Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
A insley glanced around her dining table, found her courage and a smile. “Thank you all for coming at such short notice. I just wanted to explain a few things about me and Zac.”
“Oh, Ainsley, I still can’t believe it.” Mom’s shining eyes said she wanted to, though.
“You and hockey’s All-Star MVP? I can’t believe it either,” her dad said.
Good. Because there wasn’t anything real to believe. She glanced at her parents, Mack, and Emmett, all here tonight. She glanced at Emmett. “This is not for you to share, okay?”
“Honey, my lips are sealed.” He mimed a zipped lip and thrown key.
“They better be.” She pointed two fingers at her eyes then pointed at him, then turned to her parents. Here went nothing…
“So Rosie told me I needed to be seen in a long-term relationship. She said it wasn’t looking good for my career to be on a series of dates all the time, that I was getting a bit of a Taylor Swift reputation.”
“Honey, we’ve told you this a hundred times,” her mother said.
“I know.” But there was a world of difference between paying attention to her family and taking advice from someone considered an industry expert. Someone who had pretty much taken on Ainsley’s publicity as well as her agenting role because she believed in her so much. Other agents didn’t do that, she knew.
“I don’t know why you put so much stock in what she says,” Mack complained.
“How about because she’s steered my career so well so far?”
“So far.” He shrugged. “But you need to be careful not to let yourself be stymied.”
“I’m not stymied.” Not going to admit it here, anyway. “Anyway, back to Zac.”
“Yes, let’s get back to him.” Emmett rubbed his hands.
Her father rolled his eyes, shifting his body so he wouldn’t see the man his son had brought to dinner.
“She’s concerned that I’m getting a reputation and wants me to find someone to act as my boyfriend.”
“Oh, Ainsley.”
She hurried past her mother’s look of disappointment. “She offered to find me someone and I didn’t want to do that. I wanted a Christian guy”—she ignored her brother’s huff—“because I thought that at least I might have him treat me with a little more respect than some of the guys out there who, let’s be frank, are a little handsy at times. So when I met Zac at the White night, he seemed nice, and I found out he’s a Christian—”
“He is?”
She nodded. “And anyway, he’s agreed to pretend to be my boyfriend for the next three months.”
“What?”
“Why would you do that?” her mother asked.
“Why wouldn’t he date you for real?” her dad asked, sounded offended on her behalf.
“I don’t want to date him for real,” she insisted. Even though yesterday’s bike ride had been fun. “I’m too busy for a real relationship, anyway, and I suspect he is too. I just want someone I can show up for events with who won’t ask me for anything, who will just be there.”
“So you want something like a handbag, except a man,” Mack said.
“That doesn’t sound very nice,” she said.
“But it’s what you are doing. Wow.” He whistled. “Gotta say, he might be a hot hockey player, but I’m losing respect for the man. Why would he agree to do this?”
“He’s got his reasons.” Which weren’t so clear right now. “But anyway, you’ll probably see some things reported—” She swiveled a look at Emmett.
He held up his hands. “But not by me. Well, I’ll only say what you want me to say.”
“Thank you. If that’s the case, then you can just say something like ‘a source close to Ainsley said the rumors regarding a relationship can be confirmed.’ That’s all that needs to be said right now.”
Mack snickered. “You want him to confirm that there are rumors—because it’s true that there are actually rumors?”
“Exactly.” She smiled.
Emmett laughed. “Oh, you may act sweet, but you can be devious, can’t you?”
She sighed. “I’m not trying to be devious. Just trying to figure out how to be honest without being too honest, if you know what I mean.”
“When do we get to meet him?” her dad asked.
“When his schedule allows. He’s pretty busy.”
“As are you,” her mom said.
“Exactly. So it’s like I said: we don’t have time for a real relationship, even if we wanted one. Which we don’t ,” she emphasized, cutting off that look of speculation in her mother’s eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t?” Mack asked.
“I’m positive.”
“He is handsome. Not as handsome as you, obviously,” Emmett said to Mack, which drew his wry lips.
