Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Tank twirled McKenna on the sidewalk outside Pat’s Pub as she giggled, her auburn hair spinning around her shoulders. God, he loved when she wore her hair down.
The woman had been smiling ever since he picked her up several hours earlier for Hunter’s secret concert. Her cheeks had to hurt by now.
Not that he was going to ask.
McKenna was a very sweet, very pleasant, but very serious woman. Of course, he’d seen her smile plenty times over the past nine months, but he’d never seen her this…well, uninhibited and happy. She radiated pure joy.
“That was incredible!” she gushed, saying the same thing she’d said no less than a hundred times tonight.
Tank was thrilled he could show her such a good time, but he hadn’t lied about his newly discovered jealous streak.
He was suddenly greedy about McKenna’s blushes, wanting her to save them all for him.
So he’d felt his eyes turning green when Padraig introduced her to Hunter after the show, and she’d blushed and stammered and looked adorably awestruck.
Tank wasn’t sure what to do with the misplaced anger he’d felt toward Hunter, who’d been standing next to the wife he clearly adored at the time.
Maybe this emotion wouldn’t be so strong if he’d had any experience with it in the past, but he’d never had a girlfriend. When he looked back, it occurred to him, that meant he’d also never been in love.
Funny how he’d never considered that a problem.
McKenna’s first impression of him hadn’t really been the wrong one, and now, he found himself wondering if his emotional growth had been somehow stunted or delayed due to finding success as such a young age.
Tank’s hockey career had taken off when he was in his late teens, as his hard work and natural talent got him drafted by New York when he was just nineteen years old. Two years later, he was traded to the Stingrays, and he’d been one of their top scorers ever since.
All of that meant he’d been handed the life most little boys dream of and write down whenever their elementary school teachers ask them what they want to be when they grow up.
At nineteen, he’d been there, playing professionally, earning a fuck-ton of money, and having beautiful women throwing themselves at him night after night. It’s no wonder it all went to his head.
However, his attitude had been slowly changing during this season, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was a combination of things.
For one, several of his best friends had fallen in love and settled down.
He’d tried to dissuade Blake from taking himself off the market at the beginning of his relationship with Erika, telling him he was making a mistake, wasting some of the best years of his life by shacking up with just one woman.
In the end, it felt like Blake had schooled him, because Tank was certain he’d never been as happy in his entire life as his buddy was right now.
Blake was still living the dream, playing the game they loved and making bank, but he also had…
Shit, he also had stuff Tank never thought he wanted until Blake got it.
Stuff like someone to go home to every night. Someone to celebrate his wins and help him mourn the losses. Someone to adopt a puppy with, laugh with, tell all his secrets to.
Blake had opened Tank’s eyes to new possibilities, and Coulton and Preston had reinforced the lesson.
Preston, the new father, had even expanded on it…
as, for the first time in his life, Tank realized that he wanted kids.
That revelation had blown his mind, even shaken him for a bit, but there was no denying that every time he saw Preston with Lennon in his arms, Tank longed for something he’d sworn he wouldn’t even think about before retiring from the game. Now…that felt like too far away.
And while Tank could shift all the blame for this new attitude toward life to his buddies, he also knew a lot of the changes he was undergoing were due to stupid decisions he’d made.
He had gotten too cocky, too conceited and overconfident.
Tank had been taking too many things for granted—his career at the top of that list—prior to that viral video, by partying too hard, drawing too much negative attention, and speaking his mind when it would have been better to shut up.
Originally, he’d approached McKenna’s reputation repair as a hoop he had to jump through.
He figured he’d play his part, get it over with, and move on with his footloose and fancy-free lifestyle.
Then he started spending time with her, McKenna becoming—unbeknownst to her—his first female friend.
Or at least the first who wasn’t also the girlfriend of one of his buddies.
Suddenly, he started to understand Blake, Preston, and Coulton better, because he saw firsthand how much fun it could be to spend time with an intelligent, sweet, funny woman. And as the days progressed, he found himself wanting her to like him as much as he was starting to like her.
