Unravel Me (Playing For Keeps Book 3)

She’s so pretty. Does she know how pretty she is? Her hair looks so soft, I just want to touch it. She’s got these freckles, like liquid gold, dotting the bridge of her nose and sweeping over her cheekbones. Her chin has the tiniest dimple in it, right there in the middle, and when she smiles, I—

“You’re making me nervous.”

I trip over my feet, jolting forward. “What?”

Rosie snickers, and when she does, her nose does this cute little scrunchy thing. “You haven’t said a word in ten minutes, Adam. You’re just walking in silence, staring at me.” She swipes at her chin. “Do I have something on my face? I had a peanut butter and jam sandwich earlier and I tend to be an incredibly messy eater.” She swings her head over her shoulder, trying to look at her butt. “Or did I sit in something? You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve done that , only to find out hours later when I take my clothes off.”

I chuckle. “No, you don’t have jam on your face, and you didn’t sit in something. Your butt is per—” I halt. Rosie blinks at me. I blink back. “Pur ple.” I gesture at her butt in her skintight lilac leggings. “Your pants are purple, so your butt is also…purple. Not that I was looking.”

I was totally looking.

Rosie tucks a short petal-pink wave behind her ear. “Thanks…I think?”

I nod. “Yeah, they’re nice leggings.” I do love the leggings, almost as much as I love the ass, and not because of the color.

Because her hips are full and round as fuck, and I’m not proud to say every single time she skips ahead of me, my eyes zero in on that perfect ass in those sculpted pants. Who had any right giving her an ass like that? It lures my mind to dark, forbidden places, like what it would feel like to grab it in my hands, lift her to me and press her against a tree.

I want to feel her. Touch her. I want to brush my thumb over that tiny dimple in her chin, skim my hand over the flare of her hip, tangle my fingers with hers, and just feel . I want to fucking feel something, anything, and I just want it to feel right .

“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “I’m in my own head today. Every day, really.”

“That’s okay. I live in mine. It’s an overwhelming place to be sometimes. Oh!” She claps my shoulder and turns, walking backward in front of me. “Do you ever do that worst-case-scenario thing?”

I lift a brow. “Worst-case-scenario thing?”

She lays a hand over her chest. “I’m a worst-case-scenario expert.” She flips back around and joins my side, clutching my elbow as we walk. “So I start by thinking about one seemingly insignificant thing, and then I accidentally think of something bad that could happen because of it, then another something bad, and before I know it, I’ve got a list of all the horrible, terrifying things that could go wrong if I wade too deep in the water, or if I go for a walk at night time, or if I grow a backbone, open my mouth, and finally tell somebody no.” She watches my blank face for a moment, then cringes. “Sorry. My level of anxiety is almost always unmatched.” She points at Piglet, roaming up ahead with Bear. “Except with Pig. And see, now I’m doing that worst-case-scenario thing where I’m thinking you suddenly wish you hadn’t asked me to walk with you, and now you’re thinking of ways to end this, and what if you’re desperate enough to roll me right off the cliff?” Wide eyes stare up at me. “Please don’t kill me.”

A rumble of laughter escapes from deep in my chest, and I toss an arm around her shoulders. “I wouldn’t dream of taking you out. How would I stare at your purple pants?”

“You mean my butt?”

“Careful, trouble.”

There’s that flush, the same color as her name, blotching those cheekbones.

“I get what you mean, though,” I tell her. “I get lost in my thoughts, and they run away with things that could go wrong, how I might not be seeing something clearly, or how history might repeat itself. It’s confusing and…”

“Daunting.”

“Yeah, it is. Makes me pause about a lot of things.

“Makes me miss out on a lot of chances,” she adds quietly.

“Hey.” Nudging her side, I smile, because I want to see hers again. “Keep me around, and you won’t miss out on anything. I’ll show up at the shelter so you don’t have a choice.”

She cracks a wide, hopeful grin, extra parts goofy. “One might think you’re stalking me.”

