Chapter 11
A HOCKEY BIRD
REMY
I said yes to the ride because I wanted to steal another minute with him, or ten.
The way he gave me that sinfully hot once-over in the corridor was so different from how Jameson would look at me, like I was his buddy.
I was his binge-watching friend, his food-ordering pal, his let’s-hang-out-tonight person.
But I also don’t want to get fooled again.
I need to know what’s behind Lake’s comment.
Because my teammates just gave me hell about dating you.
As he drives away from the arena, I jump straight into the deep end. My therapist taught me that’s often the best approach to a tough conversation.
“Why did your teammates give you a hard time? I know you said it’s what they do. But is there a reason?” I keep thinking of the grieving widower comment that Daniel made. Are his teammates trying to protect Lake from getting hurt? Is he…too broken, like his sister warned me? Too shut down?
Lake’s quiet as we drive along the starlit water, calm and still. “They said it with an eye roll, like we know.”
I furrow my brow. “Like they know we’re, what, dating? That doesn’t make sense. It’s pretty new.”
He works his jaw back and forth for a beat. “Like they knew I was into you,” he bites out, but with a sneer.
That knocks me even more off-kilter, and I let out a big laugh so he knows I know better. “Well, of course you’re not.”
But he grips the wheel tighter. “How do you know?”
The directness of his question keeps me off balance. “Well,” I begin, but really, I don’t know. I just assumed. “Because you’re not.”
He shrugs, his lips quirking up. “I could be.”
I’m so thrown off now. Is that an admission?
He turns quiet again, and I do too. It almost feels like Lake’s telling me something, but he’s probably just having fun.
I relax into the seat, and as we drive through the Marina, I tell myself I don’t need to know every detail.
This is a fake relationship. It doesn’t matter what his teammates say or what he says to them.
When he stops at my house, he says, “Were there any hummingbirds?”
That is a much easier topic. “Yes. This morning. A few.”
“Send me a picture of one tomorrow.”
“Okay, I will.” This conversation feels more natural—hummingbirds and rides home and making sure we nail the first wedding event this weekend.
But one thing nags at me. Something I’ve been wondering since he insisted on being my fake boyfriend.
It nips at my heels as he walks me around the townhome to the porch of my little place.
“Lake, what’s in this for you? It’s not like you need a fake girlfriend for your reputation.
Or do you? Is this your way of moving past… ” Should I say it?
“The way people see me?” he supplies, and that’s close enough.
“Yes.”
He scratches his jaw, giving it thought.
“Not really,” he eventually says. “I just honestly couldn’t stand how that guy treated you.
Breaking up in public. Not even giving you the fucking courtesy of alone time and space.
I mean, what if you had cried? It’s just thoughtless.
” His tone is filled with vitriol for Jameson.
“And I wasn’t okay with what he was doing.
Also, a friendship bracelet? Asking to make dating profiles? No. Just, no.”
Lake said as much the first night, and that meant a lot to me—his bone-deep sense of what’s right.
His willingness to offer a hand and more.
But how do you go from helping out to serving up dating services?
“And I seriously appreciate that. But do you get anything out of this arrangement? Do you just feel sorry for me?”
“No. Not a chance,” he says, the answer instant. He steps closer, licks his lips, then brushes a strand of hair off my shoulder. I fight a shiver. He’s really good at these small touches. So good that my knees go a little weak, and I do my best to steady myself.
“What do I get out of this? I’ll tell you. I get to spend time with a strong, sassy, clever woman who cares about other people, who keeps me on my toes, and who likes cereal too,” he says, and I smile. “And birds. Or she will. I promise she will. Birds are awesome.”
“Because they can fly?”
“Course. Flying’s just cool.”
“You wish you could fly, Lake?” I tease, glad to be back to the lighter stuff.
“I can fly on skates.”
I laugh. “Are you the rare breed known as a hockey bird?”
His full lips curve up, and he nods, like he’s saying he likes that term.
“You know, I think I am.” He exhales, unfinished thoughts flickering in his eyes.
He turns quiet. Circumspect, really. “And my dad…” He scratches his stubbly jaw.
Swallowing as if it’s hard to say, he continues, “It makes him happy to hear that I’m spending time with you. ”
My chest warms from the sentiment and the admission. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Lake’s close with his father. I know that from him, but I also know from Clem that their mom’s been out of the picture for a long while, so I understand why making his dad happy would be extra important.
I’m relieved that he’s not selflessly chivalrous, though I wholeheartedly enjoy his good growl brand of chivalry.
I want to trademark that term and use it on my How We Met podcast, or as I dispense romantic advice from time to time with clients—because I’m determined to rebuild my business.
The thought reminds me that I should do some work tonight.
I reach for the door, but Lake’s voice stops me. “Remy.” It’s all low and smoky, full of rasp, and seems to slide down my spine.
“Yes?”
“Yesterday, when we set the rules of affection, we missed something. We left out one important detail.”
Heat rushes through my body as I turn, meeting his gaze. “What is it?”
“We said holding hands is fine. So’s an arm around the waist.” He pauses, moonlight streaking across his handsome face, a sliver of light illuminating the cut of his jaw. “But what about kissing?”
Well, that’s direct.
And…effective. The mere mention of his mouth on mine sends my pulse hammering. A flush crawls down my neck and coasts over my body, and my imagination runs wild. Lake pushing me against the door, Lake caging me in, Lake kissing me possessively.
I fight off a shudder, then say at last, “If the moment calls for it.”
He tucks a finger under my chin and lifts it. “Good to know.”
He drops his hand and leaves.
I rub my chin, wanting this fizzy feeling to last.