Play Along (Windy City Series Book 4)

I woke up with a giant 6’4” man sprawled on top of me. His legs were between mine, his torso pinning me to the mattress. His head was tucked into the crook of my neck, and his arm was wrapped under my back.

I was a human pillow for Isaiah Rhodes, and I’ve never slept better.

When I went to use his shower this morning, I came out to a copy of today’s Times with the crossword puzzle pulled out and already folded for me. It was accompanied by a coffee and a couple of toasted Eggos.

He almost lost his shit when I told him I had never had an Eggo before, but even more so when I mentioned I wasn’t sure if I had time to eat before work.

My childhood home had a live-in chef, so fun, frozen food was never an option. And neither was skipping breakfast today. Isaiah has an odd affixation with feeding me and I think it might be my newly unlocked love language. Because it does things to me every time.

And now, here I am in his car on the way to the airport, leaving what I think might be what I’ve always been looking for.

Before batting practice, we went to my apartment so I could pack and change into clothes that weren’t his, and once again, I left my car at the field and opted to ride passenger with him. But he’s been silent most of the ride, entirely in his own head.

We haven’t kissed today. We haven’t touched. It’s clear that neither of us knows where we stand in the light of day, and it didn’t help that once we left his apartment, we were at the field all morning for Sunday batting practice, unable to really talk about things before leaving for my interview.

“You have everything you need?” Isaiah finally asks.

One strong hand on the wheel, sporting that backwards baseball hat that has me imagining all sorts of things I’d like him to do to me while wearing it.

“It’s only a couple of days,” I remind him.

He keeps his eyes on the road. “A couple of days could change a lot.”

“Or I might not get the job at all.”

And I shouldn’t be entertaining that option. This is everything I’ve wanted. A position I’ve dreamed of. A city I would love to live in.

He shoots me a quick, deadpanned glare before refocusing on the road ahead of him. “You’ve got this, Kenny.” His tone is full of encouragement, as if that’s what he thinks I’m looking for. “In case you don’t already know this, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

My throat instantly feels thick. Impossible to swallow.

No one has ever said that to me before. I got a high score on my MCATs and my mother asked me when I was setting a wedding date. I thought I got the position I wanted in Chicago and Connor asked how many times a year he was expected to visit.

My voice is embarrassingly small. “You are?”

“Hell yeah. Even when I didn’t know you, that first day I heard you with Dr. Fredrick, I was so impressed by you. I don’t have to tell you how few women there are in professional sports, and you’re doing it, Kennedy. In case you haven’t figured it out yet . . .” He laughs to himself. “. . . I’m kind of a huge fan of yours.”

Isaiah pulls his car up to the curb outside of terminal two, setting it in park. Finally, he undoes his seat belt and fully turns to face me.

“Go in, show off that big brain of yours, and be yourself. There’s no way they’re not going to love you the way that I l—” He stops himself.

My eyes go wide and his mirror them.

“Llllive, laugh, love you,” he finishes. “The way I live, laugh, love you.”

He says it so confidently the second time, but it still makes no fucking sense. Regardless, I can’t help but burst a laugh.

“You live, laugh, love me?”

“God, so fucking much.”

The car fills with our mutual laughter, and there’s a part of me that wants to stay here all day, in this bubble of just him and me. Not thinking about my career I’ve worked hard for, not dwelling on the fact that this marriage is fake, and not worrying that regardless of anything different I might be feeling, next season I won’t be working for the Warriors.

Because those are the facts. Whether or not I get this job, my time in Chicago is done. Isaiah agreed to fix our drunken mistake for the span of one baseball season. Not for eternity.

“Are you going to do your crossword on the plane?”

“That’s my plan.”

“You know, I’ve always wondered, but never asked. Why do you do those every day?”

I shrug. “When I was younger, I didn’t get a lot of attention from my parents. I was an only child, and I was bored out of my mind most days. But my father, he’d get the Times delivered each morning to read the business section, so I started stealing the crossword to keep myself busy. Felt less lonely when my mind was occupied, you know?”

Isaiah’s brows crease as if he hates that answer. “And you still feel that way? You do them because you’re lonely?”

“I suppose so.” I huff a dry laugh. “But I guess it says something that I haven’t finished one in weeks, huh?”

His smile turns proud.

There’s a knock on my window that startles us both.

“Keep it moving,” the security guard says.

Cars are dipping in and out around us and it’s time for me to go.

Isaiah’s expression changes once again, and something I appreciate about him is that he’s easy to read. He wears his emotions on his sleeve, and it’s clear he doesn’t want me to go. But regardless, he knows I have to, so he gets out of the car, pops his trunk, and pulls out my suitcase. I join him, standing on the curb with him on the asphalt. It still does nothing for our height difference.

“So, I’ll see you soon then.” His words are even, emotionless, nonchalant.

I can read right through it. He doesn’t want to get hurt.

“Couple days.”

