Chapter 17 #2
And so is fucking with her douchey ex. I sneak a glance to the counter where Corbin peppers him with question after question about beer he’s never going to carry.
When I turn back to Remy, she’s smirking at me. Partners in crime.
The videographer is busy shooting Caroline and Parker as they discuss whether the buttercream and vanilla is better than the chocolate ganache or the one with strawberry.
The bride and groom quickly eliminate the chocolate ganache, and since we’re in the background of the shot, I presume, I drop a kiss to Remy’s cheek.
Possessive.
Lingering.
Her breath hitches, then she blinks off her reaction as I pull away.
Remy nods to a slice of cake in front of us. “Have some more. You’ve earned it.”
I dig in, then nod my approval as I give her the fork again. The videographer backs up, widening the shot while Caroline asks Remy to weigh in on the options.
She points to the one with strawberries. “This one. It’s so good,” Remy says.
“Isn’t it?” Caroline replies with a proud smile, like she’s genuinely glad Remy agrees. She turns to Parker. “What do you think, babe?”
He gives a doting smile. “It’s the best, honey.”
I flash back to Remy’s words that he’s not in charge of anything. Seems so, but the way he listens to Caroline and focuses on her tells me he likes his life that way. That he knows his role and seems damn content with it.
I know my role—making sure Remy gets to experience the opposite of her ex. I flick my gaze to the counter, confirming Corbin’s still distracting him.
Yep. He is.
I return my focus to Remy as she takes one more bite of the strawberry cake. When she sets down her fork, the gods of fake dating smile down on me since there’s a smudge of something white and sweet on the side of her lips.
“You’ve got something here,” I say, and sure, I could motion to her lips. Yeah, I could offer her a napkin. But I didn’t say yes to being her guy to half-ass things. I’m all the way in. With the videographer turning the lens toward us, I say to Remy, “It’s just a little frosting.”
Her eyes glimmer. “You’d better kiss it off then, Lake.”
As if I was going to do anything else.
I lean in, flick my tongue across the corner of her lips, and taste the sweetest treat ever.
She shudders as a soft murmur ghosts across her pretty lips. That quiet gasp thrums through my body, vibrates in my bones. And sets up camp in my head.
It’s a sound that’s going to stay with me all night long, and then when I get on a flight for an away game tomorrow and leave all this fake romance behind.
I definitely owe Corbin dinner for the rest of the season, but it’s so worth it as Jameson pitches his beer to Corbin the whole damn time we’re cake tasting, and I’ve made sure the fuckface didn’t get his product placement in this wedding segment after all.
After the event wraps up and her sister and team leave, I linger with Remy in the bakery.
“You don’t mess around,” she says, something like wonder in her voice.
I give a cocky shrug. “I’m a full-service kind of boyfriend.”
“Seriously. That was so extra,” she says, then licks her lips. “But in the best of ways.”
“You deserve extra. Like I told you.”
“And you delivered, Lake.” My name comes out soft on her lips, but full of meaning, full of appreciation.
For a few heady seconds, I’m tempted to lean in, kiss her mouth for real, and thread my hand through her hair.
But the cameras are off, her sister is gone, and Jameson has left the premises. It’s just Corbin and Mabel, along with Remy and me, and we’re not fake dating for us or for them. We’re fake dating for others.
There’s no need to perform, so I don’t touch her again.
* * *
I cock my arm, stare down the pallino, and then take perfect aim, tossing the red ball in my hand.
“C’mon, baby,” I urge, coaxing it along the court with the power of my words and will till it smacks the target ball.
I thrust my arms in the air, victorious.
“Pretty sure I’m undefeated now,” I tell my teammates at The Gameyard, a new Cozy Valley bar and grill that’s known for its good food, but also its lawn games.
My teammates kidnapped me a few months ago and forced me to join them for their excursions.
I’ve made them regret that every day by beating their asses every time I play. Like I did just now.
“Why did we want him to join our club again?” Corbin asks with a groan as he records my winning score on a piece of paper. “It’s bad enough I had to see him at my bakery last night.”
“It’s okay,” Ivan says, then lifts his phone and snaps a picture of me. “We have blackmail power now. We can release photos of you being social.”
“No one would believe they’re real anyway,” I say with a scoff, then sink down into a lawn chair, relaxing. It’s good to chill for a bit after we all met for a hard workout this morning at Miller’s home gym. We’ll hit the road tonight for some away games.
“That’s true,” Riggs says thoughtfully, twisting at the label on his bottle of bubbly water. “Everything is fake these days.”
I flinch. Does he know about my fake romance? Do they suspect it’s all a ruse? But how could they?
“And I’d deny it,” I say, keeping the focus far away from my inner thoughts and my outer dating life. “And thank you for inviting me to your Lawn Men Club so I could eviscerate you.”
“Feel free to leave now,” Miller says, nodding to the bar. “And don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
“You’re stuck with me schooling you now,” I say.
“And since we’re stuck, let’s talk Montreal,” he says, shifting gears to chat about the team we’ll be playing next on their turf. “They lost their star forward and their offense has been weaker this season. We need to control the blue line and be aggressive with puck possession.”
“And that also means the D-men need to keep their D-men off the puck too,” Ivan puts in.
We dig into a game plan, something we’ll share with the other guys on the plane and the coaches. When we’re done, Ivan turns back to me, stroking his chin.
“You went to the coffee shop the other day. For a team promo.”
It doesn’t sound like a harmless observation. More like a setup. “Yeah,” I say, nonchalant.
“What’s that about? Is this another layer of the Lake onion?” Riggs asks.
“Just wanted to help,” I say.
“More like help your new woman,” Ivan says with a satisfied grin, then wiggles his bushy brows. “You’ve got it bad. Admit it.”
“Please,” I say, adding a scoff to sell it.
Riggs pats me on the back. “Our boy is smitten.”
I turn it right back to him. “Like you too, Fanboy,” I say, using the nickname Corbin gave him when he pursued and fell for a reality show star—now his girlfriend.
“Yep. I’m calling it,” Ivan says, then reaches for his wallet. “Here’s a grand on Lake falling in love.”
I double scoff. They have no idea how far off they are. “I’ll bet against it.”
Corbin whistles, then shoots me a sharp stare. “You really want to go there?”
Remy deserves the world. She deserves a man who’s not broken. She deserves someone who believes in romance.
And that’s just not me.
“I do,” I say, and I bet against us.