She’d never gotten the impression that Tank ever looked at the team’s social media, but she’d learned otherwise. He’d been the one to show her the video posted by the Pee Wee hockey mom.
“Yeah,” she replied.
Tank grinned. “Chuck obviously thought the same thing.”
“It’s a crazy idea,” she said, ready to put an end to this nonsense. “I’ll tell Benny and?—”
“Now hold on. I didn’t say it was a bad idea. I’m just curious.” Tank’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You think you got what it takes to be my girlfriend, Mouse?”
Her nervousness vanished, replaced by a more familiar emotion. She crossed her arms. “I wouldn’t be your girlfriend. It would be fake.”
“Fake. How does that even work?” he asked.
“We’d just have to be seen together in public, maybe holding hands, and um…” God, McKenna’s cheeks were on fire. At this rate, she’d spontaneously combust before they got out of this office.
“And?” he prodded, enjoying her discomfiture way too much.
“And I’d sit in the team’s box for the next few games. Probably wear your jersey.”
“And?” he repeated.
“And what?”
“Well, if you and Benny and Roger are asking me to take myself off the market for…”
“Five months,” she said softly.
“Five months.” He blew out a low whistle. “That’s a long time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not really,” she lied because that was a hell of a long time for her to try to resist this pull she felt toward the sexy hockey star.
“It seems to me that if we’re really going to sell it, we’d have to do more than just hold hands. We’re not in middle school.”
“I’m not having sex with you just because you can’t stay out of trouble and keep it in your pants.”
Tank threw up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said anything about sex? Damn, woman, what kind of man do you think I am?”
McKenna tilted her head. “I know very well what kind.”
He smirked, giving her the same list he’d rattled off at their original meeting. “Manwhore, playboy, asshole…”
Five weeks ago, she agreed with every single descriptor.
Now…none of them seemed to fit. At least, not quite as well as they had.
She shrugged and returned a cocky grin of her own, refusing to let him get the upper hand. “Why don’t you cut to the chase, Tank? Aannnnnd what?” she drawled, tossing his question back at him.
“If we’re really going to convince people we’re a couple, in addition to the dating, hand-holding, and team box photo ops, we’d have to kiss. And because I’m a PDA kind of guy, it wouldn’t be PG and it would be a lot. You think you’re up to that, Mouse?”
“I’ve been kissed before, Tank. And it’s not like these would be real kisses. They’d just be for show. We’d be like…actors in a movie.”
Tank didn’t reply to that, but she got the sense he was really considering what she was proposing.
She thought Tank rejecting the idea would be the worst thing.
She was wrong.
Because the thought of the two of them kissing—a lot—was more than her heart could take.
