The Fake Out (Vancouver Storm, #2)

“Really?” I mutter at him over my shoulder, praying that in the bar’s dim lighting, he can’t see me flushing. God, even sitting in his lap, he’s so tall. His thighs are solid and warm under me and I just—


This is a lot. He’s all around me. My pulse jolts. This is so much more intense than I thought it would be.

Like he can sense my thoughts, Rory’s hand smooths over my back in a comforting motion.

“Play nice, fire-breather.”

Another strained laugh lodges itself in my throat, and I hate that I like that nickname, but my name catches my attention. Pippa’s looking at me with a question in her eyes.

“We’re talking about the skating event in December,” she explains. “It’s for the players and their partners.” Her smile turns impish, and I cringe, because I already know where this is going. She looks to Rory. “Hazel can’t skate.”

“What?” He’s baffled. “You work for a hockey team and you can’t skate?”

“We don’t do physio on the ice.”

“You need to know how to skate,” he says.

“You need to know how to skate. I don’t need to balance on knives on a slippery surface. Regular ground with sneakers is fine for me.”

“It’s because she fell as a kid,” Pippa adds.

“Pippa.” I stare at her. It’s my shut up now look. She wiggles her eyebrows. Make me, her expression says.

Rory hums a teasing, sympathetic noise and rubs a hand up and down my back. “Poor Hazel. You’re scared of skating?”

“I’m not scared.” My voice is too high. “I’m not scared,” I say again in my regular voice. “I’m busy, and I don’t want to get hurt.”

“I’ll teach you.” Connor interrupts, taking a seat at the booth, wearing a stupid smirk. His eyes move over me, sitting in Rory’s lap, and there’s an edge to his gaze, like he doesn’t like what he sees.

Rory tenses, his hands tightening on my waist.

“I’ll teach you,” Rory cuts in, wrapping his arm across my stomach, looking down at me in challenge. It’s the competitiveness I see in him on the ice. Play along, his eyes say. “I won’t let you fall.”

My instinct is to fight him, but we’re supposed to be pretending and making Connor wildly jealous, so I force a soft smile and gaze up at him like I’m besotted.

“I’d love that,” I say softly.

I’ve never used this voice with a guy in my life, and from the way Rory’s eyes spark with laughter, I think he might know that.

“Good.” His mouth curves higher like he’s won something. “So would I.”

Heat rises on my cheeks. Our lips are so close to each other, only inches apart. I glance away first and reach for my drink, taking a sip just to do something with my hands.

“Aren’t you two cute.” Connor’s tone is light, but I can hear the edge under his words. “Wearing your guy’s jersey and everything.”

My whole body tenses at his perusal, but Rory presses another quick, warm kiss to my temple, and all my thoughts stop.

“I pretty much had to wrestle her into it,” he says against me.

This isn’t real, because there’s no way Rory’s brushing his lips against my skin in that sweet, intoxicating way. Where the hell did he learn to act like this?

“But that’s okay. I don’t mind wrestling with Hazel. In fact,” his voice is soft and intimate as he peers down at me, eyes flaring with heat, “I kind of like it.”

My body warms, and I remind myself to breathe. I need more oxygen in my brain, because I can’t think of a single thing. I’m just staring up at Rory, replaying his words, melting against him.

Connor rubs his jaw. “Wasn’t she your tutor in high school?”

“She sure was.” One of Rory’s hands slides to my thigh. “Lucky me.”

The warning bells sound off in my head—where’s Connor going with this?—but the large hand rubbing slow, soothing strokes on my thigh distracts me. It’s weird how Rory’s touch is actually calming me.

Connor’s mouth twists with a wry smile. “Were you hitting on my girl back in school? Shame on you, Miller.”

When Rory smiles down at me, it feels private, not smug or arrogant but sweet and comforting. It feels like we’re on the same team for once. “I didn’t hit on her.”

I make a face. “You did.”

As a joke during one of our tutoring sessions in high school, he flipped to a new page, and it had HAZEL HARTLEY written with hearts all around it.

Rory grins shamelessly. I wonder what memory he’s thinking of. “Maybe a little. But mostly I just thought about you.”

My pulse trips. He’s playing a role here, and he’s toying with Connor like a cat with a string, but that sounded so honest.

He’s so good at this.

Rory raises one brow. “All I had to do was wait.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off me, and out of the corner of my eye, Connor shifts, folding his arms over his chest. Rory dips down so his nose is pressed against my neck and inhales deeply. Sparks crack and pop against my skin.

“You smell so good,” he murmurs, like Connor isn’t even there.

I shiver, and Pippa and I exchange a glance. Her eyes widen, her silent way of saying he’s really taking this faking thing seriously, and I widen my eyes back at her. I know.

“You know what the most interesting part is?” Rory asks. Mischief glitters in his gaze. “Apparently Hartley has had a thing for me for years.”

My stomach lodges in my throat, and I feel like both laughing and twisting one of Rory’s nipples. He holds my gaze with that provoking, amused smile. “Right, baby?”

I almost gag at being called baby, but across the table, Connor’s wearing a murderous expression.

Perfect.

“It’s true,” I tell Rory, giving him a little smile.

“She even liked me when you two were together,” Rory tells Connor. “That’s what you said, right, Hartley?”

Rory’s a master at stirring shit up. I can see Connor’s sensitive male pride wounded in his clenched fist, his hard gaze.

I narrow my eyes at Rory, pretending to scold him. “That was our secret.”

“I’m going to get another drink.” Connor slides out of the booth without another word.

A sense of victory rises in me, and I feel like laughing.

“What did I tell you?” Rory murmurs, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise as his breath tickles my ear. “Trust me.”

Our attention is pulled back to the booth, where everyone’s in a heated discussion.

“No one wears underwear during yoga,” Hayden tells everyone.

Alexei stares at Hayden in horror. “What are you talking about?”

Pippa’s giggling so hard she can’t breathe. Jamie gives Hayden a baffled look, shaking his head.

Hayden looks around at everyone. “Right?”

Everyone’s laughing, shaking their heads at the big, blond defenseman.

“My friend in Pittsburg told me this. She’s a yoga teacher.” Hayden frowns, thinking. “Victoria.”

“Veronica,” Alexei corrects him, shaking his head. “You said her name was Veronica.”

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