Chapter 10
“Andie,” Cassidy says, stirring me from my sketchbook on our hotel room balcony. I’ve been trying to get the lines on this dress right for the last hour, and trying to not think about how if I can’t present something unique at Fashion Week, I may have to start working as a seamstress again.
“Yeah?” I reply, tapping the tip of my pencil on the sketch paper, as if beating it into submission will help the lines flow better. After Kit’s attention to my hands last night, the design came pouring out. I had to capture it before I fell asleep. But ten hours without a touch that intimate, and my muse left the building. There’s no way I’m going to ask him to do it again—how humiliating would that be?
“You’ve got to go join the group by the pool,” she tells me firmly, like my mom may have told me to finish my homework before hanging out with my friends. If my mom ever did that sort of thing.
I sigh. I thought the cameras would just follow us around as we did things, but it seems I get told where to go and when.
One hundred thousand dollars.
“Kit’s already down there.”
Of course he is. I force a smile and close my sketchbook before I stand.
“Andie.” Cassidy stops me as I head to the door.
“What?” I just barely cover the annoyance in my voice.
“Maybe wear something less …” She gestures at my outfit.
I look down at my terry cloth pants and cotton tank. It’s a comfortable outfit, and I’m on vacation.
At my hesitation, Cassidy explains, “I know you’ve already married him, but maybe trying to look good for him isn’t a bad thing.”
I mutter a curse under my breath and duck into the bathroom to change. When I emerge in a red bikini and a long, flowing skirt I made myself—with pockets, of course—Cassidy gives me a wide grin. “That’ll do.”
She clips the pack to my waistband and attaches the mic to my bikini strap over my heart. When she’s satisfied, we make our way down to the pool to drink cocktails and have our conversation directed by the producers on the sidelines.
What I find when I get there, however, is Jamie in a Hawaiian shirt and swim trunks, assembling what appears to be a giant game of Jenga. The tower is as tall as he is.
“Hey, Andie”—Kendra waves me over with a megawatt grin—“you made it!”
Kit rounds the corner of the pool—on his way back from the bar, with a beer in his hand—and stumbles over his feet when he sees me. He recovers with a lighthearted chuckle, and I register that he’s not wearing a shirt. I swallow as he approaches, my heart clanging against my rib cage so hard I’m surprised Steve isn’t flinching at the noise.
When Kit is close enough that I could run my fingers along the tan line right above the waistband of his shorts—not that I’m thinking about doing it—he reaches out and plucks at my bikini strap right below my collarbone. My lips fall open in a gasp. I suppose I should have expected it with how he’s been teasing me, but that touch was playful.
His skin barely brushed mine, but my nipples tighten. I cross my arms over my chest to hide them from the cameras.
A sly grin crosses his face. “You look beautiful.”
My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and his gaze follows it like his life depends on it. “Thanks. You look … comfortable.”
He laughs good-naturedly, and I can’t take my eyes off the muscles in his throat. “It’s a comfortable kind of day.”
An image of our limbs tangled in bed overtakes me so fast I swallow to push it down. Back to the depths of hell.
“We’re about to start a game. Can I get you something to drink?” He plucks my bikini strap again. Alcohol. Right. That’s probably why he’s so relaxed.
I can see Cassidy out of the corner of my eyes, so I give Kit a smile. “Can I share yours? If you don’t mind, I mean.”
“What’s mine is yours,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes. It’s not fair how good-looking he is, truly. He’s only gotten better with age, a veritable god standing in front of me.
I take the beer when he offers and bring it to my lips. His brown eyes darken as I take a slow drink. It’s crisp and bitter on my tongue. I hold out the glass so he can take it back. With his free hand, using his thumb, he wipes a bit of foam off the corner of my mouth.
I expect him to wipe it on his shorts, maybe, or shake it off in the sun. But no. He brings that thumb to his mouth and makes a point of licking the foam off, never once breaking eye contact with me. My cheeks burn and my nipples go hard again. My body can’t decide if I’m hot or cold.
That was a dick move.
