Chapter 6 #4
“That’s not a problem. I don’t cook, so my meal planning usually consists of a huge take-out order, followed by two to three days of leftovers.”
McKenna shook her head, then decided that probably wasn’t a bad plan. Cooking for one sucked.
“Truthfully, I’m here because I felt like celebrating.”
McKenna was confused. “Last night’s game with Boston was an honest-to-God spanking, Tank.”
He winced. “It really fucking was, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” he said. “Didn’t you listen to that podcast? I killed it.”
She had to give praise where it was due, so she nodded. “You really did. Benny and Roger stopped by afterward, and they were impressed. Although Chuck wasn’t supposed to bring up the video. You can be damn sure I’m firing off an email first thing in the morning.”
Tank shrugged, his signature cocky smirk firmly in place as he sat in the seat Benny had vacated an hour or so earlier, pulling it closer to her desk. “He didn’t ask anything I couldn’t handle.”
McKenna studied the food. While she was hungry, nerves were starting to take over.
She debated whether or not she should bring up the fake dating idea now or wait until next week.
The idea of stalling was appealing, but she also knew that she wouldn’t sleep a wink until she got this over with, too worried about his response.
Tank picked up a fork and the container of Pad Thai, shoveling a huge bite into his mouth before putting it down.
He hadn’t brought any plates with him, so it looked like they were simply passing the food back and forth.
The idea of that didn’t bother her like she thought it should.
In fact, it felt intimate and…well…like they were dating.
Oh my God, Mac.
Stop.
She reached for the Pad Thai container he just put down, scooping out a big bite for herself.
“You did great,” she reiterated, once she managed to swallow the noodles. She put the container back down but didn’t pick up another because, apparently, in addition to not sleeping, eating wasn’t going to happen, either, until she told him about Benny’s plan.
Tank worked his way around the Thai buffet, stealing a bite from everything before he realized she wasn’t eating. “Do you like Thai? I didn’t think to ask.”
“I love it,” she said hastily. “It just, um… There’s something I wanted to run by you. Well, actually, it was Benny and Roger’s idea, or maybe it was mine, but they, uh… I mean we, um…”
Tank put the mango sticky rice down, as well as his fork, leaning back and taking in her face, which was no doubt bloodred. “Must be one hell of an idea. Just spit it out, Mouse. No need to hem and haw with me.”
She bit her lower lip, then drew in a deep breath. When she released it, a flurry of words flew out of her mouth. “Theythinkweshouldfakedateuntiltrainingcampstartsbackup.”
Tank tilted his head, confused. “They what?”
McKenna took another breath, wishing it would steady her. It didn’t. Regardless, she managed to speak more slowly. “They think it would help improve your image if you were in a relationship.”
Tank nodded. “Yeah. You said that the morning after the video dropped.”
“Right. Well, apparently, because we’ve been seen together quite a lot, people have remarked that, um…”
“That we’re a cute couple?”
She’d never gotten the impression that Tank ever looked at the team’s social media, but she’d learned otherwise. He’d been the one to show her the video posted by the Pee Wee hockey mom.
“Yeah,” she replied.
Tank grinned. “Chuck obviously thought the same thing.”
“It’s a crazy idea,” she said, ready to put an end to this nonsense. “I’ll tell Benny and—”
“Now hold on. I didn’t say it was a bad idea. I’m just curious.” Tank’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You think you got what it takes to be my girlfriend, Mouse?”
Her nervousness vanished, replaced by a more familiar emotion. She crossed her arms. “I wouldn’t be your girlfriend. It would be fake.”
“Fake. How does that even work?” he asked.
“We’d just have to be seen together in public, maybe holding hands, and um…” God, McKenna’s cheeks were on fire. At this rate, she’d spontaneously combust before they got out of this office.
“And?” he prodded, enjoying her discomfiture way too much.
“And I’d sit in the team’s box for the next few games. Probably wear your jersey.”
