Page 43 of Play Your Part

She crossed her arms over her chest as her cheeks turned a bit pink. “I’m not worried about that.”

“Is there another reason you’re hovering on the edge of the bed then?”

“I’m not.” She made a show of looking over and discovering she might fall off the bed with the slightest movement. She shifted toward me, still leaving significant space between us. “I didn’t realize.”

I nodded, pretending to agree, but only because if I pushed more, the tenuous peace between us might snap. Pushing Kennedy’s back against the wall had backfired more than once. Doing it figuratively or literally—something I couldn’t stop thinking about now that I had her in my room—would send us back to each other’s throats.

I grabbed a strand of her hair. “I like the new color. Even if it isn’t one of ours.” She’d dyed it darker than her natural brown and added blue, which changed shades as her hair moved in the light. Not everyone could pull off a color this bold, but it suited her fair skin so well, she might as well have been born with it. “Something you’ve wanted to do for a while or spur of the moment?”

Her gaze remained on my hand holding a lock of her hair. “It was time for change.” She definitely didn’t remember what she said in the backyard at the season-opening party then.

I released the strand of hair. “So what would you be doing if the wunderkind hadn't texted you?”

She blinked. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“What? Briggsy texting you?”

I knew that Briggsy contacting her saved my house and our new rookie from burning up in a grease fire. Like most people who travel, I had installed cameras. When I got home from a massage appointment and found my house smelling like smoke and my pan burnt to an unrecognizable crisp and buried under trash, I watched the security footage. On it, Zach left bacon cooking on the stovetop unattended, only coming back when the smoke alarm sounded and flames were sky high.

“No. That Zach is getting all this attention,” she clarified.

I leaned back against the headboard, tilting my head her way and studying her expression. “Oh, you’re serious? No, I don’t give a shit. I had the attention before, and it’s nice, but I’ve been on the opposite side of it. I’d rather stay clear.”

“Except now you can’t.”

“No, not exactly.”

“You blame me for that?” Kennedy fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

At one point, I might have blamed Kennedy, but that was because she was here and the real culprit wasn’t. Besides, she’d fallen victim to Hurricane Ward as much as I had. It didn’t seem fair to hold anything against her, even if it did keep my other feelings about her at bay. More than anything, though, I could tell she needed someone to be on her side.

“No, I blame your asshole ex.”

Kennedy nodded once, then fell back against the headboard as well. “If I were home, I’d be watching TV.”

“True crime?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Yeah. How did you—” Kennedy stopped abruptly, a slow smile appearing on her face before she covered it with one of her hands. I learned about her true crime obsession that first night at Gemma and Matt’s. The night my attraction to her became clear… to both of us. It wasn’t as if finding Kennedy beautiful was new, but wanting her was something I hadn’t let myself feel until she forced it on me when she landed in my lap.

“Pitch it to me.”

“What?”

“Your best true crime story. We have to do something.” I gestured around the room. What I would prefer to do was off the table.“Whoever pitches best, wins.”

“And who will be the judge? It’s just us here.”

Trust me, I thought,I don’t need that reminder.

“I think we can be adults about it and come to an agreement.”

She batted her eyelashes at me. “And what will you be pitching me on? Backward baseball caps? The value of public insinuations about our relationship?”

“You’re still harping on that?” I teased with a smirk.

She made a show of huffing loudly, but I could tell it was in good fun rather than actual annoyance.

“I’m going to pitch you hockey.”

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