Chapter 44
You’re the first
Harley
With the backseat of his Mercedes filled with bags, courtesy of his Black American Express card, we headed to City Ice Pavilion in Long Island. It’s a perfect spring day, and I can’t wrap my head around the fact I’m about to freeze my ass off inside a rink.
On the upside, if we keep active, there won’t be any downtime for Kaz to interrogate me about my good for nothing family. I dodged a bullet this morning, but I can’t keep being this evasive about my parents and my sister forever. Not while I’m living under his roof.
I sigh, close the locker, hoist my sports bag over my shoulder, and exit the changing room. I turn the corner, and a giant with both fists hooked at his waist awaits me.
I blink.
Whoa.
At six-four, Kaz towers over me, but with skates strapped to his feet, he looks like a freaking skyscraper.
I come to stand in front of him and drop the bag at my feet.
“Give me a twirl,” he says.
I oblige.
“The sight of you in my charity jersey is doing something to me, Goldilocks. You look pretty hot with my name and number on your back.”
I turn around.
His eyes flash with so much desire, it nearly topples me over. “You’re the first woman who gets to wear my jersey.”
“What about all the female fans?”
“I’m always flattered when a fan wears my jersey, but I’ve never offered one to any woman before you.”
Not even Devlyn?
“Not even my ex. Not that it would’ve mattered had I offered, because she would’ve worn her son’s.”
It’s like he can hear my thoughts.
His words cause chaos in my head and in my heart.
They’re too intense for a fake relationship.
I want to lunge at him and kiss the hell out of him for making me feel this desired, but I refrain.
There’s PDA and then there’s too much PDA.
“Enforcers Number 22.” I brandish my fist in the air. “Go, team, go.”
He frowns like a teacher would frown at a student who blurted out the wrong answer.
I dance from one foot to another. “Are you going to help me put my skates on?”
He holds my gaze for a beat and offers a slow nod. “Sure, let’s get you geared up. Sit on that bench over there.”
“Okay.” My eyes drift to the ice. “That’s a lot of people who are going to witness me landing on my ass in an embarrassing way.”
“The rink is practically empty,” he says. “And trust me, all the kids out there landed on their ass first time on the ice.”
“When you’re a kid, you can bounce back from anything. Not the case when you’re an adult.”
He places his hands on my shoulders. “It’s all a mental game, Goldilocks.”
Must work on my mental game, I guess.
I nod and bounce a few times on the bench. “This butt pad is a lot more comfortable than I imagined.”
Kaz kneels at my feet and rummages through my bag. “It’s a godsend for beginners.”
He pulls out elbow pads and hands them to me. I slide them on. Then, he pulls out knee pads and places them on the bench. He removes my Converse and slips on the knee pads. Next, he pulls out the helmet and places it on my head before snapping the strap under my jaw.
“Your joints and ass are protected.” He taps my head. “And this ensures you won’t crack your skull. Nothing ruins a weekend faster than a trip to the ER. Protection is key.”
I square my shoulders and give him a little salute. “Yes, coach.”
He flattens his lips, his expression unamused. “Oh, you’re going to be one of those students.”
I offer an enthusiastic nod. “Definitely.”
He shakes his head, an amused expression twisting his lips. He pulls out the skates, helps them onto my feet and does up the laces.
I stare down at the pretty white skates.
I balked at the outrageous price, but my fake boyfriend had his boss hat on when he insisted there was no way I was going to use the price tag to wiggle out of learning how to skate.
Sheesh.
“Stand up.” Kaz extends a hand.
I do as I’m told.
I walk on the spot. “Okay, I got a feel of what it’s like to wear skates. I don’t need to go on the ice.” And I don’t need to die today.
“Oh, you’re going on the ice.”
I let out a groan.
A mother holding a little boy’s hand approaches. “I’m sorry to interrupt you—and I’m certain I’m wrong—but you look like Kaz Lindstrom. You’re his doppelg?nger, right?”
His baseball cap was a lousy disguise.
The man has the aura of a champion. It’s no surprise people recognize him even though he’s no longer scoring goals.
He straightens up. “You got me.”
The brunette’s eyes widen. She places a hand against her chest and gasps. “My husband and three older boys are your biggest fans. The hubby cried when you retired. Cried. But he was beaming with pride when the NHL retired your number. You’d think he was related to you.” She laughs.
