Page 6

Chapter 6

Sounds Like A Date to Me

Gabe

“ Fuck ,” Wade mumbles between rough kisses. “What are you doing to me?”

His big, stupid, soft lips crush mine again, the slithery tip of his tongue greedy in its swipes. An unintentional pleasured noise hums between us. My mind melts from how our hands wander over each other until something else of his that’s big and firm digs into my thigh. It brings me back to my senses, and I push him away by the chest, propelling off the door to get as far away as possible.

“Me? What are you doing?”

The smartass huffs out a series of chuckles. I don’t know what he thinks is so funny. “I think the technical term is ‘French kissing.’”

“Well,” I fumble through the words, arms flailing while heading to the opposite end of the room, “stop doing that!”

“I will when you stop liking it.”

Unbelievable.

My teeth clench. “I didn’t. Like it.”

“That’s funny. I coulda sworn it was you moaning into my mouth.”

“ Excuse me ? I did not moan—” When I spin around to face him, he’s shirtless. How’d he do that so fast? “What the fuck, Wade?”

“Oh, uh —are we not…” —the grasped tee flaps between us, drawing attention to every cut of his insanely chiseled chest— “…doing this?”

“No!” I screw my eyes shut. “Put your shirt back on. For fuck’s sake.”

“My bad.” The black fabric returns to his torso, falling over it like a closing curtain. Show’s over. And good riddance. I don’t need the temptation. He shoots me a double-finger gun with snaps. “You were awesome in there, though. Was really cool of you to stick up for me.”

“It’s called acting .”

“Right, yeah. Me too.” His fancy hand flourish accompanies a deep bow. “You’re welcome for that brilliant performance.”

“Brilliant? You brought your dick into the conversation!”

“A penis is just a body part, Freckles.” He catches me staring while his hand adjusts the crotch of his jeans and smirks. “My best body part, as you already know . And hey, it’s nothing they haven’t seen before.”

I snort. “I get it. You have a reputation. But not everyone has seen your penis.”

“Nah, not everyone,” he says through a yawn. “Though, now that I think of it, every person in that room has.”

“Everyone?” I’m positive he constantly peacocks around the lockers naked. But in front of the wives? Doubt it. “Skylar?”

“She’s my best friend. Of course, she’s seen it.”

I have a hard time holding back my surprise. It’s embarrassingly tinged with jealousy. “You slept with her?”

“ Ew , no!” Wade gurgles out a vomiting noise and shudders. “She’s like my sister. I had a hernia when I was seventeen and didn’t know what was going on, so she took a peek and helped me out.”

Fine. I can’t let him have the point so easily.

“Indi was in there, too,” I argue.

Wade lets out a lopsided smile. “Like I said, every person in that room has seen it.”

My smug expression drops. “Indi’s seen your penis?”

“Yep.”

No way. She never told me.

“Does Landon know?”

That man’s possessive at a toxic level. I once heard from another journalist that he threatened to shove a hockey stick up an ex-teammate’s ass for touching her, and they weren’t even dating yet.

Wade nods with excitement. “He was there. It was the first time we all met. She came into the locker room, and Landon and I were…” Wade makes a clang and wields an invisible sword from his crotch.

“I’m sorry.” My eyes narrow. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

Wade answers with a childish grin. “Sword fighting.”

“I thought that’s when you try to” —I mime the action of aiming a penis— “hit each other’s streams of pee…”

“That’s the twelve-year-old version.”

“So you were…” I cross my index fingers, “…with your…”

“What can I say? I’m comfortable enough in my sexuality that it doesn’t bother?—”

“ Christ ,” I grumble, face hidden behind my hand. I’ll ask Indi about it later. “But was it necessary to tell everyone we slept together after their wedding?”

“It’s one of the only true parts of this conjured-up scenario. They already suspected something.” He shrugs. “I had to think fast.”

We share a sigh.

“I can’t believe we lied to our friends.” I crumple onto the bed. Wade’s bed. In his hotel room. That we’re alone in.

White sheets cool my sweaty palms as I smooth their wrinkles away from me. They’re nicer than the ones in my room, the mattress plusher. Plush. Like his lips. The reminder has my eyes searching for them, and it doesn’t take long. They’re within reach from where he sits next to me. Raised veins on his propped arm shift under flawless, taut skin.

