“Don’t keep me in suspense.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement.
“During the colder months, you can reserve a heated igloo.”
“Heated igloos? No way.”
“You have to see it to believe it. After the recent renovations, Logan went all out. The outdoor movie nights inside custom-built igloos for the winter months are a crowd favorite. Each igloo has a flat screen TV encased in a box, made to look like an old-fashioned 60s style television.”
“That sounds awesome.”
“When it snows, it gives a reverse snow globe affect.”
She shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”
“We’ll have to come back when the igloos are up—” The suggestion slips from my lips before I can think better of it.
She arches a brow as if to say,this fake relationship is temporary.
I clear my throat. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“You’ve made big promises. I can’t wait to see if you’ve oversold The Fifth rooftop bar.”
“Here’s the deal,” I say. “If you’re not absolutely satisfied, we’ll give you your money back. No questions asked.”
She cracks up.
Making her laugh is my new favorite hobby.
I extend a hand.
She takes it before tucking her clutch under her arm.
Like every time I touch her, it’s like sticking my finger in an electric socket.
Chapter 27
My best resting bitch face
Harley
Kaz is debating with three other men about a recent draft for a team—a young guy from Sweden. I can’t remember if it’s Los Angeles or Las Vegas. Everyone here is well-versed in hockey. I’m not. The conversations go way over my head.
I’ll have to beef up my knowledge for my new position because it seems like I need to eat, breathe, and sleep hockey for any social events that require a fake girlfriend.
I drop my champagne flute on a passing waiter’s tray and turn to face Kaz.
He stops talking, his blue eyes colliding into mine.
He’s so in tune with my every need.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I say.
“All right. I’ll still be here, explaining to these guys why Las Vegas got it wrong with their pick.”
The men chuckle.
I make my way through the crowded terrace, packed with two hundred people who didn’t hesitate to drop an ungodly amount of money on a plate to support athletically gifted kids. Isail past a photographer corralling a group of six smiling, rich people for a photo.
It’s good to be them.