“And?” he repeated.
“And what?”
“Well, if you and Benny and Roger are asking me to take myself off the market for…”
“Five months,” she said softly.
“Five months.” He blew out a low whistle. “That’s a long time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not really,” she lied because that was a hell of a long time for her to try to resist this pull she felt toward the sexy hockey star.
“It seems to me that if we’re really going to sell it, we’d have to do more than just hold hands. We’re not in middle school.”
“I’m not having sex with you just because you can’t stay out of trouble and keep it in your pants.”
Tank threw up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said anything about sex? Damn, woman, what kind of man do you think I am?”
McKenna tilted her head. “I know very well what kind.”
He smirked, giving her the same list he’d rattled off at their original meeting. “Manwhore, playboy, asshole…”
Five weeks ago, she agreed with every single descriptor.
Now…none of them seemed to fit. At least, not quite as well as they had.
She shrugged and returned a cocky grin of her own, refusing to let him get the upper hand. “Why don’t you cut to the chase, Tank? Aannnnnd what?” she drawled, tossing his question back at him.
“If we’re really going to convince people we’re a couple, in addition to the dating, hand-holding, and team box photo ops, we’d have to kiss. And because I’m a PDA kind of guy, it wouldn’t be PG and it would be a lot. You think you’re up to that, Mouse?”
“I’ve been kissed before, Tank. And it’s not like these would be real kisses. They’d just be for show. We’d be like…actors in a movie.”
Tank didn’t reply to that, but she got the sense he was really considering what she was proposing.
She thought Tank rejecting the idea would be the worst thing.
She was wrong.
Because the thought of the two of them kissing—a lot—was more than her heart could take.
“Obviously, you can say no,” she added hastily, suddenly hoping he’d go that route. “We can’t force you to do this. If you’d rather stay the course with the current plan instead of—”
“I’m not saying no. I think this is a great idea.”
She frowned, suddenly suspicious. “You do?”
“It’s a stroke of genius, really. Who knows? We could become the next Taylor/Travis sensation.”
She snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“You never know,” he replied, his tone softer, more sincere than she was used to hearing from him, as he studied her face.
McKenna wasn’t used to any man looking at her like Tank, whose gaze seemed to say she was pretty. But more than that…she mattered.
Which was a ridiculous and precarious thought.
Because he couldn’t really be thinking that.
Could he?
The moment lingered, steeped in something too dangerous as the two of them looked deeply into each other’s eyes.
McKenna managed to break the connection, but only just. A huge part of her wanted to dramatically clear the top of her desk, crawl over it, and kiss the hell out of the man.
She hastily picked the Pad Thai back up and shoveled a huge helping of the spicy noodles into her mouth.
“How soon does Benny think we should launch TanKenna?”
She covered her mouth, trying not to spit out the food as she laughed. When she finally managed to swallow, she said, “That’s a horrible portmanteau.”
Tank chuckled. “I didn’t know there was a word for that, but I still like it.”
“We’re not using that.” McKenna paused. “You’re really willing to do this?”
Tank studied her face for a moment. “Why would you think I wouldn’t?”
“Because we haven’t given the positive promotion time to work. Because people have short attention spans, which means Padraig is right, ‘this too shall pass.’ And because I’m…uh…”
“Not my usual type.”
She shot him a look. “If by that you mean a giggly, shallow, ditzy puck bunny, then yeah.”
Tank laughed loudly. “Man, you don’t think much of me, do you?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer that. If he’d asked that question pre-viral video, she would have said she didn’t. Because the guy had been a strutting narcissist with an overweening sense of self. But nowadays, he’d revealed there was more to him than she realized.
“I think you’re a good guy, Tank, when you put away the Hockey God and act like yourself.”
Tank grinned. “You think ‘myself,’” he finger-quoted, “is a good guy?”
She nodded, slightly amazed by how happy her response seemed to make him. Since when did Tank care what she thought of him?