“It was a big day for me,” he says. “The highlight of my career.”
“My little muffin wants to follow in your footsteps.” She tugs on her son’s hand. “Don’t you, Timmy?”
“I’m going to be number twenty-three.” The boy’s eyes light up. “Or twenty-one, or twenty-four, or—”
His mother puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Close to your number,” the little boy, who can’t be older than five says, with a determined nod.
“When I grows up, I wants to be big and tall like you. And I wanna be strong.” He lets out a menacing grunt with accompanying superhero pose.
“And I want all the hockey players to be afraid of me—like you—’cause I’m gonna be the bestest player in all of the world. ”
It’s good to dream big, Timmy.
“Best player in the world, honey,” his mother says.
Timmy punches the air with a tiny fist.
“I have no doubt I’m in the presence of a future Stanley Cup winner,” Kaz says.
“Yep.” Timmy nods. “I’m gonna wins lots, and lots, and lots, and lots of Stanley Cups.”
“I’m going to win a lot.”
“That’s what I said.”
His mother’s attempt at correcting him falls on deaf ears.
I suppress a laugh. This kid is adorable.
“And I’m going to win the Olympics. All the Olympics.”
Timmy has a bright future ahead of him.
The woman shifts her attention away from her son. “I don’t want to sound predictable, but would you mind if I asked for an autograph?”
“Not at all,” Kaz says.
The woman rummages through her handbag and pulls out an envelope and a pen. “I’m sorry. This is all I have.” She hands them to Kaz. “I didn’t know I was going to bump into a hockey legend.”
“That’s fine.” He scribbles his name with a flourish and hands her back the paper and pen.
“You made my day.” She takes the items from him. “Heck, you made my year.” She slides them in her handbag. “Do you mind if I ask for a selfie?”
“Sure,” Kaz says.
“Let me.” I hobble over on my skates, walking not unlike a penguin, and extend a hand.
The woman smiles. “You don’t mind?”
“It would be a pleasure.”
She whips out her phone from the pocket of her jeans.
“Your girlfriend is the prettiest girl ever.” Timmy points at me before peering up at Kaz.
Dear Timmy, I’m his fake girlfriend.
“When I’m a hockey player, I’m gonna have the bestest girlfriend ever, like you.”
“Come on, Timmy.” His mother taps him on his shoulder. “Let’s take a photo. Kaz is spending time with his gorgeous girlfriend, and we’re butting in. We don’t want to abuse his kindness.”
“’Kay.” Timmy turns to face me and flashes a grin that takes over his face, exposing his missing front teeth. Only kids who grew up in a loving household can smile with such levity. Pure joy radiates off this little boy.
You’re lucky, little man.
His mother stands behind him, her shoulders squared, a smile matching her son’s, stretching her lips.
Kaz flips his baseball cap backwards and stares at me.
Why is he frowning? “Kaz, say cheese.”
Timmy tilts his head way back. “You have to says cheese, Kaz. Like this.” He grins wide.
“Like this?” Kaz flashes some teeth.
“Bigger.” Timmy pulls at the corners of his lips with his fingers. “You got to shows all the teeth.”
“I see.” Kaz winks.
Timmy giggles.
“Okay, gang, let’s try that again,” I say. “Say cheese.”
Kaz flashes a radiant smile at the camera that melts my panties.
Wow.
I take a flurry of photos from different angles.
Before handing the woman’s phone back, I grab my phone from my bag.
“Do you mind if I Airdrop these photos to my phone? I’m Mr. Lindstrom’s social manager, and these photos would be amazing on his socials, with your permission to use them, of course. ”
“Oh my God. Of course you can use them. Hubby will be thrilled. It would be an honor,” the woman says. “Oh, and I am sorry. I thought you were his girlfriend.”
“That’s my second job.” I wink. And here I go selling the lie to one of Kaz’s fans.
She laughs. “Pretty and funny. You lucked out, Kaz. I guess hockey players have their pick of the best of the bunch.”
Sorry to burst your bubble, lady, but it’s all smoke and mirrors.
When I’m done, I hand her back her phone. “Will you attend the upcoming charity hockey fundraiser?”
“Go, Enforcers!” Timmy yells and punches his little fist in the air.
His mother pulls him close. “It’s a little bit of a challenge for us. My husband works on weekends, but we’ve been donating every year. I know how charitable Kaz is—another feather in his cap—”
“What feather in his cap means?”