“What about Zac?” Dad asked, as if determined to ignore Emmett, and focused on making a match of his daughter and his favorite hockey player. “Are you sure he feels the same way?”
“Absolutely. He’s told me that.”
“Yes, but we all know people don’t always say what they mean, don’t we, Ainsley?” Mack said.
“He’s told me that,” she repeated. “And I believe him.”
Emmett laughed.
“What?”
He smiled. “I’m going to guess that not all the acting is coming from the actress.”
“You’re wrong,” she said flatly.
“Hmm. We’ll see.”
She didn’t hear from Zac for a few days. Not that she was expecting anything. This wasn’t real, so there was no need for communication between them unless there was something to communicate. Besides, he had games, and while she’d had fun stirring the pot with the bike ride, she didn’t want to fuel the “rumors” in social media land by appearing at one of his games just yet. There’d be plenty of time for that. Three months, at least. If he kept his side of the bargain.
Then, after a too-long day at work, she arrived home to discover that Rosie had sent an invitation for Ainsley to attend a fundraiser at the Vancouver Aquarium, with a note: “It’ll be good for your PR.”
And while she was never a fan of a last-minute invitation—apparently Blake Lively couldn’t go—Ainsley liked fish well enough, and it might help appease some of those still upset about her feather dress to show she supported creatures with fins as well as feathers. Heaven forbid she ever wore fur.
She checked Zac’s game schedule, saw he was free, then messaged him. Hey Zac. How do you feel about fish?
His message came back almost like he’d been waiting by the phone. Do you mean eating or catching them?
She smiled. Neither , she tapped out.
Sure enough, her phone started buzzing. She pressed speaker. “Hi there.”
“Fish?”
She laughed. “You’re so direct.”
“Not always.”
Hmm. She wondered what he wasn’t direct about. But considering it was late, she should probably just get to the point. “So, I was wondering how you’d feel about accompanying me to a fundraising gala at the Vancouver Aquarium on Friday night.”
“This Friday?”
“Next Friday. I’ve checked the schedule. You don’t have a game.”
A beat passed. “Is this an important fundraiser?”
“It is if you care about dolphins and whales.”
He snickered. “I don’t think you’re allowed to live in BC unless you do, right?”
“Right.”
“What’s involved?”
She told him, explaining how it would be good for her personal PR to be seen supporting an environmental cause. “Especially after Feather-gate.”
“Feather-gate?”
“My dress at the White Night.”
“Which you looked beautiful in, by the way.”
Aww. “That’s very kind of you. But it showed me that feathers are a red flag to a lot of people out there.”
“That’s almost enough for me to wear feathers myself.”
She laughed. “Don’t you dare.” Although the fact he’d said that was kind of sweet. “So, anyway, the fundraiser. Can you come? If not, that’s okay, I can go by myself. But it would be nice if you were free and you wanted to come.”
“Do they have food at these kinds of things?”
“Probably not enough to fill a hungry hockey man’s tummy.”
“That’s not the way to get me to come,” he complained.
“Oh.” Disappointment crowded her chest. “Okay.”
“Wait, I’m not saying no. I’ll say yes, as long as we can go somewhere else after to eat.”
“You want to pull a Julia Roberts and hit a burger joint after the show?”
“Who?”
“Are you serious? Julia Roberts. She’s acting royalty.”
He laughed. “I know who she is. And no, I don’t do burgers. Something healthier, maybe.”
“That’d be good.” Although it had been forever since she’d had a good burger. But then, as Rosie always said, burgers didn’t help an actress’s bottom line, or her stomach or thigh lines, either. “Hey, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Oh, and before I forget, can you just say ‘hey, want to hang out with me at the Aquarium next Friday night?’”
“Seriously?”
“Just say it,” she begged.
So he did. Proving himself to be a good sport. God bless him.
“Thanks. Now if anyone asks, we can just say you asked me out and we’re hanging out together.”
“Because you made me say that? I’m not sure it works that way, Ainsley.”
“I’m pretty sure it does.”
He chuckled.
He had a nice laugh. “Hey Zac, thank you. It’ll be good to see you again.”
He paused. Then said, “It’s what I signed up for, remember?”