“That’s what I said! My friend said girls like that stuff, though.”

Her eyes come to mine, curious and a little hesitant, another blush staining her cheeks. “You talked to your friend about me?”

There’s a part of me, such a large part, that’s uncertain. Worried I’m seeing something, feeling something that isn’t really here. That I’ve gotten desperate enough to convince myself she’s interested. I mean, really interested. And that fear steals my words.

Instead, I smile softly and take her hand, helping her over a cluster of rocks and to the bridge. She drops to her butt on the edge of the wood, feet dangling over the creek, and I sink down beside her. The dogs rush to her side when she pulls her backpack onto her lap, and I watch as Bear behaves like a perfect angel as she has him sit tall and still, showing him his cookie before she offers it to him. He takes it delicately and licks her cheek when he’s done. Rosie giggles and kisses his nose before doing the same with Piglet, and after lapping some water from a collapsible bowl, the two dogs curl up together behind us.

“Piglet seems to like Bear,” I observe.

“Because she’s so anxious with people, she doesn’t get much in the way of pup socialization at Wildheart. She’s selective about who she gives her trust to, and it makes me sad to think of her spending so much time in her own head. I’m so happy that she’s made a friend.”

“Then we should walk together every Saturday, huh?”

Rosie smiles down at her bag. “If you’d like to.”

“I would. Would you?”

This time, her blush makes its way up to the tips of her ears. “Yeah. I think I would.”

“Cool. It’s a date.”

Rosie’s eyes flick to mine, a sea of curiosity and nerves that swirl as she examines me beneath her lashes. Her bangs curtain her face, brushing her temples and not letting her hide those emotions she wears so freely. She opens her mouth but seems to second-guess, instead choosing to take her lower lip between her teeth and focus her attention on her backpack, a slight tremor to her hands.

She hands me two sandwiches and a muffin. “Here. For you.”

“You made lunch for me?”

“I thought, you know, just in case we ran into you again, and you wanted to eat with us. It’s a turkey bacon club with Swiss on sourdough. It’s no big deal. If you don’t want it—”

“It is a big deal.” I lay my hand over her fumbling one, stopping the nervous way she’s tearing at the edge of her sandwich. “You thought of me, and that’s a big deal to me.” I stroke her wrist with my thumb, and her eyes track the movement before lifting to mine. “Thank you, Rosie.”

And then, to ease the thick tension in the air, I sigh happily. “I haven’t eaten since second breakfast.”

“Second breakfast?”

“I’d waste away if I only had the first.”

There’s that snicker-snort, even if she hides it behind her muffin. When she’s done, she hands me a wipe to clean my hands, offers the dogs another cookie, and refills their water bowl one last time before we pack everything away.

I take her hand, helping her back over the rocks, and tilt my head toward the sparkling creek. “Walk through the water with me?”

She hesitates like she might say no, but Bear races ahead, splashing into the water, and Piglet tugs on her leash, yanking Rosie forward as she chases after Bear.

“Here,” I say with a chuckle, taking Piglet’s leash. I kick off my shoes and socks and follow the dogs into the water. “Go sit. Dip your toes while we play.”

She nods, taking a seat on the edge of the bank, watching us as she dips her feet. The dogs plow around in front of me, wrestling and rolling, until the three of us are soaked to the bone. They stop for a rest, lying in the sunshine, and the quiet slosh of water draws my attention over my shoulder.

Rosie slowly makes her way toward us, one hand at her jaw, the other clutching the neck of her shirt. She looks up at me, an unsteady smile spreading in slow motion, and I grin, holding my hand out to her.

Her warm palm slides against mine, and I grasp it tightly, pulling her into me. I don’t want to let go, but I do, and together we wade through the shallow water.

After a few peaceful minutes, Rosie’s next step has the water rising suddenly to her knees, pulling a sharp gasp from her. “Oh . I didn’t know it got so deep.”

