Like I’m gearing up to protect the net, I steal the puck, then fly down the ice. “That’s why I need to fire you.”
31
HOW TO OVERDELIVER
ISLA
“You’re…firing me?”
His nod is decisive. “Yep. From everything. I’m not a matchmaking clientoreven a coaching client anymore.”
The hair on my arms stands on end. “That’s…everything. But I thought I was doing a good job coaching you?”
Coaching doesn’t involve finger banging and you know it.
“You are. You were. You’re amazing. But this is the only way to do this,” he says with the kind of confidence he carries on the ice. He reaches for my hand again, holding it tight like he needs to reassure me. “We need to fake-date. No more of this practice-date stuff. We go all in with fake-dating—and I’ll take you to the gala on Christmas Eve.”
“R-Rowan,” I sputter. Because that’s nuts. Right? “We can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
That’s a good question. “Because,” I begin, but I’m spinning my wheels. Because…why can’t we?
He jumps on the chance to make his case. “Look, it just makes sense. My teammates started this back at theNutcracker Auction. They wanted me to have a date for the gala. You said you can’t date me if I’m a client. You also said, and I quote, ‘Listen to your date. Pay attention to what they say. Don’t fake it.’”
“And yet you’re suggesting we fake-date?” I ask, incredulous.
“But you saiddon’t fake paying attention. You never said don’t fake-date, and since I paid attention and listened, if I’m not your client anymore in any fashion, then I can beyourdate for the gala.”
My head spins. But the logic is vexingly good. Still, this is uncharted territory for me. “How the hell did we go from practice-dating to fake-dating?”
“This was always about the gala. If you’re with me that night, my teammates will be happy. My goal. And since I fired you, you no longer need to worry about a conflict of interest. Your goal,” he says.
It’s like a game of ping-pong in my brain. One being played way too fast for me to follow. “Right, but it sounds complicated.”
He runs a thumb over my hand, making me shiver unfairly. “It’s easy, sweetheart. It’s a trope. I learned about it fromTinsel Takes.”
“I literally just told you about that earlier tonight.”
“I’m a quick study. The idea was already taking shape, and while I was waiting for the hot cocoa, I googled it.Do you know how many holiday movies are about fake-dating?”
“Um, most of them?”
“Exactly. It’s like a breakaway shot. Honestly, I’m a little mad I didn’t think of it sooner. But now that I have, it’s what I want for Christmas, Isla.”
My lips part, but I don’t know what to say. Especiallyafter what he shared about his heartbreak. His hurt. And his daughter’s. How can I deny the former Christmas hater his Christmas wish?
A voice in my head answers immediately.You don’t want to deny him. You want this for Christmas too.
I want to shut up that voice for knowing me too well.
Still…fake-dating my brother’s best friend during Christmastime? Am I really going to say yes?
“Think about it,” he presses. “You were going to be my dating coach for the next week. We were going to practice-date anyway, right? But if we kept up with just practice-dates,” he continues, glancing around, “there’s a chance someone could see us practicing as I…” He stops. Curves a hand around the back of my neck, making my pulse race. “Touch you the way you want.”
He has a point there. One he reinforces when he drops a soft, sensual kiss to the base of my ear, then whispers, “But if we’re fake-dating, it’s no problem. Think of it like a cover. Protection,” he says, seductively, making me bend as I melt more into his open-mouth caress.
I pull away so I’m not distracted by his talented mouth. “So you’re un-clienting me to fake-date me?”