* * *
He had not signed up for this.
Zac swallowed as Ainsley smiled at the doorman and moved to Zac’s new model Porsche. He hurried around to open the door, wanting to touch her, knowing he shouldn’t. And he’d thought seeing Ainsley Beckett in leggings was bad. Seeing her in a slinky black dress was not good for a man’s imagination. And it didn’t matter how long he’d been a Christian.
“You look nice.” That was safe, wasn’t it? Innocuous enough? Something a friend would say, anyway.
“Thanks. You look good, too.”
“This old thing?” He gestured to his suit. He might need to get a few more, lean on his bespoke suits tailor sponsorship if he was going to be out as much as she seemed to expect.
“You look perfect.” She smiled up at him as he closed the door.
Perfect? He still had a long way to go to wrestle these feelings into line when she looked at him and said things like that. Friendly. Be her friend. That was all.
He heaved out a frosted breath as he moved to the driver’s side. Vancouver had gotten cold. And sure, it might never reach the lows experienced by Canadian cities further east, but it felt plenty cold to be out tonight. He didn’t know how she managed with no sleeves. Again. Something he could ask, perhaps. Seeing they were friends, after all.
He got in, started the engine. Tried to ignore how her perfume filled the small space.
“Ooh, fancy car. It sounds like a spaceship.”
“It gets me where I need to go.”
She smoothed a hand over the red leather. “It’s very nice.”
“Glad you approve.”
He drove the short distance to Stanley Park, then through the park, along the tree-lined roads he’d biked and run along many times before. He turned where the road led to tonight’s venue, the Aquarium, that had been threatened with closure after the pandemic affected its visitor numbers. Now, it was looking refreshed, although still in need of money. And while he cared about animals as much as the next person, he preferred his personal charitable contributions to go toward supporting people, such as the domestic violence charity of White Night. Not that he’d say anything like that tonight.
He parked. Thank goodness they’d soon be exiting, and he could escape the perfume that had filled his senses the second she’d gotten in. He got out then opened her door, helping her to stand, and she smiled and thanked him. His chest thudded. “Are you cold?”
“The price of beauty.”
“Do you want my jacket?” he asked.
“I’m okay at the moment, but thank you.”
“You let me know. I don’t want to look like a bad boyfriend or anything.”
She smiled. “Now, speaking of that, you’re happy if we play it coy?”
“Like the fish?” he joked.
“Ooh, look who’s witty.”
“Plenty more bad jokes where that came from.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
He laughed. “Wow. You’re harsh.”
“Sorry. I forgot. It just sounded like something my brother would say.”
See, a good reminder, after those comments about him looking good before. She only thought of him only in a brotherly way. “Your brother?”
She nodded. “Mack. Works in theater design.”
“Huh. I’ll have to meet him one day. I bet he’s got plenty of interesting stories to tell.”
“Oh, he does.” They reached the entrance, and she turned to him and murmured, “We’re going for subtle, yes? We’re only friends who are hanging out, right?”
Only friends. Remember? Even if that near-kiss moment the other day hadn’t felt like something friends would do. “We’re just hanging out.”
She nodded, her smile broadening as she was waved to.
“Ainsley!”
“Excuse me,” she murmured, leaving him in the line.
He watched as she moved to a young family, with two little girls and a baby, and caught how her expression changed into something more tender, as she stroked the newborn’s head. Huh. Maybe she wanted to be a mom. Which seemed tricky for someone who played characters who were always falling in love yet never experiencing romance beyond a movie-ending kiss. But that was a conversation best saved for a few months’ time. If they made it that long.
“Zac Parotti?”
He turned and made small talk with a fan, which quickly turned into small talk with several fans, none of whom asked about Ainsley. Maybe they’d get away with no lies tonight. Especially after her “hanging out” instructions from before.
She rejoined him, her eyes aglow, and it was all he could do not to hug her. He clenched his fingers. Relaxed them.
“Are you okay?” Her forehead was puckered.
“Yep.” He nodded to the fans behind. “Had a nice chat about how the Canucks are travelling this season.”
