She fidgets with the zipper of her coat. “Visibility. Recognition. Having a high-profile relationship, especially with a local hero and star athlete, would boost my appeal to a broader audience.”
“You need me to get the sportscaster position back from Donny.” It’s not a question.
“Yes. But it helps you and me. A win-win.”
Too bad for her—I don’t give a shit what the press thinks of me. I’m just fine with my playboy image, and given my injury, I don’t know where my career’s headed, anyway. I also don’t need Sydney Holt lingering around all the time, annoying the shit out of me and tempting me to do things to her, like give her the kind of orgasms that’d knock the sass right out of her. And then there’s that vow to Jonah.
“Absolutely not.” The words come out colder than I intended.
Sydney blinks. “Excuse me?”
“I said no. Not interested. Not happening.” I push off from the railing, ready to end this conversation and get back to Meema. “Find another way to boost your ratings.”
Her face flushes, but not from the cold this time.
Guilt washes over me, but I can’t tell Sydney the truth—that there’s no relationship for me—not even a fake one—with anybody. My life’s too complicated, too fucked. And the last thing Meema needs is to get attached to the idea of me and Sydney together, only to break her heart. Because thingshaveto end.
So instead, I lash out. “Sorry. I’d rather walk over fire than pretend to love you.”
Her eyes narrow to dangerous slits. “Trust me, it’d be no picnic for me either. To watch you remove your dentures at night? Gross.”
“I have all my teeth, thank you very much,” I spit back, offended. “Not that you’ll have to worry about that.”
“And thank God for that. You’re probably horrible in bed anyway—doing what you do best—pleasing yourself.”
I step closer, invading her space. “You have no idea what I’m capable of in bed, Sydney.”
“Oh, I can imagine. Big in the head, small in the bed.” She doesn’t back down, tilting her chin up to maintain eye contact. “Do you still kiss like a rattlesnake? Because Stephanie Berger told everyone about it.”
That one lands harder than it should. “I was in ninth grade, Sydney.” Stephanie was my first girlfriend, and we were both fumbling teenagers with no idea what we were doing. “I’m quite skilled with my tongue now, thank you very much. For several purposes.” I let my gaze drop to her lips for just a second. “But you’ll never find out.”
“Good.”
We’re standing toe to toe now, the air between us crackling with tension. She doesn’t deserve my assholery. It’s not her fault I’m in this situation, but I’ve got to push her away.
I’m so focused on our argument, I almost miss the rustling sound from the bushes near the porch steps. Sydney hears it too, her head turning toward the noise.
Two familiar brown shapes waddle into view, their flat tails dragging in the snow.
Sydney’s anger instantly melts away as she crouches down. “What are you two doing here?”
The beavers approach cautiously, their beady eyes fixed on us.
“Floyd and Fiona always come looking for breakfast.” My own irritation fades at the sight of the animals.
“You know their names?” Sydney looks up at me, surprised.
“Of course I do. They’re family.” I kneel beside Fiona, reaching into my coat pocket for the apple slices I’d grabbed earlier for them. “Floyd’s the bigger one with the notch in his tail. Fiona’s his mate.”
“I know who they are. Fiona was pregnant last spring. I helped Maisie set up that den area for them by the south end of the lake.”
The beavers waddle closer to me, their little paws reaching for the apple slices.
“They like me better,” I say, because apparently, I’m five years old.
“Please. I’ve been bringing them treats three times a week since May. Fiona literally sits on my feet when I visit.”
“I’ve known them since they were kits. Floyd used to follow me around the lake when I would skate.”
