Playing it Kale (The McCain Saga Book 4) (7 page)

“I don’t know,” I say as I set the
shakes down on the kitchen counter.
 
“I’ve always flown so under the radar, I don’t know if I could ever get
used to the life you live.”

“Better get used to it fast,” he says as
he sets the bag down.
 
As he does, his
hip brushes my back end, setting off a firework—one of the sparkler ones—in my
lower belly.
 
“I have a feeling
something’s about to happen for you.
 
Fast.”

I
turn,
my back
resting against the counter.
 
Kale is
standing close, close enough I can smell the heady scent of him.
 
His dark eyes look down at me, intense, and
adventurous, and so…him.

“Thank you,” I say, my
voice lower
than normal.
 
“For everything tonight.
 
It really means a lot.”

There’s a look of indecision on his
face.
 
Could Kale McCain want to kiss me
right now?
 
Cause
that hunger in his eyes–I don’t think I’m imagining it.

And slowly, he leans forward.
 
My eyes start to slide closed.
 
An electric storm sparks in my blood.

And then he reaches forward, and grabs
two fries from the bag.
 
One he stuffs in
his own mouth, one he puts in mine.

“You’re very welcome,” he says as he
grins.

CHAPTER
FOUR

The smell of something burning pulls me
from sleep.

My first thought is to completely panic
that the house is burning down.
 
I fling
myself out of what I thought was my bed, only I’m on the couch, which is not as
big as my bed, and I flip onto the floor, tangling myself in a blanket.

“Morning,” someone says, calm as
anything.

I throw the blanket off of my head, look
around, slightly terrified that there is
someone
in my house.

And then all my lady bits go crazy at
the same time my blood freezes in my chest.

Cause there, in my kitchen, wearing
nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, is Kale.

“Sorry for the smoke,” he says without
turning around to look at me.
 
He stands
at the stove.
 
The fan is on above it,
but it isn’t doing much to alleviate the smoke rising from the stove.
 
“I thought I knew how to make pancakes, but
apparently it’s a lot harder than it looks.”
 
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, making his hips do
amazing things.
 
My eyes go to the
Your Fantasy
label on the elastic of his
underwear.

There was never more accurate branding.

I climb to my feet, the events of the
previous night coming back to me.

We came back here.
 
We ate dinner.
 
I had thought Kale was going to kiss me.
 
But he didn’t.
 
And we spent a
solid hour, at least, just talking.
 
And
that’s the last thing I remember.
 
I must
have fallen asleep on the couch at some point.
 
And either Kale was being awfully presumptuous and just decided to crash
at my place without permission, or he fell asleep, too.

Either way, I really don’t mind.

“Here, let me get rid of those,” I say
as I cross into the kitchen.
 
I grab the
plate of ruined pancakes that look like gobs of runny, yet somehow black ick,
and cross to the front door.
 

Just as I start to twist the handle to
take them out to the road trash, Kale yells, “No, don’t open the door!”

But it’s too late, because I pull it
open.

And am blinded by
flashing lights.

There has to be fifteen photographers
camped out on my front steps.
 
There’s at
least one news van as well.
 
And a dozen
people snap pictures of me with their camera phones.

And I can just stand there in
shock.
 
In my itty bitty shorts I changed
into last night, and an oversized T-shirt that says NOPE, NOT TODAY.

Then Kale is behind me, slamming the
door closed.

There’s no doubt that at least some of
them caught him in just his underwear.

Holy crap.

Kale double checks the blinds that they
are closed tight and locks the door.
 
He
peaks between two of the slats, looking out at the crazed crowd outside.

“I should have warned you first thing,”
he says, his breathing fast and hard.
 
“Should have known it would have only taken hours for the vultures
to circle.”

“Are they all here
cause
of the video last night?” I breathe.
 
I’m
still staring at my front door and suddenly I’m terrified.
 
You see what being a celebrity is like on the
TV, you hear about the paparazzi and the loss of privacy.
 
But experiencing it in real life?
 
Holy crap!
 
It’s scary.

“No question about it,” Kale says,
peeking through the blinds one last time.
 
He then looks back at me, and that signature smile of his is back on his
beautiful face.
 
“Welcome to the next big
thing.”

He stands there, hands on his hips,
perfectly sculpted abs and pecks right there just two feet away, grinning at me
like I’m the most amazing thing in the world.
 

And everything is all just too much.

“Hey,” Kale says, as if seeing all the
terror on my face.
 
He crosses to me and
wraps his nearly naked body around me in a hug.
 
“I know it’s pretty freaky at first, but it’s going to be okay.
 
These first few days are going to be crazy
and a bit overwhelming, but things will get put into place to manage it all.”

“How are you so sure?” I ask, trying to
fight back the sting in the back of my eyes.
 
I press my cheek to his bare chest.
 
“How are you so sure that this is the launch of anything?”

“Because I’ve known you
for, what?
 
Four days?
 
And I’m already
obsessed with you,” he says quietly, but there’s no shame or hesitance in his
admission.
 
“Because you have what it’s
going to take.
 
All it took was one tiny
shove, and look at what’s already happening.”

Gathering my bravery, I look up at
Kale’s face, and I see how genuinely he believes this.
 
I’ve been following Kale’s career and, to be
honest, personal life for a while now, and I never thought of him as a real
genuine person.
 
Not someone who had many
deep emotions or that cared about anyone other than himself.

But what he’s saying, it’s real.

“Just take a deep breath,” he says
without letting me go.

