Chapter 15 Kennedy
kennedy
Damn Maggie and her ridiculous ideas! If this were the Eras Tour, this is where I would sing, ‘Look What You Made Me Do.’
I can’t believe I’m about to suggest this, but she may be right. Especially now that there is a damn photo of me holding hands with Richy Rich.
I push my shoulders back, taking control of the situation. This is what I’m trained to do—find the alternate path in crisis.
“What if we…pretend we’re dating?”
His eyes go wide, blinking faster than a red fire warning light in the flight deck.
“What did you say?” he whispers with a very surprised tone to his deep voice.
“We can decide in the morning if you want to think about it. But, what if we did keep dating—”
“Yes!” he shouts louder than necessary with only two people in the room.
I cock my head. “You’re sure?”
“Yep. I’ll do it. I’ll help you out.” He scoots his chair back up to the table.
“Well, um…” I mindlessly pick at my cuticles. “Like I said, you can think about it first.”
“Okay, I’ll think about it.” He places his chin on his hand like he’s the goddamn Thinker statue.
And now I’m thinking of him naked and wondering if he’s as chiseled as a statue. Fuck.
“Let’s see…I got you into this mess. Seems only fair I help you get out of it. Okay! Done thinking.” He puts both of his hands down on the table in front of him. “My answer is still yes.”
My heart pulses in my throat. He’s agreeing to this. What have I gotten myself into?
“If we do this, it’s just to help keep Chadd off my back and not make me seem like your latest one-night stand.”
His eyes soften. “Kennedy, I would never—”
I scoff, holding my hand up. “Stop. Everyone says you’re a nice guy, and I’m going to try to give my friends the benefit of the doubt, but I also know you like women.
I’m not going to be the joke of the tabloids.
I have a profession. One I’ve worked damn hard to achieve at this level.
If we’re going to pretend we’re dating, you can’t be out with anyone else. ”
He leans back. “Deal. Not a problem.”
I narrow my brows, my cuticles threatening to bleed from their torture this evening.
“You can just cut off other women just like that?”
“Yep,” he says with a smile I’ve not seen from him before, his gaze never leaving mine. “Consider me gone for any other woman but you.”
Shit, that was kind of sweet. Nope. Abort. Do not go there. This is all for show, Kennedy.
“Okay then. It’s settled. But…what about you? I mean, this is really helping me out, but doesn’t this hurt your precious playboy image?”
He runs his hands through his hair, the strands falling back across his forehead. He twists his lips as if he’s debating some sort of admission.
“Honestly, I could use the positive monogamous relationship PR as well. Coach got on my case about the pre-game performance last night; he’s worried my lifestyle is bleeding onto his ice.”
“I’m shocked,” I say, my tone dry and not at all shocked.
He smirks. “Yeah, yeah. I know. What can I say? I like to have fun. I try to make hockey games enjoyable for the fans who spend their hard-earned money to come see the Riders. The antics, the fights…Nothing I do is just for me. It’s for them.
I want them to leave feeling like it was the best night of their lives. ”
“And that’s what the girls are for, too? To make them feel like it was the best night of their lives?”
“No. It’s,” —his gaze drops— “it’s complicated.
But Coach told me he wants to see more leadership, on and off the ice, and this could really be good for me too.
Although I really don’t care about that.
This is about helping you. Coach can go suck a lemon.
I want to make sure everything is okay for you and try to undo any damage I did tonight. ”
The slight creeping upward from the corners of my mouth doesn’t surprise me as much as it should. My pulse flutters at how genuine he sounds. He’s got to be doing this to save face. But, this being all about me? I do like the sound of that.
“You’re right about one thing. This is about me. But I suppose if this helps us both, that makes it a little more mutually beneficial. So we’re agreed? We pretend we’re dating and, hopefully, this gets us both a better image?”
“Agreed. Should we make this official somehow? I can have my family attorney draw up a contract if you want, or…”
I lean back in my chair, my arms falling to the side. Is this day ever going to end?
“I don’t really want a paper trail. Unless you’re planning to screw me over?”
He shifts in his seat, a flicker in his eyes disappearing as quickly as it came. Smoothed back into his handsome, unreadable face. But the softness of it lingers, humming in the air.
“I know what you think about me—that I’m some rich playboy who only thinks about myself—but I swear to all things hockey.” He places his hand over his heart, “I would never do anything to hurt you.”
His sincerity hits me, tightening my chest, my throat forcing a swallow to keep my voice steady.
My eyes slowly rake up and down his face, his arms, his chest, like I’m doing a walk around of a jet, looking for anything that might be off.
I know his exterior perfection doesn’t mean he’s not hiding something underneath.
And yet, for some strange reason, I feel like he’s being truthful.
“Thank you. And I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier in the elevator.”
He huffs out a laugh. “All good. We’ll just call it our first argument.”
I let out a slight chuckle. He is maybe, sort of, a little funny. If you’re into that sort of thing, which I definitely am not.
“I guess that’s true. Maybe before we make this official, we should set some guidelines?”
“Bet.”
My eyes dart back and forth. “What are we betting on?”
He laughs again, the sound warm and calming after the stress of the night.
“Nothing. Bet means like…yes. Okay. I agree.”
“Christ on a cracker, we’re from different worlds,” I huff as I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Okay, so we need a backstory, obviously. I like what you said earlier about how Maggie introduced us. Let’s stick with that.”
“Works for me.”
“And maybe we should talk about when we end this.”