“It’s been a great couple of days. First, last night’s blowout,” McKenna said, “and now tonight.”
Tank grinned, because it had been great. Last night, the Rays had pulled off an upset, kicking number-one ranked Edmonton’s ass to the curb in a four-zero shutout. Tank had contributed one of those goals, assisting on two of the others.
Though you wouldn’t have known that, given the way Coach Fields continued to ride his ass.
The man had been holding some sort of fucking grudge against him for the past couple of weeks.
The other guys had even noticed, Victor pulling him aside a couple days ago to ask what the fuck he’d done to piss Dean off.
Tank didn’t have a clue, unless Coach Fields wasn’t as chill about the video as Tank had initially thought. But that didn’t make a lot of sense, when Coach had admitted to him shortly after summer that he’d been just as wild as Tank in his younger days.
He wrapped his arm around McKenna’s shoulders as they walked down the sidewalk. He’d spotted the paparazzi the second they left the pub. He wasn’t surprised to find them there. No doubt word had gotten out that Hunter would be performing, so they’d swarmed.
Pat’s Pub was no stranger to the press, however, so they’d enlisted the help of the police, who’d set up a perimeter, and also hired security to help maintain it.
“Hey, Tank!” one of the cameramen yelled.
Tank didn’t acknowledge the guy but decided to take advantage of the free publicity. He pressed an affectionate kiss to the top of McKenna’s head. She glanced at him, and he winked. “Smile at me like I hang the moon, Mouse, and we’ll make the front page tomorrow.”
It proved just how happy McKenna was that she laughed at his joke rather than remind him again that this relationship of theirs was just pretend.
Benny’s suggestion that the two of them “fake date” proved just how much of a lucky star Tank lived under. Because he’d gone to her office with the Thai food last week with the intention of asking her out on a real date.
Maybe he should have confessed that to her, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
There’d been a chance—probably a very good chance—that McKenna would have rejected his invitation.
After all, she’d told him early on that she would never date a hockey player or someone from work, so he was a double whammy.
This way, he got to take her out whenever he wanted to, all under the guise of work.
As far as he was concerned, it was the perfect opportunity for him to show her just how good dating him for real could be. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long for her to drop the word “fake” and agree to be his girlfriend.
Tonight was the first time they’d gone out in public together, though they’d planted the seeds of a budding relationship in other ways.
Like her sitting in the team’s box, front and center with the other girlfriends and wives, wearing his jersey.
They’d also continued eating together—alone—whenever they were on the road.
And he’d picked her up this past weekend to take her to the game night that Blake and Erika hosted at their apartment.
He sat beside her the entire evening, arm loosely draped across the back of the couch so he could play with her ponytail.
Tank had gotten McKenna to agree to keep the true nature of their fake relationship a secret from their friends, convincing her there was a higher chance of discovery if too many people were let in on the ruse.
Or at least, that’s what he told her. In truth, he wanted everyone to think they were an item because if he got his way, they would be soon enough.
As such, he figured there was no reason to confuse their friends.
When they reached his car, Tank opened the passenger door for her, the sound of cameras clicking in the background.
The paparazzi were taking full advantage of tonight’s A-list of Baltimore’s who’s who.
He suspected Blake and Erika, along with Preston and Chelsea, who’d all left earlier, had also been photographed.
Unable to resist, Tank cupped her cheek, giving her a quick kiss before she climbed into the car.
“Milking it, aren’t you?” she murmured, though the twinkle in her eyes told him that wasn’t a complaint.
“Gotta strike while the iron’s hot.”
Closing her door, he crossed in front of the hood, giving the paparazzi a quick wave before sliding behind the steering wheel and heading off in the direction of her townhouse.
Dark clouds had rolled in during the time they were in the pub, the forecast warning of some nasty storms tonight.
When he arrived on McKenna’s street, he drove two full blocks away from her place before finding a spot.
Once again, McKenna had insisted he could just drop her off, but he refused.
He wanted to walk her to the door. Not only to ensure she got in safely but also because he fully intended to steal another kiss.