She frantically steps backward, clawing at the back of my shirt before she slips on a rock and nearly tumbles straight to her ass. I catch her around the waist, her soft curves melting beneath my palm as she fists my shirt. The tips of my fingers dig into her hips as she peers up at me, pink lips parting, each puff of breath kissing my lips as I hold her to me, staring down at her heart-shaped face.

“Careful, trouble.”

Her fingers tighten around my shirt and her gaze falls to my mouth. Then she blinks, shakes her head, and pushes us both up. Piglet rushes to her side, sniffing Rosie’s legs, her hands, before finally licking her wherever she can get her tongue.

Rosie pats her head. “I’m fine, Pig, but thank you anyway for the kisses.” Her eyes come to mine for only a moment before darting away. “Sorry. Freaked out a bit there.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re pretty short; we should stay where it’s shallow.”

She guffaws. “I am not short.”

“That’s what all short people say.”

“I—” Rosie huffs, pinning her arms across her chest. “I’m not short.”

I grin, tapping the corner of her pout. “What are you, five-four?”

She points a cute-as-fuck, stubborn nose to the sky. “Five-five, thank you very much. But I suppose that looks teensy tiny compared to your monstrous height.”

I stifle a laugh. “Sorry I missed that last inch.”

“An inch is very important.”

“Oh, I completely agree. One inch might mean the difference between a disappointing night and one spent screaming for all the right reasons.” The words are out of my mouth before I can overthink them, and I wait for them to settle. Rosie’s mouth pops open, the heat in her cheeks returning like molten lava, and I wink.

Snapping her mouth shut, she scrunches her nose to hide her amusement and swats my shoulder. “Dirty boy. I hope for your sake, and the sake of all the girls who spend those nights with you, you’ve got that extra inch.”

I bark a laugh. “There are no girls.”

Her brows hike. “None?”

“Not a single one.”

“Hmmm.” She leans closer, beckoning me like she has a secret, and I dip my head, a cocktail of excitement and nerves racing down my spine as her warm breath touches my ear. “Is it because you don’t have that extra inch?”

I whip away with a sharp gasp and a hand pressed to my chest. When she breaks out into a fit of giggles, I give the bun on her head a gentle tug. “You really are trouble with a capital T , aren’t you?”

Her laughter slowly ceases, and she drops her attention to her toes.

“Not a fan of the nickname?”

“Trouble?”

“Mmm.”

She stares at the bright blue sky, a far-off smile curving her lips. “Love it, actually. My dad coined it when I was two.”

“Ah, so we both saw right through those wide green eyes and innocent smile.”

“Hey.” She narrows her eyes and pokes my stomach. “I’ll have you know the most trouble I ever got in as a kid was bringing home a baby bunny I found at the park. It was all alone, so I thought it lost its mom and I was doing the right thing. Dad explained that mother rabbits leave them during the day to protect them from predators, that she would be looking for her baby when the sun went down and she came back to feed it. I was distraught with myself for taking it from its mom.”

“Come on. The worst thing you ever did was save a baby bunny from what you thought might be starvation? No way, I don’t buy it.”

“It’s true! I was a good kid. My parents and I were always so busy in our spare time, hiking, camping, exploring…” She shrugs. “I guess I never really had a chance to stray off course.”

“And as a teenager?”

Something in her expression changes, the light in her eyes dimming, stealing all her excitement. “I was an even better teenager. So quiet, no one even noticed me.” She turns away, wading back to shore. “I’ve gotta start heading back.” Her reserved smile quickly spirals into laughter as the dogs claim her feet, cleaning the water off as she tries to pull her socks on. “Stop ,” she squeals, flipping over, crawling away on her hands and knees. “My feet are ticklish!”

Seeing her on her hands and knees with her full, round ass in the air does something to me. It unlocks something dark and feral, so hungry I have to turn away, run a shaky palm over my mouth.

