Page 36 of Power Play

Her laugh echoes through the stairwell, announcing our return, and our guests turn to look at us. Riley skids to a stop, and I nearly run into her. My hand falls to her waist, steadying myself. The heat of her skin radiates through her simple T-shirt, and my palm itches to touch her bare skin.

That’s a weird thought to have about my wife. I’ve been doing a decent job of tamping down my attraction to her, but I’m terrified one of these days I’ll say the wrong thing and make her uncomfortable. Our marriage works because it’s a business arrangement, purely platonic; the last thing I want is for her to think I’m pressuring her into taking it to another level. I’m fine with things the way they are. I’m happy.

Mostly.

“What’s up?” I whisper, as my gut coils with tension.

She shakes her head, walking down the last two steps. After a few moments, chatter resumes as everyone goes back to ignoring us. Riley strides through the party to the kitchen, and I do my best to keep with her rapid pace. Maybe I should have asked my wife if inviting everyone over was a good idea. I wanted to make her feel like part of the team, like she’s one of us now. They’re my family as much as my siblings are.

Riley attempts to make a bottle one-handed. Without asking, I scoop Emmy into my arms, and my wife gives me a whisper of a smile. Maybe she’s not as pissed at me as it seems. My heart picks up speed, and I distract myself by dancing with the baby, twirling her around and around while she shrieks with giggles.

“You’re good at this,” Mitchell says from behind me, and I turn to face him. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He gives me a nod as he stares at Emmy, an inscrutable expression on his face. “When you said you had a kid you didn’t know about, I wasn’t sure what to think. Seeing you with her… it’s like you were made to be her dad.”

Riley hands me the bottle and I adjust my hold on Emmy, tilting her at the right angle. Her little hands clutch at the bottle as she suckles at the plastic nipple.

“Best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I tell him, my attention stuck on my wife as she puts away the can of formula.

Footsteps announce the arrival of another person, and I turn to see Bex approaching, two empty bottles of wine in her hand.

“Riley, do you have—” She stops, her gaze falling to Mitchell. Anger clouds her face in an instant. “What the hell are you doing here, Nick? Why don’t you go back to New Orleans and ruin someone else’s day?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he snaps, his entire body coiled with tension. He looks like an animal backed into a corner, ready to lash out and attack to defend himself.

“Fuck you.” She hands Riley the empty bottles. “I’m out. See you at the game.”

“Coming to watch me play?” Mitchell smirks, his dark eyes bright with a challenge.

“Not on your life.” With that, she spins on her heels and stalks out.

I don’t miss the way Mitchell’s gaze lingers on her ass as she grabs her purse and coat before wrenching open the front door and disappearing.

“What’s that about?” Riley asks.

He drains his beer and tosses it into the nearby recycling bin. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing.” Raising my eyebrows, I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t say anything. “You two have history?”

“Something like that,” he mutters. He grabs a bottle of Gatorade off the table, cracking the lid and taking a gulp. “Cute kid. I’m leaving.”

“You can’t go after Bex. She’ll kill you.”

“Why would I go after her?” He snorts. “I don’t hate myself that much.”

Emmy finishes her bottle, and I hoist her onto my shoulder to burp her. Riley tucks a cloth under her face, her fingers brushing the nape of my neck, and a shiver zaps through me.

A few good pats later, Emmy is content again, and I shove her into Mitchell’s arms.

“Here, hold the baby,” I say. “It’ll make you feel better.”

His eyes widen with alarm. “I—I can’t. I’ll drop her.”

My hands on his upper back, I steer him into a nearby chair, and he sinks into it automatically. I adjust his hold on Emmy, who giggles with delight at a new face. She claps her hands on his bearded cheeks, and he flinches.

“Feel better?” I ask with a smirk.

There’s still a line of tension in his shoulders, but the anger on his face has receded.

“I’m fine,” he snaps. Emmy squeals happily and his dark eyes soften. “She is pretty cute.”

“She’s fucking adorable. Doesn’t it make you want one of your own?”

Mitchell laughs. “Yeah, no. Not interested.”