life?

Or did I leave one “team” out of the equation?

Maybe I'm not Team Trouble or Team Sam.

Maybe I'm Team Randi.

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