His request seems ridiculous considering
I’m in the arms of a nearly naked, perfect Adonis, but I do it anyway.
 
And it does calm me.

“I’m going to call Julian and see if he
knows any security guards from their work that could come manage the situation
outside temporarily,” Kale says as he regretfully lets me go.
 
“I’d call Lake, but considering he’s probably
half way to Aruba right now, he won’t be much help.”

“Why…” my voice cracks and I clear my
throat.
 
“Why would you call Lake?”

Kale smiles as he looks up at me from
his phone.
 
“He’s a Marine Sergeant.
 
And really knows how to handle
himself
.”

“I really appreciate it, Kale,” I say,
running a hand through my hair.
 
“But I
really need to get to work.
 
And I’m sure
it’s all going to blow over in a few hours.
 
It was just one video.”

“Whitney,” he says, giving me a serious
look.
 
But he pauses with the phone in
his hand.

“No…” I interrupt him.
 
“Just…I need to go to work.
 
Everything will be fine.
 
I’ll sneak out the back.”

And before he can say anything, I slip
into my bedroom and close the door.

I just need…I just need some
normal.
 
I need half a second to think
about all this.
 
About
all those people outside.
 
About Kale.
 
About everything.

So I change.
 
Slowly.

When I walk back out into the living
room, Kale has put his clothes back on.

That is regretful.

“My agent just called,” Kale says.
 
There’s uncertainty in his eyes.
 
He’s not sure what to expect from me right
now.
 
I suddenly feel like a
grenade.
 
Like he thinks I’ll go off at
any moment.
 
Maybe I will.
 
“He wants me to wait here for a while.
 
He’s going to send someone to come pick us
up.”

“He doesn’t need to worry about me,” I
say, gathering up my stuff for work.
 
My
briefcase with all my research papers that I took home, thinking I was going to
work on it this weekend.
 
And then
everything—Kale—happened.
 
“It’s
fine.
 
I’m just going to go into work.”

“Whitney,” Kale starts again.
 
There’s a sigh in his voice.
 

“No, Kale,” I say, feeling this ball of
panic trying to claw its way up my throat.
 
“I need to do this.
 
I just…I’m
going to work.”

I hold his eyes for a long time.
 
There’s a war going on
behind
his own
.
 
He wants to argue with
me.
 
But I have the feeling that Kale
knows how to recognize someone at the brink of falling over the edge.
 
He knows when to not push.

“’K, I’ll walk you out to your car.”

I’m grateful.
 
But I can’t say much of anything right now.

We head out the back door, which is
really down the fire escape.
 
Thankfully
my truck is parked around the corner on the curb, out of view of all the
insanity.

“I’ll…” I pause, my hand on the handle
of the truck.
 
“I’ll call you at lunch,
okay?”

“’K,” Kale says.
 
There’s a truckload of concern in his
eyes.
 
But he’s going to give me
this.
 
“Be careful.”

“I will.”

And I get in my truck.
 
Kale watches me as I go.

When he’s out of view, when my
apartment,
and the reporters are out of view of my mirror, I
take a deep breath.

Tell myself to chill out.

This will all blow over in a few hours.
 
Something else exciting will happen, someone
else will do something amazing, and all the attention will shift to them.
 
And I can go back to being plain, nerdy,
weird Whitney who goes to work and lives a normal life.
 

Yep.

I pull into my usual parking spot at EM,
right next to Ming’s van.
 
Gather my
things, and climb out.

But when I see the front doors, I
slow.
 
Cause there’s two people just to
the sides of them that I don’t recognize.
 
And I know everyone that works here.

“Whitney Ford!” the woman in the black
pencil skirt says excitedly.
 
“I wondered
if I could ask you a few questions this
morning?
”

“
The
Seattle Journal
would love to run a full story on you and that incredible
video from last night,” another man in a suit says with a blinding smile.

“Uh…” I stumble for words.
 
“I uh…maybe later.
 
Right now, I’m late for work.”

They start firing off questions, even as
I scoot around them carefully, not saying a single word.
 
Carl, the security guy, has to keep them at
bay to prevent them from coming inside.

“Now look what you’ve gone and done,”
Lolita, the woman at the front desk says as she eyes me.
 

“Holy crap,” I huff as I walk past her
and toward my department.

I walk down the hall.
 
And there’s Ming, standing in the doorway of
our room.

“I’ve been trying to call you all
morning,” she hisses at me, letting me squeeze past her.
 
“There’s your face all over the news, all
over online.
 
Everywhere, Whitney!
 
And you don’t say anything to me.
 
And you
so
did do the dirty-dirty with Kale McCain!”

“What are you talking about?” I say as I
set my things down on my desk.
 
“I did
not!”

“There certainly was a lack of clothes
in the pictures!” she accuses.
 
She pulls
out her phone, and two seconds later, flips it around for me to see.

There’s a picture of me, looking
stunned, and in super short shorts.
 
And Kale behind me.
 
In all his mostly naked glory, looking ticked as he tries to slam the
door closed.

“We didn’t,” I breathe.
 
I take the phone from her to get a better
look.
 
“I swear.
 
Holy crap…this is insane!”

“You’re everywhere, Whitney!” Ming says
as she takes her phone back.
 
“Facebook,
Twitter, YouTube!
 
That
video of you singing.
 
Everyone’s
talking about you and Kale.
 
There’s already
whole Tumblr accounts devoted to you and him, speculating if you’re going to be
the next big power couple.”