God, I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this turned on, this attracted to someone. It’s not just the wild fucking curves , the flare of her wide hips, the dip in her waist where I’m desperate to watch my fingertips dig in and disappear.

It’s the way her entire body comes alive when she laughs, her nose crinkling right along with it. It’s the way her eyes light with excitement and dim with disappointment, unable to hide a single emotion coursing through her, leaving her wide open, begging to be read like your favorite book. How her teeth descend on that lower lip, nibbling when she’s playing shy. How she’s unable to hold that smile back when it wants to break free, and the way it drags mine out like a magnet, because when she smiles, everything feels right.

It’s the way she loves the dogs so wholly, shows Piglet neverending patience. It’s bringing extra sandwiches on her hike, just in case, because she thought of me .

It’s not that I feel less fractured with Rosie, but that the light streams in anyway, between all the shattered pieces left behind. I find beauty there, a sense of peace that tells me good things are waiting.

Maybe it’s dense of me to be so hopeful after everything, the betrayals, the lies, the countless dates with anything but the right intentions. Maybe I’ve lost my mind, thinking I can find any type of solace in someone I barely know.

But I’d rather be hopeful than accept the more gutting option: that I won’t find what my friends have, the type of love my parents taught me to wait for.

Rosie and I walk in silence as the dogs trot ahead of us, and after a few minutes she nudges my side. “So what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Were you a sweet kid or a terror?”

I chuckle, skimming my jaw as I admit, “I was a little shit. My parents always taught me to be kind and helpful; that was never an issue. I just found myself in a lot of places I shouldn’t be. Like in a four-feet-deep hole in my Grandma’s back garden when I tested whether you really could dig your way to China.” I point a finger in Rosie’s amused face. “You can’t, by the way, so don’t waste your energy. Then there was that time at the cottage when I collected a bucket of frogs and brought them to my mom while she was napping on the couch. She was scared of frogs, but I wanted to show her there was nothing to be scared of because they’re just hoppy, gentle little guys, and a little slime won’t hurt you. It, uh, really didn’t go to plan.” I palm the back of my neck as I remember how she cracked one lid when I whispered I had a surprise for her, how she shot up, accidentally knocking the bucket from my hand, tripped over the blanket, and face-planted on the floor as all twelve frogs leapt around the living room. “Remind me to call my mom and apologize for the hundredth time when I get home.”

“Aw, come on. You were just a little kid! Your heart was in the right place. You must have been, what? Five? Six?”

I run a hand over my mouth to hide my guilty smile. “Thirteen.”

“Thirteen ? Adam! Call your mama right now and apologize!”

“I know, I know. I told you: I was a little shit. But hey, I turned out all right.” I grin, extra charming, and waggle my brows. “I’ve even been called angelic as an adult.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Cocky too. And what about nicknames? Do you have any?”

“Woody, I guess, would be the only one.”

“Woody? Why?”

I tell her the half truth, because I’m not telling her about the hotel incident. “Because my last name is Lockwood.”

“Lockwood,” she murmurs, and I hold my breath, waiting for her to put my first and last name together, for recognition to hit. Waiting for this happy, safe bubble I’ve found myself in to finally burst.

But it doesn’t.

She smiles, holding her hand out. “Nice to meet you, Adam Lockwood. I’m Rosie Wells.”

I chuckle, tugging her into my side, swinging my arm around her shoulders. “You’re cute as fuck, Rosie Wells.” Bear tosses me a stare over his shoulder, and I roll my eyes. “You, too, Bear.” Piglet swings around, hammering Bear in the face with her butt, and bounds over to us, tongue hanging out of her mouth. “And you, too, pretty Pig.”

She loops through Rosie’s legs with a whimper, big brown eyes peeking at the top of the stairs as they come into view. I hand Bear’s leash to Rosie and pat my chest.

“C’mon, girl.”

“You’re gonna throw your back out one of these days,” Rosie scolds as I lift Piglet into my arms.

