Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
“T hanks for doing this today.”
Ainsley glanced at the man beside her near the back entrance of her apartment building’s lobby. This, their first “official” date, was a kind of taster, a tease, to prove to those stirred up by the media storm that their hand-holding at the café was actually “true.”
Zac shrugged. “I had the time. I was planning a run around the park anyway.”
She held her bike steady. “So the fact it’s a bike ride and not a run is okay?”
“Sure. If it helps you.”
It would help sell the story, anyway. Rosie had suggested a few “accidental” meetings, just to fuel the speculation. Holding hands in a café was one thing. Attending a function together said another. There needed to be something in between to maintain the illusion they just might be dating, and keep the guessing games alive. Hence a bike ride around Stanley Park, where they may or may not be seen together. But given the interest, she was counting on a definite yes.
If nothing else, it might give her some more insights into this man she was supposed to be fake-dating for the next three months. Apart from the fact that a white tee and long black shorts did a lot to showcase his muscles.
“Okay, so you’ll go first,” she gestured to him and his fancy bike that looked three times the cost of hers, “and I’ll meet you outside the Nature House soon, at the top part.”
“You’ll call if there’s a holdup?”
She laughed. “This isn’t As The Heart Draws. I’m not expecting any bank robbers on the bike path today.”
His lips curved, like he thought she was funny, which made her heart glow a little. “See you soon.”
“Bye.”
Aww. It almost felt like they were a couple. She watched as he exited through the back entrance of her apartment building, just as they’d arranged. She’d noticed a few photographers out the front, which if they spotted him would’ve given the game away. So meeting at the back, away from prying eyes, made more sense.
She hoped today would go as Rosie imagined. Today’s unusually sunny skies at least would make biking a pretty trip. And while she should probably be learning her new lines for the Christmas mysteries shoot, spending time doing this felt like it would be a lot more fun. And the fact that Zac agreed to it proved his good guy status again.
After the requisite five minutes, she wheeled her bike to the back entrance, where Michael opened the door for her. “Thank you.”
The apartment’s doorman was a huge hockey fan and happy to keep their secret, especially when offered a couple of tickets to a game. Zac’s generosity, unnecessary as it was, because Michael was trustworthy as all get-out, had been another nice indication about the man. His request for Michael to call him “Zac” showed his humility. A good man.
She drew down her helmet, propped on her sunglasses—the temperature might be cold, but there was still some glare in the sunny conditions—and after a few wobbles found her biking legs again.
Oh, she loved this. She didn’t go biking nearly as often as she liked. That’s what happened when people recognized her, but also what she was kind of counting on today.
She hadn’t ridden along the Seawall for years, even though it was the city’s most popular cycling path. Six miles of Seawall, it was a beautiful path to ride, almost completely flat, and usually packed with tourists and casual riders. But even though it was a sunny day, the fact it was November, and noon on a weekday, and pretty chilly at only nine Celsius, meant that less tourists would be around so she figured it was a good chance to ride the Seawall and be seen, but not be too seen. It would provide an opportunity for exercise for both of them, because she didn’t want him to feel like he had to change his plans too much, and given the upcoming months would involve lots of rain, as winter always did, the chance to get vitamin D and get out into the fresh air was helpful.
She crossed the last street, and soon found him waiting just above the Nature House, overlooking Lost Lagoon. Well, not waiting like she’d expected. The man was stretching, and it was obvious he was an athlete, as those muscles showed he was very fit indeed. She swallowed. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be recognized, and they’d be busted before they began.
“Ready?” she called. She didn’t want to linger. She was already feeling cool, and had to keep going.
“I’ll catch up.”
“Okay.” That would probably look better anyway.
She cycled through the tunnel under the road heading north out of Vancouver, and pumped the pedals as she turned left to join the path along the Seawall. Cyclists shared this with runners, and the beautiful day meant that there were a few out. Which was good. Someone might recognize them and take their picture, then they could play the game of confirm or deny.
The path led past the Rowing Club, a beautiful brown and white timber building, that possessed an awesome view of the city skyline. Hundreds of boats were moored in this section of Coal Harbour, and on a day like today it was just beautiful. She was so lucky to live here.
“Hey.”
“Oh!” She startled, her bike wobbling, then she corrected. “You found me.”
“Wasn’t hard.” He smiled. “I just had to look for the prettiest bike rider on the path.”
Hmm. Sometimes when he said stuff like that, she wasn’t sure he was taking this friends thing seriously enough. Which meant she would have to work harder to remind him that this was platonic. Unless he was just entering the spirit of their relationship a little more fervently than she’d expected.
“It sure is a beautiful city,” he said, gesturing to the skyline.
She smiled at him. “That’s what I was just thinking.”
