Chapter 31 How to Overdeliver
HOW TO OVERDELIVER
ISLA
“You’re…firing me?”
His nod is decisive. “Yep. From everything. I’m not a matchmaking client or even a coaching client anymore.”
The hair on my arms stands on end. “That’s…everything. But I thought I was doing a good job coaching you?”
Coaching doesn’t involve finger banging and you know it.
“You are. You were. You’re amazing. But this is the only way to do this,” he says with the kind of confidence he carries on the ice.
He reaches for my hand again, holding it tight like he needs to reassure me.
“We need to fake-date. No more of this practice-date stuff. We go all in with fake-dating—and I’ll take you to the gala on Christmas Eve. ”
“R-Rowan,” I sputter. Because that’s nuts. Right? “We can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
That’s a good question. “Because,” I begin, but I’m spinning my wheels. Because…why can’t we?
He jumps on the chance to make his case.
“Look, it just makes sense. My teammates started this back at the Nutcracker Auction. They wanted me to have a date for the gala. You said you can’t date me if I’m a client.
You also said, and I quote, ‘Listen to your date. Pay attention to what they say. Don’t fake it. ’”
“And yet you’re suggesting we fake-date?” I ask, incredulous.
“But you said don’t fake paying attention. You never said don’t fake-date, and since I paid attention and listened, if I’m not your client anymore in any fashion, then I can be your date for the gala.”
My head spins. But the logic is vexingly good. Still, this is uncharted territory for me. “How the hell did we go from practice-dating to fake-dating?”
“This was always about the gala. If you’re with me that night, my teammates will be happy. My goal. And since I fired you, you no longer need to worry about a conflict of interest. Your goal,” he says.
It’s like a game of ping-pong in my brain. One being played way too fast for me to follow. “Right, but it sounds complicated.”
He runs a thumb over my hand, making me shiver unfairly. “It’s easy, sweetheart. It’s a trope. I learned about it from Tinsel Takes.”
“I literally just told you about that earlier tonight.”
“I’m a quick study. The idea was already taking shape, and while I was waiting for the hot cocoa, I googled it. Do you know how many holiday movies are about fake-dating?”
“Um, most of them?”
“Exactly. It’s like a breakaway shot. Honestly, I’m a little mad I didn’t think of it sooner. But now that I have, it’s what I want for Christmas, Isla.”
My lips part, but I don’t know what to say. Especially after what he shared about his heartbreak. His hurt. And his daughter’s. How can I deny the former Christmas hater his Christmas wish?
A voice in my head answers immediately. You don’t want to deny him. You want this for Christmas too.
I want to shut up that voice for knowing me too well.
Still…fake-dating my brother’s best friend during Christmastime? Am I really going to say yes?
“Think about it,” he presses. “You were going to be my dating coach for the next week. We were going to practice-date anyway, right? But if we kept up with just practice-dates,” he continues, glancing around, “there’s a chance someone could see us practicing as I…
” He stops. Curves a hand around the back of my neck, making my pulse race. “Touch you the way you want.”
He has a point there. One he reinforces when he drops a soft, sensual kiss to the base of my ear, then whispers, “But if we’re fake-dating, it’s no problem. Think of it like a cover. Protection,” he says, seductively, making me bend as I melt more into his open-mouth caress.
I pull away so I’m not distracted by his talented mouth. “So you’re un-clienting me to fake-date me?”
His smile is so pleased. “The money for your services already went to charity. You’re not matching me anymore.”
I can’t even suggest I’d match him in the new year, when this temporary thing is behind us, since it would be wrong for me to suggest him as a prospect after I’ve been intimate with him. Sloppy seconds and all. But still, there’s an issue that nags at me. “We’ll be lying to your teammates,” I say.
He scoffs, smirking. “Sweetheart, they started this. Let’s finish it.”
That’s fair. But there are a few other hurdles in our path. “We have to tell Jason the truth. I don’t want to lie to him…well, about whether we’re really together or not.”
“Agree. He’s always been in on the practice-dating, so that makes sense.”
I noodle on his offer. On the ethics. On the way I want to handle myself.
I can’t deny that I’m wildly attracted to this man, but he said it himself—he’s not going to fall in love with the first person he dates.
And I don’t even know for sure that I’d be ready for a real relationship again.
Fake-dating is safe. It’s the easiest option.
Plus I hate feeling like I’ve failed. I experienced enough of that in my relationship with JD.
And I’ve felt it plenty in the last few days, failing at finding him a match.
“Okay, but even though you’ve fired me as a coach, I still want to work on your dating skills.
As a friend. As someone who cares about you.
It won’t be official, but I want to help you. It’s important to me.”
