Chapter 12
TWELVE
HENRY
CAT GOT YOUR TONGUE?
Kennedy looked so fucking pretty when she was flustered.
The way she unthinkingly gnawed her bottom lip, her heaving chest betraying the cool demeanor she was trying so hard to maintain.
She’d always been quick with her witty comebacks, which made needling her all the more fun, but the satisfaction that flowed through me at the stunned look on her face was pretty fucking epic, too.
“Cat got your tongue?” I tsked. “Interesting. Very interesting.”
Did I lie? No. It was the honest-to-God truth. But did I have to go and say it out loud? Jeez. My filter around this woman was seriously lacking.
She snapped out of her hazy gaze and blurted, “We need some ground rules.”
I frowned. “What?”
She nodded as she reached for her salad bowl and started eating. A painful silence stretched between us as I patiently waited for her to finish her thought.
She shifted in her seat and faced me. Her knee brushed my thigh slightly, and the movement alone had me like a dog panting for more attention. Hell. If I ever had the chance to see her bare legs, I knew I was going to combust. “Yeah, some ground rules for this fake dating thing.”
“What we need are acting classes,” I retorted with a laugh.
“You did just fine at the meeting. What the hell are you talking about?”
I rolled my lips to keep my grin in check. “I meant for you. You’re a shit actress.”
“Excuse me if not everyone can go through life lying through their teeth,” she bit out.
While I knew she didn’t mean anything by it, because she couldn’t possibly know how true that statement was, the jab still left a mark.
I let people believe what they wanted because it was easier to let them form their own opinions than shine a light on the ugly truth. Giving attention to the core of the problem would only hurt people I cared about.
“What are these rules you’re talking about?” I asked, trying to deter the conversation. I needed to get out of the gloomy, lingering thoughts that constantly haunted me.
She counted on her fingers as she rattled off the list without a pause. “No flirting, no kissing, no sex—”
“Whoa, hey.” I raised my hands and gripped her forearms softly, interrupting her. “How do you expect we sell this, then?”
“What do you mean?”
“When we’re in public, we’re going to have to act like a couple. That includes flirting and kissing.”
She grazed the top of her teeth with her tongue in contemplation. “I guess you have a point. But”—she pointed a finger at me—“none of that while we’re behind doors. Only when the situation calls for it.”
I quirked a brow. “Afraid you’ll like it too much?”
“More like trying to avoid the way you’ll inevitably fall in love with me, pretty boy.” The way her eyes sparkled with amusement had my heart stammering wildly. My heart wanted to leap out of my chest and serve itself on a silver platter before her.
I liked mean and serious Kennedy a lot, but fun and playful Kennedy was someone I found myself being attracted to just as much.
“You sound so sure of yourself.” I rested my elbows on the island and gave her a once-over. Even in basic, staying-in type clothes, she managed to be devastatingly beautiful.
She flipped her curls, and a whiff of her coconutty shampoo hit my nose. Of course, her shampoo also had to smell intoxicatingly good. The way my brain committed the smell to memory in excruciating detail should have been alarming.
“Confidence is practically my middle name, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Oh, trust me, I haven’t forgotten. It’s one of your best traits,” I replied honestly.
“You’re flirting again.”
“Am I?” I asked innocently.
“Yes,” she drawled.
I scrubbed my jaw. “Hm.”
“What?”
I shifted in my chair and twirled a piece of her beautiful chestnut curls around my index finger.
“Let’s get one thing clear,” I rasped as my eyes met hers.
It was hard not to get lost in them. I wondered how they would shine if she were on her knees for me, taking me in her mouth as deep as she could go.
The thought alone made my cock stir with excitement.
I’d bet all my money she would look like a goddamn perfect wet dream.
What was I saying to her again?
The flirting thing.
Oh. Right, okay.
“When I’m flirting, you’ll know.”
She let out a disbelieving laugh. “So, this isn’t you flirting?”
“Nope.”
“Good to know, I guess.”
“You sound disappointed.” God, I hoped she was. I hoped that deep down, she wanted some of my attention. Because I was desperate for hers.
She scoffed. “You wish.”
I let out a knowing chuckle. “Any more rules?”
She shook her head. “We should sign a contract.”
I looked at her, dumbfounded. “What?”
“Write down the rules on a piece of paper and sign it,” she said.
I could practically hear Donovan and Hayes laughing in the back of my head. This was turning out to be too similar to the books Donovan’s wife read. We were a cliché rom-com in the making.
“Or we can be normal adults and follow the rules,” I countered with a weak laugh.
She grabbed a piece of pepperoni and ate it while shooting me a knowing look. “I’d rather have a binding contract so you don’t get any ideas.”
“Ideas? Me?” I tilted my head, voice light. “I would never.”
Her laugh was sharp before she took a bite of her pizza and shook her head in disbelief.
“I’ll sign whatever you want. But I have some stipulations of my own,” I said then frowned slightly, not knowing where the fuck that came from.
Stipulations? What the fuck are you talking about right now?
Her eyes narrowed. “Why do I have the feeling I’m going to hate whatever you’re about to propose?”
I smirked. “I want us to go on a date once a week, as long as my schedule allows it.” She tried to speak, but I placed my forefinger on her lips and shushed her.
“We need to sell this to the public, Kenny. You know how much scrutiny I’m under.
