Page 9 of Played By Design

His lips twitch. “Bunny.”

I hop in front of him. “Hot and cold in every bite⁠—”

He pinches my lips closed with a growl. “Don’t make me regret bringing you here.”

Two men come out of the fast-food joint. Their steps slow on the way to their pickup truck, their heads swinging toward us. Alphas.

Kain’s arm hooks around my shoulders, and he draws me to his side.

I go still.

“So, tell me about your new garden,” he says, glaring at the Alphas to keep moving. “What are you going to plant?”

“Eggplants,” I say, leaning into his side. His body heat chases away the cold.

He rubs his cheek over the top of my head. “Why eggplants?”

“They sell for the most, but they take four days to grow, so I don’t want to use my primary garden. That’s for the livestock and neighbor chores. But I need a cash crop so I can upgrade my house.”

“Sounds like a solid plan.”

“The seeds are expensive, so I can only buy a few to start, but once the first crop grows, I’ll be able to purchase twice as many. It should only take a week to afford the kitchen upgrade.”

“What do you get by upgrading the kitchen?”

“Two stove tops, so I can cook my meals and quest meals at the same time.”

“As long as this keeps you out of the kitchen in real life, I approve.” His thumb rubs my arm. “No catching the house on fire again.”

“That was only three times.”

He pinches my side, and I jump. “That’s enough to be a habit.”

“Forty-two!” The call comes from the to-go window.

Kain releases me to collect our order, returning with a brown paper bag and a drink carrier.

In the cardboard tray, the vanilla soft serve and hot fudge sit in one cup. Beside it, a second container holds the golden, extra-crispy fries.

Perfect.

He hands me the carrier. “Careful. It’s heavy.”

I take it with both hands, holding it like the prize it is.

His small fry sits in the paper bag. We walk back to the car, and I climb into the passenger seat with my treasure balanced on my knees.

Kain sets his to-go bag on the cup holder and starts the engine. With a check of his rearview mirror, he pulls out of the lot and turns toward the Blue Note. The headlights cut a path through the darkness.

I open the lid of my sundae. A swirl of smooth, white soft serve sits under a dark pool of fudge sauce. I pick up a fry, dip it into the ice cream, and take a bite.

The salt and sweet hit at the same time. The fry crackles between my teeth, still warm, and the cold soft serve melts on my tongue.

I wiggle and moan with pleasure.

Kain smirks. “Good?”

“Amazing.”