He rolls his eyes. “I will always be here for my LA girl.”
“That’s Lower Alabama,” we say at the same time.
Poppy’s applying a fresh coat of lipstick when Taylor nods his head toward the door of the Tipsy Moose.
I turn to see several hockey players making their way inside, but not Z.
“OMG. I don’t see them for a while and I forget how tall they are.” Taylor lets out a low whistle. “I don’t see Zack.”
“Does he kiss well?” Poppy asks.
Fuck yes.
My body tingles, and I blush again. “It’s just a pretend relationship.”
“But you have kissed him?” she asks.
Oh, honey, it was way more than that. “Yes.”
Taylor looks at me. “Something is going on with you two.”
I munch on a chip. “Nope.”
He laughs. “Why do you lie when you know I can read you like a book?”
I roll my eyes.
He grins at me. “I’m wondering, Sugar—is his plumbing big enough for the building? Because sometimes those things aren’t built to code, feel me?”
“Who’s a plumber?” Poppy asks, her bright blue eyes locked on the hockey guys. “I’m confused.”
“He means his cock,” I say with a snort. “He’s asking about Z’s, um, size.”
“Un-huh. Z, is it?” he says, looking at me from over his drink. “Have you had…rebound sex…with him?” He gasps.
“I’m not answering that.”
“You’re a little minx for being coy, but there’s only one reason you look so happy tonight, and it’s because you got nailed by your new fake boyfriend.”
I toss a fry at him just as Zack walks up to the back entrance, which I have an excellent view of. He seems to take a deep breath then pushes his way inside.
He’s magnificent, his shoulders encased in that fitted grey leather jacket, his ass snug in a pair of weathered designer jeans, his feet in a pair of black Chucks. With his body and face, the man would look good wearing a sack.
With long, purposeful strides, he makes his way to the right side of the room where the bar curls around into a small lounge area with leather couches and a dartboard. There’s a murmur that goes through the crowd as he passes, and when he walks by a group of girls, they call out his name and send him finger waves. The redhead from the party—he called her Veronica—jumps up and follows him. He sort of drags her along with him as he takes a stool and orders something from the bartender that looks like a soda. She takes a seat next to him, talking animatedly, her hands brushing at his shoulders as if she’s picking imaginary lint off his clothes. He gives her a stern look and eases away.
As if he senses he’s being watched, his grey eyes look in the mirror on the back wall behind the bar and lock with mine.
He arches a brow. Well, well, well, says his pleased expression.
I feel a slow blush rising on my face. You’d think I’d be used to the way he looks at me, but I’m not.
Taylor lets out a little whistle. “That man is staring a hole through you.” He brushes at his hair, fluffing the ends. “How do I look?”
Poppy giggles. “Keep dreaming, Taylor.”
He clutches his chest. “You’re breaking my heart.”
They continue their banter, but I tune them out.
Z turns around, away from the bar, and my heart thumps with every second it takes for him to face me.
Tonight his jawline is scruffier, the dark beard in contrast to the caramel-blond highlights in his hair, and I think about how he got those lighter strands. I imagine they’re probably leftover from a summer spent at some exotic location. I picture him on some big fancy sailboat or a yacht with tanned girls in bikinis flanking him on either side.
Protect your heart, a voice says.
My phone pings with a text and I fumble around in my purse, pulling it out.
Hey, fake girlfriend. Want to rescue me from this girl?
My mouth quirks up and I raise my head to watch as he takes a sip of his drink with those eyes leveled at me.
Handle her yourself, is my reply. You seem to know her well enough.
I went to prep school with her. Trust me, not interested. Jealous already?
I look up and he’s grinning at me even as she’s trying to get his attention.
I once had a puppy who yipped like that, I send.
Please come to me, Miss Ryan.
Come to me. His words are intoxicating and I inhale a sharp breath. Poppy looks from me to him then squints. “He’s really focused in on you.”
“He’s intense,” I murmur, thinking back to the Kappa house.
She takes a sip of her martini. “Dang, he’s so damn hot.”
“Amen,” Taylor says softly. “Watching him stare at you is almost as good as watching Khal Drogo and Daenerys eye-fuck each other. Shit, love, go get your fake boyfriend before those bitches do. Ask and you shall receive.”
Fine, fine, fine.
I can do this. I’m not sure why I’m so anxious anyway. It’s just pretend. I gulp down the rest of my tequila and stand up.
A slow, knowing, sexy smile settles on Zack’s face.
14
Zack
After an intensive practice and dinner in the athletic cafeteria, the guys and I head to the Tipsy Moose. I park and they get out while I stay in the car for a few minutes, practicing my deep breathing. There’s an anxious pit of worry in my gut about our upcoming game. Sure, we won our last one, but the next opponent is a tougher team, which means more pressure. Even with the loss to Minnesota-Duluth, we’re still ranked at number five, and that brings its own kind of pressure with trying to stay there.
Another nightmare hit this morning at four. Knowing I couldn’t go back to sleep, I went for another run then circled back to the house exhausted and worn out. Then at practice, I gave up several faceoffs, and that shit never happens. I’m the fastest one out there, but you wouldn’t know it by the way I played today. I rub at my wrist, nursing the bruise I got from a defenseman’s clean check when I cut in front of him to push the puck in. Instead he slammed me into the wall and I landed wrong.
After a few minutes, I’m feeling more centered and walk inside. Eric and Reece and some of the guys are at the dartboard, and I make my way to the bar to meet up with Boone, one of our freshman players who I’m mentoring. All the seniors get a “little brother” and he’s mine, a talented center from Chicago. Veronica sees me and follows, asking about Eric’s birthday party and what decorations I think would work. I tune her out, telling her she can do whatever she wants, and Boone joins shortly after.
A tingling sensation washes over me as I sit here, and I look up to the mirror then pause mid-sentence.
Sugar.
A few teasing texts later, I watch as she gets out of the booth and faces me.
The first thing I notice tonight is how long her legs are, the way her leggings cling to her voluptuous curves. I’m discovering something new about her each time I see her. My gaze lingers on her tits, and for the hundredth time, I wonder what she’d look like splayed out on my bed naked.
“Sheee-it. Nice rack,” Boone says appreciatively, his gaze following mine.