He lifts his hat, running a palm over his hair before replacing it. “Have fun. Be safe. Drink water.”

“All right, Mom.”

“Don’t forget about me,” he adds with a spark of humor, but his teasing grin quickly falls.

I couldn’t if I tried.

“Tomorrow before the game, if Sanderson is the one taping your wrists, make sure he does it the way I showed you. Because sometimes he does it too tight. If you need to, Facetime me pre-game, I can walk him through it—”

Isaiah’s teasing smirk is back.

I have yet to miss a game or practice since I started with the Warriors, and I’m having a serious case of apprehensiveness, knowing that tomorrow’s night game will be the first without me.

“I’m sure he’ll do fine,” I correct.

“He’s not you, that’s for damn sure. You’ll be missed, Kenny, and not just by me. The boys will miss seeing you at the clubhouse tomorrow too.”

“Don’t forget about me,” I repeat his words.

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

“Hey! Let’s go.” It’s the same security guard as before. “This is a drop-off zone. Get your car out of here.”

“I should . . .” I throw a thumb over my shoulder, gesturing towards the baggage drop off.

He nods in agreement but doesn’t say anything.

“Okay. So I’ll see you soon then?”

He nods again. “Couple days.”

The silence is awkward, neither of us knowing what to do, so I turn on my heel and walk towards the entrance, towing my suitcase behind me.

I might not have any concrete answers as to what’s happening between us, but it sure as hell isn’t this.

When I turn back, Isaiah’s head is dropped, hands in his pockets, rounding the car for the driver’s side door.

“Isaiah!” I call out to stop him.

When he lifts to look at me, it’s with so much hope.

“You know what I’ve never done before? One of those long, sweeping goodbye kisses at the airport.”

He tries to hold back his smile. “Is that so?”

“I’d like to knock off another one of those firsts if you don’t mind.”

He tosses his head back and forth in faux contemplation. “I don’t know.”

“C’mon, Rhodes.” My tone is teasing. “Play along.”

His head falls back in a laugh before he jogs towards me. I meet him partway, abandoning my suitcase for him.

Hands cupping my jaw, his lips crash down on mine in a slow, all-encompassing kiss. Soft lips, but firm and commanding. I’m entirely under his spell when my mouth parts, allowing his tongue to slide against mine.

That’s when I moan against him. In public. I lean into him. In public. I’m arching and bending as if there were a way I could get closer to him. My hands bracket his face, pulling him into me.

One of his arms snakes down to my neck, wrapping around, while his other hand glides down to cup my ass. Right there in front of the airport.

And with full control of my body, he leans down, dipping me like we’re in some kind of goddamn Lifetime movie, and still his mouth never leaves mine.

We straighten, never losing contact, and when my arms are around his shoulders, he arches back, lifting me right off my feet. When my fingers slide up into his hair, Isaiah’s hat falls to the ground, but still that doesn’t stop us.

I think someone whistles next to us, but I’m not paying much mind. My main focus is on this man that I’m going to miss more than a healthy amount in the next forty-eight hours. The man I thought I couldn’t stand for most of the time I’ve known him.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I’m possessed by him. I had barely touched Connor when we were together, and never in public. And here I am, going at it like some uncontrollable horny teenager with the guy I drunkenly married in Vegas.

“Goddamn,” someone says next to us.

That finally breaks the moment, our mouths separating. We’re both short of breath and trying to catch it when our attention shifts to the side, finding that same security guard watching us.

“Let me guess,” he says. “Newlyweds?”

“Yeah.” Isaiah laughs. “Something like that.”

He sets me back on my feet. Back on my platform Vans, and when he bends down to retrieve his discarded hat from the ground, he taps them, silently teasing me for constantly wearing the shoes we got married in.

“You’re going to be great, Kenny. Don’t miss your flight.” He positions his team hat on my head. “This is so you don’t forget me.”

I secure it so it doesn’t fall off. “Couldn’t if I tried.”

“And this is the weight room.”

Immaculate, state-of-the-art equipment lines the wall. Towels are neatly folded and ready for tomorrow. San Francisco’s logo paints every free surface, making it impossible not to know whose team this room belongs to.

“There’s a sauna and a steam room attached back there,” Josh says. “Everything we have is for both the team and staff to use, so when you officially get out here, make yourself at home. Upper management is good to their employees here.”

Josh was a travel coordinator with Dean’s team in Atlanta, but now works for San Francisco. I remember Dean mentioning that he’d be happy to show me around, but I didn’t plan for my stepbrother to coordinate him also picking me up from the airport.

“Everything is so . . . beautiful. Is that a weird word to use when talking about gym equipment?”

He chuckles. “Not at all. I fully agree. The owners built this arena less than five years ago, so everything is practically brand new. Anything you need, they’ll get it for you. If a piece of your equipment goes out, they’ll have a replacement for you the next day. It really is a top franchise to work for. People leave other teams and take demotions just to work here.”

