“I’ll do it.” I beam at her like I’m in a goddamned toothpaste commercial. “I’ll happily do it, Hartley.”
Her eyes close and she shakes her head. “I knew you were going to be so smug about this. Okay, we need to set the terms.” She wears her thinking face. “We’ll date for half a season. Until January first.” Her gaze flicks over me, assessing. “Or earlier, if either of you gets traded.”
A weight thunks in my gut. It doesn’t matter if I’m the captain; if Ward doesn’t like what he sees, I’m out.
“January first. Deal.”
“You can’t mess around with other girls while we’re pretending to be together. It’ll ruin the illusion.”
“Of course not.” That’s not really an issue these days.
Her eyes narrow. “Why are you agreeing to this so easily?”
I picture us making out while a pissed-off McKinnon watches on, and blood rushes to my dick. My gaze drops to her full mouth. I bet her lips are soft. They look soft.
Alarm rises in her eyes. Shit. She asked a question, and saying that I’m into her is going to send her running.
“Oh.” Hazel’s expression falls. “I see.”
Panic tightens in my gut.
“You want to look good as captain,” she says.
“Yes,” I rush out, filled with relief. “Exactly.”
She hums, thinking. “The fans went nuts last year when Jamie and Pippa started dating.”
Clean up your act this year, Ward said in his office.
A hockey player with a nice hometown girl on his arm is the fastest way to clean up a reputation.
I wouldn’t exactly call Hartley nice, but she’s well-liked by the players and organization. Ward wants a responsible guy, and Hartley’s my ticket.
“I’ll play your devoted boyfriend and do everything I can to piss McKinnon off,” I tell her, “if you help me look like the captain the team needs. Ward wants a guy with a squeaky-clean image. You’re great at your job and everyone likes you.”
Her lips part in surprise. “Thanks.”
“It’s the truth.”
I shrug, clearing my throat. We tease each other, but we don’t compliment each other like that. I’m not sure why it slipped out.
“I’ll need you to go to events and stuff with me. There’s a charity event in December and the League Classic game on New Year’s Eve.”
It’s at a local ski resort that doesn’t count toward the season, but the teams wear the original hockey sweaters and we play at an outdoor rink. It’s a nostalgia thing.
“I’ll talk to Ward about us,” I add, “but I don’t think it’ll be an issue.” Pippa and Streicher dated last year when Pippa was working for the team.
“Thanks.” She plays with the ends of her hair, twiddling them between her fingers. “I’ll go to the game on Friday. Connor’s playing, right?”
I nod, and I can see the cogs turning in her head.
“I’ll sit with Pippa, and we’ll go out with the team after. I’m sure he’ll be there. That’s when we can—” Our eyes meet, and she seems to lose her train of thought. “Everyone will see us together.”
“And you’ll wear my jersey.” Pride weaves through me at the image.
“Um. No.” She makes a face. “I don’t wear guys’ jerseys.”
She wore McKinnon’s jersey, but I don’t bring that up. “If you want to get to McKinnon, you need to be all in. You’ll wear it.”
She holds my gaze for a long moment before I get a tiny nod. “And I want to tell Pippa the plan. She won’t believe it otherwise.”
“You don’t think I can be convincing?” I think about how her waist felt under my hand, how fucking incredible her hair smelled. “We should probably talk about boundaries, in case I go too far. Agree on a safe word and all that.”
Determination and fury flash in her pretty eyes. “I really want to fuck with him.” A beat. “You can’t go too far.”
Jesus Christ, Hartley’s hot when she’s pissed off. I’m half-hard. My eyes drop to her mouth. “No safe word. Got it.”
“Miller.”
“What?” I’m still staring at her mouth.
“This is fake.”
“I know.”
“Don’t get feelings.”
“I won’t.” I wonder if she’d let me kiss her in front of McKinnon.
She dips her head to catch my gaze. “You need to agree to that without staring at my mouth and drooling.”
A laugh slips out of me, and I wink at her. “I wasn’t drooling.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She clears her throat. “Seriously. Don’t get feelings, because I won’t.”
Dangerous. This is so fucking dangerous, playing this game with her. She’s going to get to know me and run screaming in the other direction. That’s the way it works with guys like my dad and me.
Still, I’m sticking my hand out to shake hers, pulse whooshing in my ears.
“It’s just for show.” I love how her eyes flare with something interesting as I step into her space. “You don’t need to tell me twice.”
My hand envelops hers, and my focus narrows to where we touch. Her hand is delicate and soft, fitting right into mine. She’s so pretty and mean and perfect, and this is going to fucking ruin me.
“Oh, Hartley.” I just give her my signature cocky smile. “This is going to be so, so fun.”
CHAPTER 6
HAZEL
Pippa’s already in her seat when I arrive before the game on Friday night. The arena is filled with excited fans, a sea of gray and blue Storm jerseys, and rock music plays, pumping everyone up. My body’s brimming with energy as I make my way to our seats behind the net, holding a pretzel in one hand and a beer in the other.
“Hi.” I drop into my seat. “Sorry that took so long. The line at concessions was ridiculous.”
A lie. I was stalling, circling the arena three times before finally getting in line.
Without a word, Pippa’s gaze goes to my jersey, and her eyebrows lift.
It was sitting on my desk this afternoon inside a gift box. Despite my aversion to wearing a jock’s name on me like I’m his property, Rory’s right. I have to wear his jersey if we want to sell this.
She’s still staring. “You’re wearing a jersey.”
I take a huge bite of my pretzel, choosing my words. It’s going to sound so stupid out loud.
“Hazel.” Now she’s really curious. “Lean forward.”
I swallow my bite. “When do you start working on the next album?”
God, I’m such a chicken. Miller’s name is practically burning on my back.
“Hazel. Whose name is on your back?”
My mouth is dry, and this pretzel tastes like glue. What, am I just going to sit here in this spot until she leaves the stadium?
I move so she can read it. “It’s not what it looks like.”
She blinks slowly. “Am I missing something?”
The lights in the arena dim, and a roar of cheers rises up as the players hit the ice. As he skates past, Rory winks at me, wearing a lazy, smug grin. Connor’s right behind him.