A swallow descends the column of his neck, reminding me how good it looked under my palm. The night from a year ago returns in a flash.

Aged wood and the vintage gold plate fitted with the assigned number contrasted with the high-tech black box surrounding the hotel room’s door handle. I unfolded my right hand to reveal its matching black fob on a keychain, hot and clammy from sitting in my grip.

Nerves kept me from knocking.

I should not be doing this. What if someone’s in there with him? No one can know.

Ear pressed to the door, I waited for some sort of indication that it was okay to enter , but only a muted buzz came through. Without a chance to rethink, I accidentally brushed the key too close to its lock while resting a hand on the wooden surface.

It clicked and creaked open to an empty foyer. The door clapped shut, and I winced, each cautious step taking me closer to the bed, which was also empty.

I followed a sliver of light from the floor to its source— the washroom —at the same time as Wade appeared in its entryway. Naked except for a white towel tucked low on his hips, their arches tapered to a defined v below a nearly perfect set of abs and pecs wide enough to sleep on. I gulped.

His saunter stalled, large hands pausing from drying his hair with another towel. Darkened brown strands fell across his forehead. Wade’s gaze softened as my lower lip pinched between my teeth.

“You’re here.”

Two of his long strides closed the short distance between us. My pulse pounded. A shaky breath exited my nose.

“I have no idea why.”

Girl, please. You know exactly why.

He dropped the towel in hand to the mattress, a lust-sparked expression relishing the gentle stroke of his warmed knuckles over my cheek. Calloused fingertips drew a line down my throat to the collarbone before curling around it with his palm. Goosebumps trailed behind.

“I do.” The light pressure of his grasp had my legs buckling beneath me. A sparse strip of chest hair trailed down his stomach and directed me to the massive bulge behind his towel.

My mouth watered.

“On your knees, Freckles,” Wade demanded, guiding me to the low-pile carpet below. “Need you to undo what you’ve been doing to me all night.”

“I didn’t like that part either.” The hoarse whisper of his voice blurs the memory away and pulls me back to his focus on my mouth. I inhale the mint on his breath. His gaze lifts to mine, the deep umber tones swirling like melted chocolate. “We can tell them the truth after it’s over.” A wild rhythm climbs from my heart into my throat. The pink tip of his tongue breaks through the seam of his lips. “We did what we had to.”

Oh, God. It’s his I’m-about-to-kiss-you face. Run!

I leap up, evading the attempt. Wade forces out an airy laugh and runs a hand through the mussy wisps of his hair while glancing at the ceiling.

“Okay, first things first.” My legs lead a manic pace across the room despite the uncomfortable, growing wetness between them. “We are not actually sleeping together.”

“ Pfft , duh.” One of his broad shoulders lifts and drops. “I didn’t wanna do that with you anyway.”

One eyebrow shoots up. “You wanted to a second ago.”

“Only ‘cause I thought you wanted to.” He drops back to his elbows, dragging his eyes down my frame. “Who am I to deny Gabe Finch?”

My eyes roll closed. The Advil is effective, but a brand-new headache in town brews. He’s named Wade Boehner. The man is testing me.

“Then let me make it crystal clear. At no point will we be sleeping together. That’s not part of this fake dating… deal … thing .” Words evaporate as Wade rises and stalks toward me, eyes unwavering. “Can’t make that…mistake. Again.”

“Who are you trying to convince, Freckles?”

Valid question.

No, not valid!

“No one,” I lie.

“Whatever, baby .” He keeps saying it like that, all snippy. “But if we want to make this believable, we have to do better. I hate to admit it, but Indi’s right. I don’t know you well enough. Your birthday, your preferences. If you were my girlfriend, I’d know everything about you.”

“If I were your girlfriend, I’d have to be sedated—” My phone alarm interrupts the tirade with a notification for my upcoming flight. “Shit. I have to get to the airport.” And get back to my room to pack. I scramble toward the door. “We’ll have to schedule something…”

Wade’s mouth explodes into a smirk. “Gabriella Finch, are you asking me out?”

He’s only a few inches taller than me but somehow appears bigger as he nears.