Josh leads us out of the weight room and into the medical training room.

It’s utter perfection. A medical staffer’s wet dream. Organized and clean, stocked with anything I could possibly need. My eye snags on the office in the corner. Dr. Tran is printed on a nameplate attached to the door, with his title—Head of Health and Wellness—below it.

“And that’ll be your new office,” Josh states.

He doesn’t say, “it might be.”

He doesn’t add on, “if you get the job.”

He speaks about it as if I’ve already been offered the position.

“Is Dr. Tran hands-on with the players, or does he mostly do office work and consult when needed?”

It’s something I need to know before my interview tomorrow. I’m not sure if I could accept the position if there isn’t flexibility that still allows me to do what I love.

“Oh, he’s barely in there. He has an office manager who does most of his paperwork duties. Candice is great. She’ll take care of the managerial duties for you, but yeah, Dr. Tran is super hands-on in the training room and out in the dugout during games.”

“The way you talk about him . . . He sounds like a beloved doctor.”

“He is. He’s been here twenty-six years, and he’s going to be missed. But I know he’s excited to meet you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting him. Will he be in the interview?”

“Yeah, he’s been in them all. From what I’ve heard, you’re the third and final one.”

There’s a part of me that wants to get the inside scoop about the other applicants from Josh. He seems like he knows a little bit about everything that goes on around here, but I refrain. I know what I have to offer in both my experience and education, that if I don’t get the job, it’s because I wasn’t the correct fit.

Which has me asking, “Does Dr. Tran and the rest of the hiring committee know that I’m a woman?”

Josh halts in his steps, utterly confused. “Of course they do.”

Relief floods me.

“Come on,” he says. “I want to show you my favorite view of the whole stadium.”

I follow him to an elevator and down a few hallways. We pass the clubhouse again, which is the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen. The team logo is centered in the middle, and the locker stalls are individually illuminated. The players’ gear is already waiting for their game tomorrow, regardless that they only finished playing today’s game a few hours ago.

He holds the door open for me again, and as soon as I step into the room, I fully understand what he means by it being the best view in the house. It might be the best view in all of San Francisco.

“Holy shit,” I hear myself say, utterly mesmerized by the sparkling water of the Bay behind the bleacher section.

Boats line the marina, and the scoreboard . . . Jesus, I never thought I’d be speechless because of a damn scoreboard. The sun is starting its descent, casting a warm amber and pink glow across the water.

I could get used to this. I could imagine working here, spending most of my days here. This has to be the most beautiful stadium in all of baseball.

But it doesn’t have the history of the stadium in Chicago. It doesn’t have the iconic hand-turned scoreboard, or the infamous ivy-covered brick. It doesn’t have the red marquee outside or the best fans in the world. And don’t even get me started on the hot dogs.

San Francisco doesn’t have the people—the team, Miller, Monty, and most of all, it doesn’t have Isaiah. But on the upside, it also doesn’t have Dr. Fredrick.

And what it can offer me other than a stunning stadium and state-of-the-art facilities is the job I’ve spent my entire adult life working towards. Opportunities like this don’t come around often, if ever, and I’m not going to throw it away because I suddenly realized I have feelings for my husband.

“Are you ready for your interview tomorrow?” Josh asks from my side.

“I think so. I’m a little nervous though. The last time I came in for a job, it didn’t exactly have the best outcome.”

“What do you mean?”

I brush him off. “Long story.”

“Well, you have no need to be nervous. You’re practically a shoo-in. The medical team has been talking about you all week, and you’re the only application that Dr. Tran handpicked.”

That earns my attention. “Really?”

Josh’s smile is genuine. “Really.”

Nodding, I refocus on the stadium in front of me. I can do this. Everything I’ve ever wanted could be mine tomorrow.

He clears his throat. “Apologies if this is forward. I noticed the ring on your finger. Dean gave me the impression that you were single, so I was hoping to take you to dinner tonight, but . . .”

I didn’t think about the fact that I wouldn’t have to wear my wedding ring if I didn’t want to. There’s no one here I need to convince of anything.

“I’m married,” I say simply.

“Again, I don’t want to come off too forward, but is it serious? With you moving across the country and all.”

I raise my brow and he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Too forward. Got it.”

I chuckle to break the tension. “Not too forward, but I also don’t know how to answer that. And even if I were single, the last thing I should be doing as the only woman on staff is going on a date with a potential new coworker, but I am flattered that you asked.”

“I understand. When I took this job and left Atlanta, my ex-wife and I both knew it was over. It was a way for us to create distance and finally call it. So, I wasn’t sure if this was the same for you.”

I shake my head no. I don’t know what’s going on with our situation, but I know it’s not that.

“And by the way,” he continues, “you won’t be the only woman here. I couldn’t even tell you how many women work on staff here.”

I perk up at that. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. Good luck getting into the women’s restroom on the clubhouse level. There’s a constant line.”