“Quit flirting and come show us what you’re made of,” Patrick booms, adjusting his backward baseball cap on his head.
I take a step back from Kit and clear my throat. He gives me one last smirk before turning to the game. “I’ll tell you a secret.” His fingers brush my lower back. “I’m a Jenga champion.”
I snort, rolling my eyes.
“I mean it.” He nudges me with his elbow. “In grad school, a bunch of us from my architecture program would get together to see who could stop the tower from falling. I’m undefeated.”
The spark in his eyes reminds me of the Kit I used to know, and it makes my heart ache. I reach to rub away the pain but get scolded by Cassidy for messing up the microphone. She ducks in to readjust it. When she’s back out of frame, I tell Kit, “Don’t let me down, then. I don’t like to lose.”
He gives me a smile that says he knows. He never forgot my competitive streak. This really is unfair.
“Let’s do this thing!” Patrick whoops, sending Kendra into a fit of giggles. I already have them pegged for the losers; we haven’t even started and they’re already unfocused.
Jamie steps up to the tower to go first, testing the blocks by tapping. Kit asks him, “Is Leslie going to join us?”
Jamie presses his lips together in a grimace and shakes his head. He pulls an easy block from the middle, only a few rows down from the top. “He says he’s not feeling well. Something he ate.” Jamie places the block on top of the tower with a look that says he doesn’t think Leslie is actually sick.
My heart lurches against my rib cage. Jamie and Leslie had been full of heart eyes since the wedding day. If they’re having trouble already, Kit and I don’t stand a chance.
Which is a good thing. Right.
We all take our turns for the first rounds without incident. By round three, Kit leans over and whispers, “Find an easy block on the right, then place it on the left up top. And push, don’t pull.”
I walk toward the tower, ignoring the shiver at how filthy push, don’t pull sounds coming out of Kit’s mouth when he’s focused. With his instructions, my next few turns go smoothly. On one of his, he pulls a move I’ve never seen before: bracing the tower with his forearm as he shimmies a block free. It gives me too long to look at the map of veins under his skin, to admire the sun filtering through the hair on his arm. It’s downright erotic, and we’re in public. On camera, for fuck’s sake.
On Kendra’s next turn, the tower almost tumbles. We all wait for it to settle with bated breath. Who knew a game of Jenga could be so intense?
Kit. Kit clearly did. While Jamie works another block loose, Kit murmurs in my ear, “Hinge one of the side blocks out. Find a smaller one.”
His warm breath unfurls over the skin of my neck, falling down my collarbone. It’s a surprisingly intimate gesture. When I look over my shoulder to see if he’s trying to be so sensual, his eyes are locked on the tower and a frown pulls at his mouth. Strategy for the game, that’s all his whispers are.
I shake it off as I approach the tower, testing blocks. It takes a while to find a good one, poolside. Okay. Go time.
I bite my lip and move ever so slowly to tug the block from the tower. I sew thousands of minuscule beads onto delicate fabrics, my hands are as steady as they come. Call me Captain Fine Motor Skills.
The group holds their breaths along with me, including Kit. I’ve absorbed his quiet guidance the entire game, and this time it’s definitely going to pay off.
The block catches and I let it go. The tower sways as Kendra squeals, clasping her hands in front of her chest. Kit doesn’t say anything, but I can feel him behind me, watching intensely. His gaze makes my skin vibrate with electricity, and I shake out my hands to rid them of the sensation before I try again.
The wood is rough against the pads of my fingers, and I use the friction to gently pull. One deep breath at a time.
The block is stubborn, so I give it a small shimmy back and forth. The tower sways over my head again, and I redouble my focus. It’s just a little physics problem, that’s all. Slow and steady wins the race.
I let out a breath when I manage to free enough of the block to regrip. As I give it a gentle tug, the whole tower quivers, leaning further over me.
Fuck. No.
The blocks reach their tipping point, and I cover my head to keep from getting clobbered.
Before I can catch my breath, an arm wraps around my waist and pulls me backward. I gasp at the collision of my back into Kit’s warm, naked chest. He grunts as our legs tangle from the momentum.
