Play Me (Take a Chance 3)

He raised his brows. “You could give me space, like I asked. Why cook for me? What do you want?”

She looked at him. “I thought you might like to eat some food. Last time I checked, you were human.”

“It’s been over three months since we talked or hung out.” He crossed his arms over his chest, not sure what her sudden reemergence in his life meant. What game was she playing? “And last time I checked, we weren’t really on speaking terms. Yet here you are. Cooking me dinner.”

“Yep.” She set down the spoon she was using to stir the sauce, shoulders tight as she leaned on the counter. “Pretty much.”

He looked away from her and swallowed hard. Did she realize how much it hurt him just to see her face or to hear her voice? Probably not, since he’d been the only idiot who had wanted more. Every woman paled in comparison to her. No matter how hard he tried to move

on, to be attracted to another woman, there was only one person on his mind. Kiersten. But if she was here…

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Have you changed your mind about us?”

She paled and he cursed himself for jumping to foolish, optimistic conclusions. “I—no, not yet. But—”

“Then you need to leave,” he said. He raised his head and met her eyes, unwilling to back down. “I haven’t changed my mind, either. I need space.”

“It’s been three months. Isn’t that enough space?”

“No.” He drew in a ragged breath. “It’s not. Now please leave.”

She bit her lip. “No.”

“Yes.” He strode toward her, picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed for the door. He tried not to remember that the last time he’d carried her like this, they’d been going up to her bedroom. “If you won’t walk out on your own, then I’ll carry you out.”

She punched his back and squirmed. “Let me down. We need to talk.”

“The time for talking is over. I need distance right now. Eventually we can be friends again. But for now?” He opened the door, set her in the hallway, and closed the door in her face. “Please go home.”

He turned away and stomped into the kitchen. Damn it, he wasn’t doing this anymore. He may have played the part of the lovesick friend for months—hell, years—now, but he was done with being a benchwarmer she pulled out when it suited her mood.

From now on, it needed to be a starting position for him…or nothing at all.

Shutting off the stove, he picked up the pot and peeked inside. She’d made his favorite meal. Cheese ravioli. Vodka sauce bubbled away in a different pot and he could smell the garlic bread in the oven.

“Listen, Garrett, we need to talk,” Kiersten said.

Garrett jumped and faced her with a glare. “What are you doing in here—again?”

“I have a key.” She waved a gold key under his nose, her nose tilted up in the air stubbornly. “And I know how to open a door on my own. I’ve been doing it since I was three.”

“Congratulations.” He snatched the key out of her hand and reached for her, determined to put her right back where he had left her. “But you need to go. I’m serious.”

She jumped out of his reach and sprinted behind the relative safety of his favorite chair. “Not until you listen to me. Sit down and shut up for a second, will you?”

He pursued her, ready to stick her back out in the hallway, sans key this time. “All I asked for was a break. Can’t you respect that?”

He bolted around the chair, reaching for her arm. Her eyes widened and she darted to the side when he feinted left and ran right, hoping to fool her into his arms. “I can’t leave until we talk,” she replied.

“Why not?” he asked in exasperation, holding his hands up. “What could possibly be so damn important?”

She blinked at him, wringing her hands. “I’m pregnant.”

He stilled, unable to breathe. Nothing she said could shock him any more than those two words. He stumbled back against the wall, his heart beating so loudly it echoed in his ears. “What did you say?”

She came around the side of the chair, creeping closer cautiously. “I said that I’m pregnant. And yes. It’s yours.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that,” he snapped. He sank into his favorite chair, staring at a crack in the wall. Pregnant. Fucking pregnant? How? Why? “How long have you known?”