The blue skies and buildings were reflected in near-still blue water, the trees holding Fall color adding pops of red and orange to the varying greens. In the distance, the hills and mountains rose majestically. Already, she could see a few topped with snow. But for now, apart from the cold temperatures, and the beanie-wearing walkers, they could almost be in summer.
They passed the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club, and she wondered if he’d ever sailed.
“Do you sail?”
He glanced at her. The path wasn’t quite wide enough to ride two abreast, but in this section, with so few other path users around, they could. “I’m more of a skater than a sailor.”
Even though he had muscles to rival Popeye.
“You?”
“I once acted in a movie set on a yacht, and discovered I am not really a fan of smaller boats.”
Container ships moored in the harbour, waiting to take their goods to faraway lands. Vancouver had long been considered the gateway to Canada’s west, with so many of its natural resources shipped to the rest of the world. And with its location on the Pacific Rim, there was a reason the city’s Chinatown was Canada’s largest.
They passed the military base, and she quickly detoured to take photos of the totem poles, just like any other tourist, then rejoined the path that led around to the lighthouse at Brockton Point. By the time they reached the Girl in Wetsuit statue she was needing a drink, so she paused at the nearby SS Empress of Japan Figurehead replica.
Zac pulled up beside her, drew out his own water bottle. “Doing okay?”
“Yes.” She slurped down her water. “I don’t think we could have a better day.”
“Maybe if it was slightly warmer.”
She eyed his bare legs. “Says the man wearing shorts.”
“I’m used to ice, so this is warmer than my usual.” He eyed her legs, clad in black leggings and Converse high tops, but said nothing.
Her cheeks, already feeling warm from the exercise, might’ve heated a little more. Yes, her attire of black leggings and a pink tee under a white business shirt might look a little odd compared to most athletic wear, but the Lululemon shirt was one of those fancy ones that didn’t crush easily and wicked moisture away, and a girl had to look good. Especially if photos might be taken.
He motioned toward Grouse Mountain. “Ever been up to the top?”
“And seen the bears?”
“I take it that’s a yes.”
“I took the scenic chairlift, not the trail.”
“You missed out.”
“You did the Grouse Grind?”
“All the team’s newbies do it, prospects too. Sorts the men out from the boys.”
“I’m going to guess you are one of the men?”
He cut a look at her, and she laughed.
A woman turned to her, nudged her friend, who drew out her phone and took a few not-so-sneaky snaps.
Looked like the plan was working. “Are you ready to go?” she asked him.
“Lead on.”
She was certain the man could ride rings around her, but she appreciated his willingness to go at her pace. His patience made a nice change to some of the other men she’d dated in the past, and even though this was fake-dating, she appreciated it.
They got back on the path, ignoring the photo-taking women, who were walking, fortunately, so couldn’t chase after them on bikes, and continued up to where the path ran under Lions Gate Bridge. At this time of day, much of this section was shadowed, which made her feel cooler than she’d like. The bridge, like a smaller version of San Francisco’s Golden Gate, was busy at this time of day, and this section underneath was popular with joggers as a resting point. A slight incline took them around to the northern tip of the park, and the sun met them again. By the time they reached Siwash Rock, the rocky outpoint with a tree on top, she was tired, and thinking this mightn’t have been such a good idea after all. She wanted to be seen with him, but not looking like a sweaty mess.
They slowed to go around a tree, and he went first. A couple of female joggers slowed to appreciate him, which she could understand.
But then one of them called something to him, which he ignored. The woman’s companion laughed, laughter that ceased as Ainsley rode past and glanced at them. She gave a small smile, got none in return, which suggested they hadn’t expected Zac to have a female companion. Which was exactly what he’d wanted, right? Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a one-sided arrangement after all.
The path continued, rock faces on one side, blue sea on the other, trees and stretches of sand providing natural respite for city dwellers. Breathing in the beauty, the fresh air, really was respite, too, good for her soul. They passed some dog walkers and she smiled, then she heard an “Ainsley!” but didn’t look back.
“Looks like you’re getting what you wanted,” Zac said.
Looked like they both were. A little bit of notice, enough to confirm some rumors. Enough to stop women hitting on him, enough to salvage her reputation.
They passed a sign pointing to The Teahouse, and she wondered if the man who drank tea had ever dined there.
He slowed, glanced at her, nodded to it. “You been there before?”
“I have. You?”
He smiled. “What do you think?”
“Yes?”
“They have some nice vegetarian options. I might have to take you there one day. If you need an excuse to be seen out on a date with me.”
“That’d be fun. Actually, after all this exercise, I’m a little hungry.”
“You want to stop here for a snack?”
Zac Parotti was the snack.
She blinked. Stop! This was fake-dating. Not real. “Maybe another time.”
“Okay.”
God bless him. The man couldn’t be more obliging.
