Page 21 of Play Your Part

I sneered at her. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

Gemma winked. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

“I’m wearing this,” I said defiantly. Though once the words were out, I felt childish.

Gemma paused in the doorway, her eyes roaming from my toes to the top of my head. “Suit yourself.”

I looked at my outfit again, then groaned. Of course I needed to look better than this to convince Matt of my interest in Alexei. That was theonlyreason I changed my clothes into something that demonstrated effort.

10

ALEXEI

Ithoughtaboutlastnight’s game as I walked over to Gemma and Matt’s place. It had only been a few days since I told Kennedy,Winning won’t be a problem.Part of that came from her putting my back against the wall, but I was also impressed with the players assembled during the offseason. Our team was better than I—and the rest of the hockey world—had thought. They had also gotten rid of the poison that was Justin Ward, who held this team back with his bullshit.

But we barely squeaked out a win last night against one of the worst teams in the league—in a preseason game and our first as this newly assembled team, but still. We looked shaky across the board—a couple leaky goals, some shit passes, and inconsistent puck control. And then there was an injury in the third period. Clark was hit hard while going for the puck in the o-zone and had to leave the ice, unable to put pressure on his right leg. We didn’t know how long he would be out of commission yet, but any time out of the lineup would hurt us.

Winning might be a problem.

I shook my head, trying to clear the thought as I knocked on the door. The overwhelming smell of baking cookies hit me as soon as Gemma opened it.

“Come on in,” she said, stepping aside to let me go through the foyer and into the kitchen.

Gemma and Matt’s house had the same layout as mine, but walking in felt like coming home. My house was quiet. Painstakingly quiet. Quiet had been my constant companion for months. Even before Cora and I broke up, our conversations had become stilted. Road trips illuminated a problem that was easy to ignore when we were both home, attending events and spending time with other people. When we removed everything else from the equation, we had very little to say to each other.

“Kennedy is in her room.”

“Her room?” I repeated. “Does shelivehere?”

Shit.I was not prepared to see Kennedy tonight. Topretendwith Kennedy tonight.

“Temporarily.” Gemma nodded down the hall. “Second door on the left.”

I glanced in that direction, weighing my next move. “Do you… want me to get her?”

Gemma sighed. “Seriously, Alexei. You two are hopeless. How are you going to convince anyone?”

“She told you?” Half relief, part fury filled me. One less person to convince, but I hoped Kennedy understood the importance of discretion.

Gemma opened the oven, peeking at the cookies. A delicious wave wafted my way, and I nearly groaned.

“Step up your game, Volk. Now, go get your girl.”

Kennedy opened the door to her room after one knock, as if she were about to exit. Her appearance surprised me enough, I took a small step back. For dinner at home, I expected her to be more casual. But her full face of makeup—dark eyes, pink cheeks, red lips—and curve-hugging emerald sweater dress signaled a night out.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

All sharp edges. As if she knew how to speak to me any other way.

“I didn’t expect—”

“That I would try to impress you?” She tried to finish my sentence, though my ending veered from her conclusion. “Yeah, well, don’t let the effort go to your head. We have a job to do.”

A job. Right. I swallowed every last word about how she looked and focused on the practical matters at hand. I held out my arm to her. “Shall we get to work then?”

She used a wrist to flip her brown hair over her right shoulder. “Why not?”

She hooked her arm around mine, but it only lasted until we hit the kitchen, where Kennedy spotted Gemma’s cookies sitting on the counter. She dropped my arm as if it were on fire and snatched two cookies from the plate. “Gem, please tell me you made buttercream icing?”

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