Chapter 5 #2
“Not him. Her,” he says. “Diotima was one of Socrates’ teachers, mainly about love. She was very wise, and according to her, you were loving right. It’s not your fault that Teddy was too selfish to return the favor.”
The warmth behind my ribs swells, blossoming into something dangerously close to real tenderness.
Which is not good. Not good at all.
This is pretend with a side of friendship. Maybe. If Nix continues to prove himself to be an interesting, genuine guy. This is not the time nor the place for giddy, swoony shit.
Too bad it’s so hard to remember that when he’s looking at me like he thinks I’m something special.
Like he’d know how to treat me right if I gave him the chance…
I clear my throat. “Well, thank you again, but that isn’t relevant anymore,” I say, doing my best to break the spell before I do something stupid.
“I don’t love Teddy. I haven’t for a long time, and I’d rather not waste any more mental energy thinking about him until a few days before the wedding.
We can plan our ‘Teach Teddy a Lesson he Won’t Soon Forget’ strategy then.
For now, we should concentrate on building your reputation as a stable, reformed team player.
Show the Voodoo management that punching that guy was an aberration, not a pattern. ”
Nix studies me for another beat, looking like he would rather keep probing the philosophical underpinnings of love, but finally nods.
“Okay. So, what are you thinking? I mean, we could do the obvious things. Follow each other on socials. Leak some cute couple shots. You sit with the wives and girlfriends at the first home game; I cast glances your way every time I come off the ice. It’s Thursday, by the way.
If you’re free, I can get your name on the list tomorrow. ”
“Yes, I’m free, and that’s all good,” I say. “But we need something more visible. And sooner. Four days is a month in gossip time.”
He grunts. “Okay, maybe a group date? Or we could do a couples’ cooking class or pottery, or something. That’s stable-relationship coded.”
As he brainstorms, making perfectly reasonable, PR-firm-worthy suggestions, a more…creative idea takes root in my mind.
The more I mull it over, the more perfect it seems.
I’m already signed up to help with the event, one that’s completely at odds with his bad-boy image.
Not to mention the kind of photo-op that could garner attention from more than just local media.
If we play it right, this could trend on social media, make the local news, maybe even land a feature on some of the national hockey blogs.
And the best part?
It’ll be a blast to watch, especially if I spring it on Nix without time to prepare. There’s nothing more adorable than a big, strong man flustered and out of his element in the name of the greater good.
“What?” His gaze narrows on mine.
“What, what?” I ask, wondering if I’ve missed something while I was in the scheming zone.
“Your face,” he says. “You look like you’re up to something.”
I blink innocently. “What? Me? Never.”
He hums beneath his breath. “Right. I believe that, like I believe the fox in the henhouse is there to take attendance.”
I drain the last of my coffee, tossing it into a trash can beside the path as I silently run through the logistics. The calls I’ll need to make. The arrangements to be made.
It shouldn’t be that hard.
I was planning to volunteer anyway. I doubt anyone will mind if I bring a “friend” along and make sure the press gets tipped off in advance. What charity ever turned down free publicity?
“So?” Nix prompts again. “Are you going to share with the class? Or keep me in suspense?”
A slow smile curves my lips. “Suspense. Definitely suspense.”
He laughs, but there’s a hint of worry in his voice as he asks, “Are you sure? I mean, I know I seem like a man who can roll with the punches. But put me in the right situation, and I can be…”
“A little punchy?” I supply, arching a teasing brow.
I’m flirting with him now. For real. I could deny it, but deep down, I know what this is.
More importantly, he knows it, a fact he proves by wrapping an arm around my waist. “Yes,” he says, drawing me in, “which is what we’re trying to avoid. Help me out here, woman. At least give me a clue.”
As my breasts flatten against his chest, I have to curl my hands into fists to keep from pulling him down for a kiss.
Damn, why does he have to smell so good?
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” I lift my chin, ignoring the way my lips tingle as they shift closer to his. “Just tell me when to pick you up after practice tomorrow afternoon.”
He’s quiet, studying me for a beat before apparently deciding to play along. “Three o’clock. By the team exit near lot G.”
I nod. “Perfect, I’ll be there with bells on. Wear something durable. Something you can work in and don’t mind getting dirty.”
“I rarely mind getting dirty,” he murmurs, the husky note in his voice making my nipples pull tight. “I do mind getting in trouble, though. I seriously can’t afford any more of that right now, Strawberry.”
Trouble…
I’m in trouble. Me and my traitorous nipples.
And the traitorous swoony feelings in my chest.
And the traitorous hands currently skimming down Nix’s ribs to linger at his waist as I whisper, “I’ve got your back, Baylor. Trust me. Okay?”
He pulls me even closer, into something between a hug and the prelude to a kiss, and suddenly all I can think about is how desperate I am to taste him. In that moment, if he’d dropped his mouth to mine, I wouldn’t have put up a fight.
I wouldn’t have even thought to try.
But…he doesn’t.
He draws in a breath, holds it, then pulls away with a nod. “All right.”
“Good,” I say, wobbling a little as I step back and nod back toward the parking lot. “I should go. I have some catering proposals to review before tomorrow. I just signed on to organize the gala for the indie film festival that’s launching in December.”
“Congratulations,” he says, his voice husky, hungry.
Nearly as hungry as I feel as I take another step away from his delicious body.
“Thanks, so…” I clear my throat and force a non-horny smile. “See you tomorrow at three.”
“Tomorrow,” he promises.
As I walk away, I can’t deny how excited I am for him to keep that promise, and not just because I’m looking forward to seeing him play the fish out of water for the cameras.
No, my anticipation is of a more personal nature.
So far, I’m doing a truly shitty job of not lusting after my fake boyfriend.