“You drive a hard bargain. But…I agree.”
“And when the gala is over, we need to say we decided we were better off as friends.”
“Easy,” he says, miming marking off a check box.
Am I really doing this? “I can’t believe you just convinced me to fake-date during Christmastime.”
He laughs lightly. “We’ve been fake-dating since the Cozy Valley Christmas tree farm.”
“Please,” I scoff.
He holds up his hands. “You said you wanted to get to know me that day. And you did. That was just like a date.”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“I know. I said it was just like one. Ergo—a fake-date.”
“Rowan,” I say, fighting off a smile.
“Well, it was definitely a fake-date at the Ferry Building then.”
“How do you figure?”
He arches a brow. “We shopped together. You shared something vulnerable about your ex. I bought the chocolate. I carried all the bags. Overdelivering, like you said a man should do.”
I huff. This man. He did overdeliver. And he really pulled out all the stops at the Candy Cane Diner the other night—he arranged for The Mistle Bros to play sexy Christmas music for me.
That can’t have been easy for him either, given his feelings about the holiday.
I mean, it’s not like I asked him to eat a pear but listening to all that Christmas music must have tasted like one.
Still, I have to hold my ground. It’s how I’ll stay…strong in the face of all his seduction. “Please. That was hardly a date.”
“You’ll admit it soon enough. That we’ve been fake-dating for a while now. I knew for sure we were after the frozen fruitcake incident.”
I lift a brow in question. “I’m almost afraid to ask what that is.”
“Doctor McGee. She started to tell me about where people put frozen fruitcakes.”
I shoot him a stern look. “Rowan, do I need to teach you what not to discuss on dates?”
“You can have your way—teach me and fake-date me.” He brushes some strands of hair from my cheek, like he knows exactly how to push all my buttons. “And I’ll show you how good I am at fake-dating.”
Those words spark an idea. I cross my arms. “Fine. Prove it then. Prove how good you are at fake-dating by taking me on the most amazing fake-dates you can possibly think of from now till the gala.”
His gaze holds mine, his eyes sparkling with delicious satisfaction. “Let’s bet on it.”
“What are the stakes?”
“If I take you on the most fantastic dates, you’ll admit you’ve been fake-dating me since the Christmas tree farm.”
I laugh so hard. “The Christmas tree farm? Really?”
“So you’re admitting it then. Excellent.”
“You’re exasperating."
“And yet you’re fake-dating me.”
I fight off a laugh. “If,” I say, emphasizing the conditional, “if you impress me, I’ll admit it. But these dates better be good.”
“They’ll be great.”
He glances at his watch. He’ll need to pick up Mia soon.
We don’t have much time, but there’s one more thing I want to say.
This is important. “And I hear you—you aren’t looking for love.
I get that especially after what you just shared.
” I take a breath, gathering my thoughts.
“But I also believe there’s a chance for everyone.
And I want you to find your chance. Even if it takes time and mistakes, stops and starts, heartaches and hope along the way.
I know you think you aren’t capable of falling in love.
I understand why you’d be wary of wanting to try.
But I believe in second chances, and I believe you are capable of feeling that way again. ”
“You really do?” He sounds skeptical but just shy of hopeful.
“I really do. And I want you to think of these practice-dates—”
“These fake-dates.”
“Fine. These fake-dates. Think of them as practice before the game. You can make mistakes; you can misstep. And then, when you get out there again on the ice, maybe dating won’t feel so awful.
We’ll get this out of our systems now. And after the holidays, sometime next year, I bet you’ll be ready.
I bet you’ll even say dating and romance don’t have to hurt. ”
I sound hopeful even to my own ears—almost like I’m making a pitch. Maybe because I don’t want to fail. This thing with him is short-term, but if I can help him in some way—a tip here or there—I can at least feel like I’m doing some good. Putting more love back into the world, eventually.
He’s scrubbing a hand over his beard, his gaze contemplative. Then he nods. “Okay, I can do that. I’ll try my best.”
Rowan sounds so genuine, and I appreciate the effort he’s making. “Thank you.”
He leans back in the chair, blows out a long breath, and says, “What you’re saying is you want to fake-date me and get me out of your system. This is just like a Christmas movie.”
“Yes,” I say, but then it hits me that there’s one more person, aside from Jason, who should be in on this. “You’ll tell Mia too?”
He wastes zero time debating it. “Good save. I’ll do it tonight at home.”
When he’s done with his hot cocoa, he gathers the cups, a wistful look on his face. “Short date.”
“But a good one.”
“Very good,” he says, then freezes, like something just occurred to him. “Want to come with me to pick up Mia?”
Sounds like he isn’t ready for this date to end either. “I’d love to.”