“How are they travelling? In a plane?”
“Well, look whose jokes are as bad as mine.”
She smirked.
He angled closer. “But just a heads-up, you’re gonna have to do better than that and pretend you know something about hockey at least.”
“I do know something.”
“What?”
“That you’re an excellent player.”
Gratification filled his chest. “You’ve seen a game?”
“A time or two. On TV.”
“Hmm. You might need to actually come to one to convince anyone that you’re my girlfriend.”
“Shh, not so loud.”
“Come on.” He bent his lips near her ear. “You’re going to have to do something to prove that we’re more than friends.”
She shivered. “Fine.”
“Here.” He shrugged from his jacket and wrapped it around her.
“Thank you.” She smiled up at him, that same smile that grasped him around the heart and squeezed.
This pretending business was so much harder than he’d thought.
How was he going to get through tonight? The rest of this year? The next three months? What was it that Chris had said? That’s right. He needed to pray.
Lord, help me treat her as a friend. Just a friend. Help me not notice her smile, or her perfume, or her laugh. Help me be the person she needs me to be.
“Ainsley!” A TV reporter drew them to one side. “Ainsley, you’re here with Zac Parotti. You two are certainly looking cozy. So, the rumors around you two?”
Zac kept his expression neutral, waiting to follow Ainsley’s lead.
She smiled. Clutched Zac’s arm. He moved his hand to her back to steady her. “We’re glad to be here tonight to help raise money for the Aquarium.”
“Zac, I suppose you should be supporting whales, seeing you’re a fan of orcas.”
A reference to Vancouver’s logo emblazoned across their jerseys. “I’m a huge fan, actually.”
“A huge fan of Ainsley’s too?”
“Sure.”
She nudged him.
“That is, we’re friends. That’s all.”
“It’s a mutual appreciation society,” Ainsley said, squeezing his bicep. “I, like all of Vancouver, am a big fan of the man who got us the Stanley Cup.”
“It’s always a team effort,” he chipped in. Always was, always would be. No man lifted that trophy alone.
“Well, it’s good to see you both here. Have fun tonight.”
“Thanks.”
He plastered a smile on his dial that felt as fake as the reporter’s looked, and entered the function area, which had been decorated in an under-the-sea theme, complete with blue lights and glittering silver-strewn blue drapes he guessed were meant to represent water, the bright splashes of color likely meant to be coral. “Huh. Impressive.”
A waitress approached with a tray of hors d’oeuvres, and he looked for the option that appeared healthiest. He didn’t like to be the person who was all fussy, asking about ingredients, but he didn’t train as hard as he did to have it fall apart through poor food choices.
“You okay?” he asked Ainsley, when she let the waitress pass by.
She nodded, her gaze wistful.
“Do you want me to call her back?”
“No.” She sighed.
“Did you eat before you came?” That would’ve been the smart thing to do.
“No. I should’ve, but I didn’t.”
“Then…?”
“The food looked nice, but I can’t have any.”
“Why? Are you allergic to seafood?”
“No. Well, maybe my agent thinks so.”
“Huh?”
“I see food and I want to eat it—”
He smiled at her dumb joke.
“—but I can’t afford to.”
“Because?”
“Because the camera adds ten pounds.”
“You can afford to add ten pounds.”
Her forehead creased. No Botox there. Unlike some women he’d known. “Are you saying I’m too skinny?”
“You look perfect. But if perfect means you’re always hungry, then that’s not a healthy way to be, so that’s not perfect, is it?”
“I’m fine.” She turned and lifted a hand, then moved off to air-kiss a friend, leaving him to make small talk about hockey with some company director he couldn’t recall meeting, who apparently remembered him from some hockey meet and greet last year.
And while he did his best to follow the conversation, his gaze kept track of Ainsley. He noticed how she might pick up a canapé but never eat it, passing it on to the next waiter in a napkin, with what looked like an apology and a smile. It was enough to make him wonder more about her eating habits, and whether there were some cracks behind the perfect picture she liked to portray. And if there were cracks, then what other secrets might this beautiful clever actress keep tucked away?