* * *
This pretending to be her friend thing was killing him. He was doing his best to act like he was cool, but he wasn’t much of an actor, and he wasn’t sure she’d been fooled. It had been nice to have her company, and he’d seen how Ainsley’s presence had stopped most of the usual approaches from random women, apart from the jogger who’d soon stopped when Ainsley had ridden past. If he’d been the jogger and Ainsley had ridden past, he would’ve stopped too. Honestly, it should be illegal for women with legs as great as hers to be wearing long black leggings. It made a man… think things.
And it was made harder when she kept smiling at him, kept dropping crumbs about her life. He really needed to watch some of her movies now. Which was bad, because apart from playing in the same team, he had zero desire to have anything in common with Logan.
“What do you want to do now?” he asked, as they neared the path for Lost Lagoon.
She paused, glanced at him. “Are you hungry? I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before.”
“I could eat.”
“Something healthy, right?”
“Always.”
“Are you vegetarian?”
“Mostly. I’m kind of careful about what I eat.”
She nodded. “Gotta be careful of too many carbs.”
“Yeah, that’s not really my problem.”
“Oh.”
He guessed from that tone that it might be hers. He gestured to the nearby lake. “We could ride that way if you want to get home, or that way, past the golf course if you want the pub.”
Around them, he noticed a couple of people slow, and a teenager take out his phone. “I think you’re getting photographed.”
“I think he’s taking that of you,” she murmured.
Oh. “You, uh, want to make it look like we’re together?”
Her head tilted, then she glanced around. “I’m happy if you want to get a snap.”
“Uh, excuse me, are you Zac Parotti?” the kid asked.
Zac nodded, glanced at Ainsley.
“Go on, Zac. Sounds like you’ve got a fan.” She smiled at him. “I can get a picture of you both together if you like.”
“Would you?” The kid’s eyes were huge.
“Sure.” They propped their bikes up, and she took a few pictures on the kid’s phone, then checked he was happy.
Zac liked how she was so obliging, not diva-like at all. Her easy ways today showed just how wrong he’d been to judge her at the White Night event. Ainsley Beckett was no princess-wannabe, but down to earth.
“Thanks!”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled, took off her helmet, pushed her sunglasses on her head.
“Whoa. I’ve seen you before,” the kid said. “Are you that actress?”
By now a few others had stopped, were looking at them, murmuring among themselves.
Ainsley slipped her hair from her long ponytail, ran a hand through it.
Zac gulped. If he wasn’t aware of people watching them, he’d be sorely tempted to run a hand through her hair too. You’re her friend, remember? “Uh, Ainsley?”
“Ainsley? Ainsley Beckett? And—whoa. Zac Parotti? Are you serious?”
Ainsley turned to Zac. “I don’t know. Are we?”
He was seriously in trouble. Because this fake thing wasn’t working for him.
Ainsley grinned, eyeing him, and inched closer. “What do you say we give them a picture to remember?”
He swallowed as she pushed into his personal space, her chest against his, then wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His hands slid to hold her waist.
She drew closer still, until their noses almost touched, and his gaze fell to her lips. His breathing slowed, as she pushed to her toes. For someone who had said she didn’t want to do hugs, this seemed awfully close. And she was awfully close to getting herself kissed.
His pulse pounded loud in his ears as he breathed in her perfume, waiting, waiting for whatever she’d do next. She was in charge here; he was following her lead. And it looked awfully like she wanted to kiss—
She suddenly pulled back. Stepped away. Put on her sunglasses. Dragged her long hair into a ponytail again. “Well, that was fun.”
He blinked. Pretending they were about to kiss? Just for the sake of a couple of people with their phones?
But as he glanced around, he saw there were a few more than that, maybe closer to a dozen now. Some of whom were women who eyed him with the look he’d seen earlier on the ride. Women who, in the past, would lick their lips and pass him their phone numbers. There’d been hardly any of that today. None at last night’s game. None of that since news of his fake relationship with Ainsley had hit the gossip waves.
Ainsley grinned and glanced around, then said loudly enough so the fans could hear, “The people that you meet, huh?” She pulled on her helmet and collected her bike.
“Ainsley? Can I get a photo?”
“Sure.” She posed for a selfie with a fan. Others were braving up to ask too.
He got his bike, dragged on his helmet. This had the potential to escalate in ways that could get tricky to negotiate if they didn’t leave soon. “Come on, Ains, we need to get back.”
“Oh! Okay, sure.” She waved to a couple of others, like the celebrity she was.
He pedaled away, gesturing for her to take the path that led the longer way around the Lagoon, where less people were likely to be.
By the time they were halfway along North Lagoon Drive, she was puffing. Man, he’d forgotten she wasn’t an athlete. He slowed his pace. “Sorry. I just wanted to get out of there.”
“It got a little wilder than I expected.”
“You might need to expect some people when you return.”
“You think there will be photographers there?”
“Probably.” One hundred percent.
She grinned. “Good. So the plan is working.”
The plan might be working. For her. But he suspected it might be the death of him.