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I turn away from him and glance around the room. All eyes are on Andrew except his wife. Lauren’s staring at Kincaid and me, chewing on her bottom lip.
I can’t help but wonder again what’s up with these two. The more I push it to the back of my mind, the more it pops up again, forcing me to turn it over like a puzzle.
Kincaid scoots toward the edge of his seat as the other team gets closer to guessing the clues that Andrew is acting out. I glance at Lauren again, and her attention is focused completely on her husband now, as is everyone else’s.
I take the time to look at Kincaid. He’s not a big man, but he is tall and toned. His body is like that of a runner’s. His jaw and top lip are shaded with dark, chestnut brown hair, and his carefully mussed hair has that just-been-fucked carefree appearance.
From looking into them just minutes ago, I know his eyes are a cerulean blue. He’s a beautiful man and reminds me of the models you see in Tom Ford ads. Striking. Handsome. Debonair. Smooth as hell.
The cologne he wore earlier was crisp, clean, and understated with bergamot, wood, and leather notes. Now he smells as if he just stepped out of the shower, although at least an hour and a half has passed since he first disappeared into his bedroom.
His shampoo, soap, and natural scent combine to make a clean, sexy fragrance.
“What was it?” I hear Lauren groan, and I know that they have passed their time limit. Her husky voice drags me from my thoughts, and I see the sour look on Andrew’s face.
“Miracle on 34thStreet,” Andrew replies, glancing over at me before Stacey takes on a sheepish look.
“Why didn’t I know that?” she asks. “That’s my fave movie!”
“Because Andrew’s a horrible actor,” Shepherd teases.
“Everyone can’t be like his mother,” Lauren says, and Andrew shoots her a withering look, which has her pouting.
“Your turn,” Kincaid says, looking back at me where I’ve leaned further into the loveseat.
I knew my turn would eventually come, and I’m not as comfortable with this group as the rest. In fact, I’d like to bring as little attention to myself as possible. That went out the door the moment that I agreed to go on the trip, but it was something that I needed to do.
Coming across the country to Utah wouldn’t be something anyone would expect from me, but it suits my purposes.
I get up off the loveseat tugging my tee down just a little longer to hide my ass. At five-six and one-hundred-fifteen pounds, I’m not a big woman, but somebody forgot to tell my breasts and ass that. They both seek to outdo each other in getting attention.
“I hope your acting skills suck,” Andrew says good-naturedly, causing everyone to laugh.
“Like yours, dude?” Shepherd teases.
“Her ideas are a bitch,” Andrew complains, and everyone laughs again.
I reach into the other team’s container, pull out a clue, and read it. A smirk forms on my lips.
I hold up four fingers.
“Four words!” Denise says.
I nod and hold up one finger. “First word,” Tyler says.
Tapping one finger against my forearm, I look at my team. “One syllable,” Denise calls out.
At my encouraging nod and cupping my hand around my ear, Kincaid says, “Sounds like....”
Cupping one hand around the other, I take a golfing stance and position the imaginary golf club between my feet before striking at the invisible ball.
“Golf!” Kincaid shouts out.
Pointing at him, I nod.
They start guessing several things, but they’re all wrong, so I move on, placing my hands on my head in a triangle to form a little hat and begin placing little items from the room underneath the large, white, chicly decorated Christmas tree.
“Elf!” Denise hollers out.