“Nah.” I shift Piglet to one arm and flex the bicep on my other. “I’m big and strong.”

“Your daddy thinks he’s all that and a bag of potato chips, Bear, doesn’t he?” she whispers to him as they start down the stairs, and the little shit barks his agreement. “Right, if he really wanted to impress us, he’d carry you too.”

“I can hear you!”

She flashes me a brilliant smile over her shoulder. “You’re doing great, Adam! Wow, you’re so strong!”

“Women,” I mutter, and Pig sticks her tongue in my ear.

I spend the ten-minute walk to Wildheart contemplating how to casually drop that I’m a famous professional athlete, that I think she’s really pretty, and it would be super great if she wanted to maybe, like…spend some time with me. Eat a meal she doesn’t make me, maybe have a glass of wine that I can taste from her lips after.

I open my mouth approximately twenty thousand times and snap it shut in favor of silence each time.

Rosie’s not doing much better than me. She’s standing here in front of me, twirling a pink lock and scuffing at the ground with her shoes, beat-up Nikes with a white and blue floral swoosh. Her eyes bounce between her feet and my face, her cheeks growing warmer with each pass.

“Well, I guess—”

“Do you wanna have dinner with me?” I blurt, and suddenly my cheeks are as red as hers.

“Dinner?”

“I know we agreed to hike again next Saturday, but it would be nice to see you before then.”

Wide, hopeful eyes peer up at mine. “Before then?”

“Before then.”

“Before Saturday?”

“Before Saturday.”

She bites her lip, scrunches her nose. “Like…when?”

Tonight is on the tip of my tongue, but it’s too soon. I need help. Maybe professional. I need to call a meeting.

I need a motherfucking girls’ night.

“What about Wednesday? You, me, and dinner.”

Something sparks in her eyes, lighting her from the inside out. Her hands curl into eager fists at her sides. “Oh, yeah, I could do that. I’m really good at eating dinner.” Her jaw drops, and she claps both hands over her mouth. “Oh my gosh. I’m really good at eating dinner . Did I just say that out loud? I did, didn’t I?”

“You did,” I confirm, panic easing its grip on my throat. “But it was no worse than earlier today when I said I liked eating you and then pointed at your crotch.” I take her hands in mine, my thumb moving over the chipped purple polish on her fingernails. “So…dinner? Wednesday?”

Rosie nods eagerly, then pauses. “But wait. Is it just a friend date? Or is it like…a dinner date? Like a date-date? Like two people having dinner, like a…”

“Date?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” I grin. “It’s a date.”

“Okay. Cool. So cool.” Her head bobs. “I like that.”

“Good.” I bring her body into mine for one of those hugs I’ve been thinking about all week. She smells summery, like coconut, melon, and fresh laundry, and I sink into the way she feels against me, soft, warm, and just right. “Because I gotta tell ya, Rosie, the thoughts I’ve been having would get just a friend into an awful lot of trouble.”

By the time we’ve exchanged numbers and she’s disappearing inside, she’s still rocking a volcanic flush that paints her whole body, warm enough I can still feel it as I start back home.

Opening a new message thread, I type in Olivia, Cara, and Jennie’s names.

ME

I need your help. I met a girl.

OLIVIA

OMG! Adam!!! *heart eyes emoji* *happy tears emoji* *bride emoji* *groom emoji*

JENNIE

My guy!!! *eggplant emoji* *peach emoji* *water droplets emoji*

I’ve got some toy recs if you two wanna get creative.

<link> This one’s my fav. I threaten to replace Garrett with it at least 2x/week.

CARA

Well, well, well. Look who’s come crawling to the masters for advice. You’ve come to the right place, young grasshopper.

_{Cara changed the group chat name to Journey to Pussy Palace.}

ME

Care, what the fuck???

Cara: Sorry, babe *sad emoji* I tried “Adam’s Road to Hope: One Man’s Journey to Pussy Palace” but it was too long.

Jesus Christ. What the hell did I just get myself into?