“So when are we starting this thing?” he asked again.
She sighed. “I’m sitting in the team box at tomorrow’s game.”
“Okay. You can borrow one of my jerseys.”
She brushed off the offer. “I’m sure Benny will grab me a new one from the shop. One that fits.”
Tank frowned. “No. I’d rather my girlfriend wear one of mine.”
“I’ll swim in it,” she pointed out, not bothering to comment on his use of the term “girlfriend” because she liked the sound of it way more than she should.
“You’ll look adorable in it.” Apparently, Tank had decided things were settled, because he started repacking the food in the bag. He handed her the Pad Thai, clearly noticing that had been her favorite. “I’ll leave that with you. You didn’t eat enough.”
Tank had eaten a lot—the man could freaking eat—but there was still a ton of leftovers.
“Sounds like you and I need to start planning some dates.”
“Fake dates,” she said, compelled to correct him. She needed that descriptor to help her keep her head in the game.
“What are you doing next Thursday night?”
She opened her calendar on her computer. “There’s no game that night, so I’ll probably curl up on the couch in my pj’s and catch up on all my shows. I’m painfully behind on Below Deck, and I haven’t even started the new Bridgerton yet.”
“Think I could convince you to change your plans?”
“It depends. It would have to be a pretty good offer. I love Bridgerton.”
Tank chuckled. “Padraig let me in on a little secret. His cousin Ailis is home.
“Ooookay,” she drawled, because she didn’t remember who Ailis was.
“She’s the cousin who’s married to Hunter Maxwell. I told you about her, remember?”
The light went on, and she nodded.
“Hunter’s planning to do an impromptu performance at Pat’s Pub. They’re closing the pub to the public. The performance is invite-only. I scored an invitation for me and my plus one.”
“You convinced me,” she said excitedly. “Holy shit! I love Hunter Maxwell so much.”
Tank stood, moving around her desk and giving her a scowl that looked out of place on his face. “I’m starting to think I might be a jealous boyfriend.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
“Am I laughing?” he asked, far too seriously. Then he leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Looks like I’m gonna have to stake a strong claim.”
“This isn’t real,” she whispered, when he gripped her upper arms, pulling her out of her chair, before perching her on the edge of her desk. It should be scary how strong he was, how easily he could move her where he wanted.
It wasn’t.
“Then you can call this practice instead,” he murmured, his lips a mere inch from hers.
Like the kiss after the gala, Tank took her lips with a passion McKenna never knew existed outside of romance novels. He wrapped his arms around her back, his large hands stroking up and down her spine, before looping her ponytail around a fist and giving it a tug.
That pull found a direct line to her nipples and her pussy, both reacting strongly.
McKenna gripped his waist, her fingers digging into his sides as she sought purchase, desperate for something to anchor herself.
She went light-headed as the kiss dragged on, but air was no longer a necessity.
All she needed to survive were his lips on hers and his arms around her, holding her, touching her.
All she needed?
McKenna broke away, gasping, trying to regain her breath. She didn’t need a mirror to know she was flushed, the temperature in her office skyrocketing.
She wanted to congratulate herself on finding the strength to pull away, but she couldn’t. Because now, just like the night of the gala, she’d left it too long, letting the kiss linger for minutes, not seconds.
“This isn’t real,” she said again.
Tank considered that for only a second before calling her out. “Are you saying that to me or to you?”
She opened her mouth, but no reply came.
Tank didn’t bother to wait for her answer, giving her a knowing grin that was just as hot as all his other grins and smirks and smiles.
Why did he have to be so damn hot?
As if he could read every single one of her chaotic, out-of-control thoughts, Tank winked, grabbed his leftovers, and walked out of her office.
“This isn’t real,” she whispered to the empty room, even though he wasn’t there to hear it.
Because she knew exactly which one of them needed that reminder.
If only it would sink in.