“An achievement someone can be proud of, Timmy. Like when you get an A on your report card or when you hit a home run at T-ball.”
He nods. “I wants all the feathers in my cap.”
We laugh.
Even the grumpy hero doesn’t hold back a chuckle.
“We might not be there in person, but will be there in donation,” the woman says. “We don’t have millions, but every little bit counts, right?”
I nod. “Absolutely.”
“Thank you again. This was such a thrill,” she says. “We’re going to go now.” Her eyes meet mine. “You’re really good at your job. You’re so passionate about it.”
“I have a pretty amazing boss.”
Kaz clears his throat.
Timmy stares up. “Will you be my boss when I grows up, Kaz?”
He lowers to his haunches. “I thought you wanted to be the best hockey player in the world.”
Timmy scratches the side of his head. “Oh, yeah.”
“It’s okay. You can grow up to be anything you want.
You can become the greatest hockey player in the world, and then, if you want to come and work for me, we can talk about it, but I suspect once you hang up your skates, you might be ready to be the boss instead of working for a boss. ” He ruffles Timmy’s hair.
The boy nods. “I’m gonna be like you.”
Kaz stands up, removes his charity jersey that matches mine, and hands it to the kid. “A little something to help you with your goal of becoming the greatest hockey player ever.”
Timmy’s eyes are so wide, they take over his face. He stares up at his mom. “Can I have it?”
His mom nods and caresses his forehead, brushing away the dark brown strands. “Kaz is giving you a gift. And what do we say when nice people give us gifts?”
The little boy’s head whips around. “Thanks, Kaz. You’re the bestest. I’m never gonna take this off.”
With that, the woman and her little boy saunter off, waving one last time at his hero.
Kaz winks.
My ovaries.
The brooding giant is great with kids.
Despite the lousy example he has as a father, I’m certain he’ll be a great dad. He’s attentive. Caring. Kind. Overprotective. A grizzly bear with a soft heart. What’s there not to love?
Don’t be stupid. Don’t go catching feelings for a man you can’t have.
If I wasn’t damaged goods, I might’ve been the kind of woman he’d want as the mother of his kids.
Why would he want criminals as in-laws?
“I’m sorry, Kaz,” a woman says, interrupting my spiraling thoughts.
We turn around.
Our interaction drew a crowd, and a procession of people line up for autographs and selfies.
Half an hour later, the last happy fan disperses, leaving behind them an electrifying buzz in the air.
Number 22 for life.
Kaz’s fans adore and admire him. It must be quite an amazing feeling to have people look up to you like that.
The elation on both the kids’ and their parents’ faces at being in the presence of a hero is transcendental.
So many of these people were aware of the Born to Wear Blue charity.
What Kaz is doing is commendable, and I get to be part of it.
He has so much influence, clout, and respect.
I’m part of something meaningful.
Satisfaction buzzes through me like an electric current.
Through my new position, I’m doing something that will have a positive impact on the lives of so many New Yorkers. Men and women in blue protect us from the bad guys—people like my family who will never lose sleep over screwing people out of their hard-earned money.
I’m not like them.
I’m not like them.
I’m not like them.
A hand drops on my shoulder, and I jump.
“Hey, you okay?” Kaz jars me out of my thoughts.
No. “Yes.” I force a smile.
“I’m not comfortable with the grinning or small talk, but I always make time for fans.”
He’s mistaking my smile for what it really is, a shield to hide my real identity.
“They supported me when I was playing, and now they support my charity. I’d never turn them down.”
He has such appreciation for people.
“Well, all these photos are going to keep me busy tomorrow at work.”
“I’m impressed,” he says.
I tilt my head to the side. “Impressed?”
“It’s a weekend, you’re not on the clock, but you were all business there.”
“You have no idea how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. It doesn’t bother me one bit to take photos with your fans on a Sunday to share on your socials. Plus, I was able to remind all those fans about the fundraiser.” I lift my hands up. “Talk about double duty.”
He chuckles.
“All right, my work here is done.” I rub my hands together. “Let’s go back to your place.” I make to turn around.
He clamps a hand on my arm. “Not so fast, Goldilocks. Our start time might’ve been delayed, but you’re getting that sweet ass of yours on the ice.”
Crap.