The Long Game (Long Game, #1)

“Please,” I breathed out, my gaze locked on the button as she fumbled with it.

Neither of us made the attempt to leave.

“Oh,” Adalyn started, her voice distracted and the pad of her thumb toggling with the tiny thing, twisting it side to side. “Have you seen the uniforms, by the way? Taking care of the new ones is up on my priority list, but I don’t think they’ll be ready for the game this week.” A pause. Her thumb stopped. I felt my Adam’s apple bob. “Josie said we were covered for now, whatever that means, but something tells me we should check them before Saturday.”

Adalyn’s hand dropped to her side, leaving that one button crooked to one side. She inhaled deeply and her chest swayed again, testing the resistance of the slit. An unwarranted thought popped up in my head. What kind of underwear did a woman like Adalyn Reyes hide under such an adept and prim fa?ade? Did she wear lingerie or was her underwear just as proper and decorous as the outer shell?

My gaze dipped down, as if trying to discern the lines through all that thin and soft-looking fabric and getting a little lost on the dip of her curves. Breasts. Waist. I’d had my hands there, on that exact spot on her waist. I knew how soft—

“Cameron?”

I glanced up, returning my eyes to her face.

Jesus fuck.

What in God’s name?

“I haven’t seen the uniforms,” I told her. “We can ask Josie about them tomorrow.”

“But I just said—”

“I’d like to head home. Rest.” It was obvious I needed a fucking night of sleep to clear my head.

“If we must,” she said, starting to gather her things together. “Let’s continue this tomorrow. There’s so much on my to-do list that we haven’t even broached.”

Of course there was. “No wonder they shipped you off here,” I heard myself mutter under my breath.

Adalyn’s expression morphed at my words. There was a new emotion there now. One that made my goddamn stomach shift. She pressed everything she’d been holding in her arms against her chest with a jerky frustrated motion and turned her body to the side. Out of some strange and unexpected urge to explain myself I moved, too, pushing her to walk around me to climb down the stand.

I huffed at her, and she huffed at me right back.

“Adalyn—”

But Adalyn was intent on avoiding me and getting away from me as soon as possible. Thing was, those goddamn shoes of hers didn’t seem to aid in her quest, because one second, she was upright and the next, she was plummeting down.

Cursing under my breath, I lunged for her. Arms outstretched, I placed my body so I could intercept her now free fall. She crashed against my chest with a little yelp, and all I could do was secure her against me and say, “I got you.” I shifted my arms, my palms clasping her sides. “You’re okay.”

Adalyn murmured something in response, but I was too distracted by the wave of relief coursing through me to know what. Her scent was also sneaking into my lungs, the simple—but definitely not plain—way she smelled overpowering me. I’d only caught hints of it during yoga. But now it was all I could smell. It was clean, fresh, and so fucking sweet it felt like a blow to my face. Like cotton left in the sun in a lavender field.

Fuck. I was really losing it.

“I’m fine,” I heard her say more clearly. “I think you can let go of me.”

My throat worked, swallowing hard before I could release her. I stepped back, feeling my hands prickling when they fell to my sides. I flexed them. Then I met her gaze, finding the brown in her eyes dazed. Her cheeks flushed.

“Those fucking heels,” I said, hearing the harshness in my voice. Her brows wrinkled. “You’re going to break your bloody neck one of these goddamn days.”

Adalyn blinked a few times, then shook her head. The dazed look disappeared from her face. “Do you really need to talk like such a walking stereotype?” She lowered her voice in what had to be an attempt at imitating my tone. “Those bloody heels, mate. Bollocks, innit? I’m chuffed to bits! Fancy a cuppa?” A huff left her. “If you tell me you stop your day at five to have tea, and keep a tweed flat cap in a drawer somewhere, I swear I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind.”

I stared at her.

For a long time. Then, I barked out a laugh.

It was loud and boisterous, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t laughed like that in a long goddamn time.

Adalyn rolled her eyes. “You have that flat cap, don’t you?”

“I do,” I confirmed with a nod. “But I was raised with an Italian nonna, darling. So I’ll take a good espresso over a cup of tea any day of the week.”

“Not your darling.” Adalyn released a breath. “And I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You really have a caffeine addiction from what I’ve seen,” she added in a serious tone, but I could see the corners of her lips bending slightly upward.

I wondered how her smile looked. Her real one.

I made myself look somewhere else, my eyes landing on her chest. The button I’d been so preoccupied with moments earlier had come undone. And it allowed me a glimpse at the fabric of her bra.

It looked like satin. Lavender.

Christ.

My eyelids fluttered shut, out of pure survival. I even turned my body to face away. Searching for something else to look at and focusing on the first thing I found. The shed. Which still was in a state of complete disarray.

Exactly how I felt.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN



Adalyn


This was it. I was done. I really was.

I let the screwdriver I’d bought at Cheap Moe’s fall to the floor and absently wiped my hands on my legs, leaving twin trails of dirt on the fabric of my leggings. I looked at my tank top. Also filthy.

“Great,” I whispered. “This is just great.”

Not only did the parts of this monstrosity of a bed seem to be held together by some kind of super powerful dark magic, but now I was covered in dirt and sweat and I’d ruined the only casual items of clothing I had.

Grabbing my sandwich and fruit salad from the kitchenette’s counter, I tucked my phone under an arm, walked out to the sad and grisly porch that consisted of a single step, and plopped down. Something sharp pricked my ass, but I felt so helpless in that moment, so done, that I didn’t even bother moving. The leggings were dirty anyway. And it wasn’t like I could drop them in the washer because, turned out, there wasn’t one in the cottage, so whatever.

So whatever. I didn’t recognize myself.

With a sigh, I unwrapped my dinner and looked ahead as I chewed on the sandwich. I contemplated what was supposed to be the peaceful and beautiful expanse of nature before me, and saw this place for what it was. A few hills. A bunch of trees. An ugly cabin. A chip of rotten wood under my ass.

A gust of wind picked up, making me curl my legs closer to my chest. I took a new bite, recounting the winter clothes I’d packed: zero. I didn’t even own more than the one winter jacket that I hadn’t used in… years. Which was one of the things I loved about Miami.

I shook my head, deciding not to think about that. I’d make do with what I had. The nights and early mornings were growing cold the closer we got to October but it’d be fine. I’d have to be fine.

My phone pinged with a message, providing a welcome distraction, so I shifted my sandwich to my left hand and held the device up.


MATTHEW: Bad news.



Alarm surged in my belly as I typed my answer. I’d talked to Matthew on Sunday night, but besides providing him with a good laugh at the image of me, doing yoga—with goats, and without Cameron, who I still hadn’t mentioned to Matthew—there hadn’t been any developments on the #sparklesgate front.


ADALYN: It must be really bad if I’m not getting a goat gif.

MATTHEW: It kind of is.



A link followed that. I tapped on it with my thumb, and I was redirected to the site of an energy drink. I didn’t recognize the brand, so I scrolled down, wondering if he’d sent me the right thing.

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