Suddenly we’ve reached our tipping point, and his grip on me gets tighter as we fall backward. My stomach plummets with the give into gravity, and I brace for a landing on the warm pool deck, gritting my teeth.
But it never comes. Instead, it’s a tidal wave of chlorinated water as Kit breaks our fall into the pool. For a moment I can’t breathe and the world is upside down. A block tumbles through the water and smacks me on the shoulder. It’s not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to shock me into swallowing a mouthful of water.
Kit’s hands are rough on my waist, pushing me to the surface. I burst out of the water and gasp for air. I’m sputtering and choking out what I swallowed when Kit pops up next to me.
Cassidy is swearing in the background, barking at a junior producer. “Fuck, the mics!”
But that all fades into the background as Kit hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me into him, using his other hand to push my water-laden hair out of my face. Fingers lingering on my cheek, he asks, “You okay?”
“No.” I shake my head. “That tower shouldn’t have fallen over. I chose the right bock to—”
Kit throws his head back and laughs. His skin glides along mine underwater and the vibrations of his guffaws hit me square between the legs.
Frustrated with the betrayal of my body, I splash him. “Dammit, Kit, this isn’t funny; we should have won!”
He wipes the water from his face and gives me an ear-splitting grin. “I told you to push.”
Am I hallucinating or did our hips rock together ever so slightly underwater? I don’t have time to hash it out logically. Cassidy and the junior producer appear at the edge of the pool begging us to climb out. “These aren’t the waterproof mics!” she wails in despair, a grimace etching into her features.
As we climb out of the pool and wrap ourselves in towels, Cassidy bemoans the loss of these mics because the water’s shorted them out. Steve puts his camera aside for a moment, his hand moving in slow circles across her back. I can’t look away from the gesture. Yearning threatens to split my rib cage wide open right here for everyone to see. Kit listens intently as Cassidy works through the problem out loud, Steve comforting her all the while. The waterproof mics are apparently charging for our mysterious rainforest activity tomorrow, which means Kit and I are mic-free for a few hours.
Freedom.
I smile. He meets my grin by throwing another towel over my head and scrubbing it in my wet hair. I’m smacking him away before I recognize the sound of his hearty laughter twining its way around my beating heart.
Just when I think I’ll be able to return to my sketchbook on the balcony of our room, fully charged and buzzing with Kit’s touch, Cassidy claps her hands. “New plan: talking heads. Go upstairs and get cute. You have five minutes while we set up the boom mic. Get ready to answer some questions. Individually.”
I bite back a groan and steal a glance at Kit, whose mood looks equally dampened by the news. My heart squeezes in my chest. For a few blissful moments, Kit managed to make me forget about anything but right now. The gnawing guilt over the designs I should be working on rushes in, settling heavy on my shoulders. I school my face into a blank expression and shrug, telling Kit flatly, “Dibs on the shower.”
His look is blank too, though his tone is defeated. “All yours.”
FIRST LOOK AT FOREVER
SEASON THREE
EPISODE TWO
PRODUCER:
It looked like you were having fun with Kit by the pool today.
ANDIE:
Um. I ended up nearly drowning. So.
PRODUCER:
Your chemistry together is pretty amazing.
ANDIE:
[frowns]
PRODUCER:
Is it possible you still have feelings for him after all this time?
ANDIE:
I don’t—I can’t—what?
FIRST LOOK AT FOREVER
SEASON THREE
EPISODE TWO
PRODUCER:
It seems like you’re relaxing around each other.
KIT:
I think so, yeah. It’s good to see her loosen up a bit, have some fun.
PRODUCER:
Does it frustrate you that you have to work so hard to get her there?
KIT:
Not really. She’s always been like this. Andie may take some things too seriously, and she’s pretty closed off, but I think that makes those moments like today better, doesn’t it? She doesn’t hand out her joy to just anyone. I like being the one to earn it.
PRODUCER:
Do you think you may still have feelings for her?
KIT:
Of course I do. You don’t meet a woman like Andie and walk away unchanged, you know?