“That’s not my name, and no. We’re…meeting up.”

His hand reaches the overhang by the door and leans forward. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“Shut up.” I glower and wave my phone. “When are you back in Ottawa?”

“Wednesday.”

“ Great . I’m back Thursday. Put it on your calendar.”

“ Oooh , direct. I like your game.” He reaches into his pocket to retrieve his phone, but my patience wears thin. I snatch it from him.

“Here’s my number.”

His tongue clicks. “Nothing turns me on like a bold woman.”

That’ll do it. I’m definitely not attracted to him.

“Do you hear yourself? There.” I hit save on the created event and hand the phone back. “Thursday at 5 p.m.”

“It’s a date.”

“You wish. It’s an interview. I’ll have questions ready. You do the same.”

“Sounds good, Freckles. I’ll pick the place and text you.”

“You’re a terrible listener. Didn’t I say not to call me that?”

“False! Your boyfriend is a great listener.”

“Get away from me.” I scowl over my shoulder on my way out.

His hand cups one side of his mouth. “Miss you already, Freckles!”

I grumble and ignore his ridiculous behavior while mashing the elevator button.

And I’m supposed to keep from murdering him for the next four months? Lord, help me.

The crew socializes with the Winnipeg Blazers as we wait for the charter plane to arrive. I settle into a quiet corner of the lounge in prep for my pre-flight routine.

Dad’s picture pops up while the FaceTime call rings. It’s from four years ago, after the first NHL game I covered, his goofy, gaping smile pretending to use my held-out mic while we half-hug.

The top half of his head answers. “ Balaaaaa .”

My heart twinges at the nickname my mother used. No matter how long it’s been since her passing, the word always comes out in her voice. Will it ever stop doing that?

“Daaaaaad,” I whine.

“What? Kai jhala?” Concern wrinkles his brow.

The wound of her absence deepens when he speaks to me in Marathi, too.

“Move the phone down.” I repeat myself when the screen skews. “ Dad .”

He adjusts to show his body going lax and his head lolling to his chest.

“Dad! What are you doing?”

“You said ‘dead!’ I thought it was a command. I played dead.”

“Very funny.”

Dad snickers. “I thought so.”

“Can we stick to English, please?”

Mouth pulling into a frown, he tilts his head. “I miss the days when my little girl called me Baba.”

Shame fills my breath. I avert my eyes off-camera. It’s been ages. Dad lets out a long-winded breath and changes the subject, thank God. The sweet man shakes off his disappointment. “What’s up?”

“I’m at the airport, about to board.”

“Very nice. Appreciate you always calling before. Where are you headed?”

“Vancouver.” Metal clinks in the background as he sets the phone down. “How’s the nursery?”

“It’s alright.” Dad steps aside and extends an arm. “The mums came in. Hoping to sell lots of fall foliage and hay bales before cuetlaxochitl season.”

“What about staffing?”

He hisses. “Dicey. It’s hard to find reliable help.”

“You mean you want to do it all yourself.”

“It’s easier this way.”

“ Dad . You’re supposed to be slowing down.”

“And do what? I love being in the greenhouse.”

“I know, and I’m not trying to keep you from it, but” —my fingers find a tense spot between my eyebrows and press— “I wish you’d get someone to do the heavy lifting at least. How about when I come home for Thanksgiving?—”

“ Ah , tut-tut-tut.” He waves a hand to deny me. “Home is for rest. Will you bring that new boyfriend of yours along?”

No way.

“I wasn’t planning on?—”

“Come on, bala. Why not?”

The genuine excitement in his pale blue eyes is hard to crush.

“Can’t promise anything. I don’t know if he’s playing that weekend or not?—”

“Details. You’ll figure it out. Man, he must be something special for you to?—”

Something special, alright. A special pain in my ass.

“ Hey, Tez! ” Someone calls in the background. “ I’ve got the truck out front. ”

“Be right there!” His eyes furrow with apology. “I gotta go. Crowley’s here to get some new tree saplings. We’ll talk later?”

“Yep. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, bala.”

He disappears from the screen. It darkens to reveal my pathetic reflection in its wake.

Wade Boehner is gonna meet my dad.

I am so fucked.