If they catch wind of this being fake, we’ll be fucked.
We should also go to every work event together, of course. ”
I couldn’t believe I was listening to my idiotic friends.
But it sounded fun and harmless. I’d never dated.
I didn’t have to when women practically jumped my bones anywhere I went.
Buying them a drink or two was as far as I’d gone to hook up with someone.
It made me sound like an asshole—believe me, I was aware—but that was the typical dating life of a professional hockey player.
“You called me Kenny,” she whispered, stunned.
My finger still hovered over her lips, and the way her warm breath hit my digit had me taking a sharp inhale. I could practically feel the puff of air on my cock.
Damn. I needed to get laid. Since when did a trickle of breath turn me on?
A lazy smile pulled at my lips. “Don’t get it twisted. I’ll still be calling you Jonesy from time to time. Just because I love keeping you on your toes.”
That comment won me a glare and a swat of my hand. “You’re lucky I didn’t pinch you. Don’t ever shush me again.”
I faked a shiver. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“You have a masochist kink or something?” she asked, amusement lacing her tone.
Only for you, I almost blurted but held back the answer. Instead, I said, “I like to have fun in bed. Don’t you?”
Her shrug was nonchalant. “Who doesn’t?”
“Oh?” That piqued my interest. “Kennedy Jones, are you freaky in bed?”
She straightened her shoulders, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she looked flustered. “Let’s add not talking about our sex lives to our rules.”
“All these rules.” I sighed. “You sure know how to have fun.” I grabbed a few wings and placed them on her plate then grabbed a few for myself.
She gave me a dry look but didn’t say anything.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, then she broke the silence by stating, “We need to come up with a break-up date.”
Before I could reply, she stood from her chair and went to her room. A few minutes later, she appeared in my line of vision, wiggling a piece of paper and a pen in the air. “For our trusty contract.”
I laughed. Goddamn. I should have known she was talking about a literal contract. She was ridiculously endearing. My heart fluttered at the thought. Everything she made me feel was, oh so dangerous, but I never wanted it to go away.
“Does this mean you agree to my stipulation?” I asked.
She nodded.
The nod alone made my heart skip a beat with excitement. Fuck, yeah. Going out with her—even if it was fake—was exciting. And I was at a point where I would take whatever she was willing to give me.
“Okay, then,” I pondered. “We could date until the end of the season?”
Her eyes met mine in surprise. “I was thinking more like until the New Year, but okay. Why until then?”
Because fake dating you sounds fun as hell.
Because I like spending time with you.
“I don’t want it to seem suspicious. And I need Coach to take me off the bench eventually. I’m hoping this will work,” I replied, opting for half honesty.
While I threw this crazy plan together to save Kennedy’s career, I did hope Coach saw the change in me and allowed me to get back on the ice before it was too late.
Playing for me was like breathing, and I was missing my source of air badly.
I missed it all. The adrenaline when I stepped on the ice.
The fans and their undying support. The feel of the blade gliding through ice at an unstoppable speed.
How every anxious thought didn’t exist when I put the uniform on and gave it my all.
She nodded in understanding as she started to write the rules down. She looked at me through her long, brown eyelashes. “I have one last stipulation.” She cringed. “I have a party to attend in the spring. Can you be my date?”
I shrugged. “As long as I don’t have an away game, I’m in. Is this the party Ken Doll was talking about the other day?”
Her brows knitted together. “Who’s Ken Doll?”
“That’s what I call your shitty ex.”
She tilted her head back with a laugh. The sound sent a flutter to my chest and expanded with a million tiny butterflies throughout the rest of my body. I had to fight the shiver that wanted to break through. “Oh my God, you’re right.”
“I try to be a pretty open-minded guy, Jonesy, but I honestly don’t understand what you ever saw in him.”
The mood in the room suddenly dampened. Her shoulders deflated slightly.
I internally kicked myself for once again putting my foot in my mouth.
Before I could apologize, Kennedy straightened her back and gave me a forced laugh. The shift was so quick, it gave me whiplash. There was no mistaking the way her stunning brown irises were missing the usual spark I liked so much.
How did she manage to mask her feelings so well?
I had no right to wonder such a thing. After all, I did the same thing.
But when it came to Kennedy, it was painful to know she forced herself to live in a world where she had to act to protect herself.
I understood it well, and I wanted to tell her as such.
But being the coward that I was, I didn’t.
“Do you have any other rules or stipulations you want to add?” she asked. If this was the way she wanted to deter the conversation, I was going to let her.
I shook my head. “Can’t think of anything else.”
She signed the paper and pushed it toward me with the pen. “Pleasure doing business with you, then.”
Amusement overtook me as I grabbed the pen and signed the ridiculous contract. “Famous last words.”
“We’ll see.” She shrugged. The smile she gave me was cheeky as she grabbed the contract and placed it smack dab in the center of the fridge with a Strikers logo magnet. She turned around and crossed her arms. “I guess we’re official, then.”
I crossed my arms, too, and leaned back on my chair with a hum. “Try not to fall in love with me in the process, Kenny.”
“I’ll be just fine, pretty boy,” she quipped as she dropped back onto the chair then grabbed a wing and continued eating.
This was a light and playful side I never expected Kennedy Jones to have.
But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was absolutely and wholeheartedly obsessed with it.