With a bright and buoyant smile, she asks, “Yeah?” Like she’s enchanted by the idea of us both letting go of the people who’ve hurt us.
I tug on the hem of the shirt of mine she’s wearing. “I did. It’s been a while. But yes, I felt it. And sure, I don’t want to go down that path again. Not one damn bit,” I say. “The thought of opening myself up again is?—”
“Like a puck to the face?” she says lightly, masking the real worry underneath.
I lean over and drop a quick, firm kiss to her lips. “Exactly.”
But the truth is, I don’t want to be replaced, like I was in my marriage. I fought like hell to be a good husband, just like I work my ass off to be indispensable on the ice.
As I stroke this lovely woman’s hair and talk with her late into the night, I’m starting to think I could feel that way again—vulnerable, hopeful, and most of all,ready.
My chest tightens uncomfortably at the thought.
I need to enjoy this thing with Skylar for what it is—a fake romance. “That’s why it’s a good thing this is fake,right?” I ask, forcing myself to sound easygoing when my heart feels the opposite.
She tenses under my touch. But it seems to pass with a quick, decisive nod. “Absolutely,” she says. “With everything going on, it just makes sense.”
“Andthis,” I say, doubling down with a gesture from her to me, “will make our fake romance more believable.”
She’s quiet for a beat. “Because your dick’s been inside me?”
Ah, hell. I’m an idiot. Time to walk this back. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant the sex helps the fakeness,” I sputter.
With adid you really say thatsmile, she waits for me to dig my hole deeper.
“I meant…I just meant…we seem believable.”
I’m not sure that’s any better. But as I search for forgiveness in her eyes, I find humor dancing there, delight at my faux pas. She’s not offended by my remarks. She’s having fun with me, the way she does. Because she wants a fake romance too.
I sigh with relief. “I thought you were pissed.”
“Because you just implied fucking me makes a fake romance more plausible?”
When you put it like that…“Yeah,” I say, utterly chastened.
She gestures to her dog on the floor, staring at me again with disdain. “Don’t worry. He’s got enough side-eye for both of us.”
I laugh. I’ve been exonerated, but I know I was kind of a dick. “You can mention this on your podcast.”
“Your dick? My dog’s judgment? Or how you just put your foot in your mouth?”
There she goes, calling me out fearlessly. It makes mystupid heart beat faster, and I’m back to where I was an hour ago.
Falling for her.
Correction: falling even further.
I shut myself up by kissing her, then sliding between those warm thighs and giving her one more of the many orgasms she deserves. Then, another.
Sometime after midnight, she curls up in the dark under the covers, and I do something that surprises me even.
I scoop up the little dog and let him sleep on the bed.
Well, it’s only fair. Zamboni’s already at the foot of the mattress, that perfect little pooch.
The next day I’m walking Skylar to the front door. It’s surreal and weird at the same time, saying goodbye to someone who lives fifty feet away. “Do you want breakfast?” I ask, trying to prolong the inevitable.
She shakes her head, her red hair even wilder in the morning. Well, lots of sex and little sleep will do that to you. “I’ll grab some nuts and a piece of fruit. I have to head to the Dogpatch District anyway to pick up some items for other clients.”
