Page 8

CHAPTER 8

FOX

“Sorry!” I yell as I race up the first portion of what looks to be a never-ending staircase to where she’s waiting for me. “I know I’m late. We had a promo thing that lasted forever, and then there was traffic because this is Seattle, and that’s just the way of life here, and I’m just so…sorry.”

The last word slips off my lips in a whisper as I get a look at my date for the evening. Lilah looked gorgeous at the New Year’s Eve party, but tonight? In a floor-length midnight-purple dress that hugs every inch of her curves? Well, I probably shouldn’t have worn such tight pants, that’s for sure.

My cock grows hard against my slacks, and I hope like hell my lateness is enough to distract Lilah from the fact that I have a boner right now. I try to think about any and everything else, something to distract me, but it’s no use. Instead, I pretend what’s happening in my pants isn’t happening as I close the gap between us.

“You look… Well, breathtaking is a word that comes to mind.”

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Lilah blushes, and I take entirely too much pleasure in that.

She brushes a hand over her hair, which looks flawless. “I bet you a hundred bucks my mother will have something to complain about when we walk in there.”

I hate that she’s likely right.

“And I will gladly tell her she’s wrong.”

Her blue eyes flash toward me, and I’m rewarded with another blush.

“Come on,” she says, wrapping her hand around my arm. “We’d better get in there before she sends the army out looking for me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You’d be surprised by the connections she has.”

She says it so casually I might actually believe her, and for the first time, I’m nervous about meeting her mother.

“Remind me again everything you’ve told her?” I say as we climb the rest of the impossibly tall set of stairs.

Lilah texted me a few times while we were on the road for two games earlier this week, letting me know her mother had called her at least thrice daily to discuss our relationship. Apparently, she’s taken it upon herself to make up whatever she wants. Last I heard, our first date included a ride on a donkey down Queen Anne Hill. No idea where we got the donkeys or gumption to do this, but it made me laugh nonetheless.

“Well, we met through mutual friends. You made the first move after crushing on me for months, and you fell completely head over heels for me because my rack looked incredible on our first date.”

“On our donkey ride?”

“The one and only.”

“And your mother believes all this?”

She laughs loudly. “Absolutely not. But she doesn’t have a choice, does she? We’re dating.”

“And your father? What does he think?”

She pats my arm as we reach the top of the stairs. “Oh, Arthur. You have so much to learn. My dad couldn’t care less.”

There she goes again, calling me by my first name. I don’t think I’ve ever liked someone saying it so much. But as much as I enjoy it, her words still make me sad. I wish her parents weren’t so horrible to her and were more involved in her life outside of what they want for her. She deserves that.

I stop walking, and she comes to a halt along with me. Even in her heels, she’s much shorter than my six-foot-five frame, tilting her head back to look up at me.

“Yes?” she asks, her long, dark lashes perfectly framing her gorgeous blue eyes.

“I…” I roll my tongue over my bottom lip, and she tracks the movement before dragging her stare back to mine. “I just want you to know if these people treat you like shit in front of me, there’s a good chance I’m not going to be able to hold my tongue. I can’t be responsible for what comes out of my mouth.”

Lilah blinks once, slowly. Then again.

And finally, the corner of her glossy pink lips kicks up.

“Good,” she says.

“Good?” I echo.

She lifts a delicate shoulder. “Honestly, it kind of turns me on when you say things like that.”

I choke. Fall right into a coughing fit so bad Lilah beats on my back, trying to get me to breathe properly.

“You okay?” she asks when I’ve finally calmed down.

“You can’t say things like that, Lilah.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes me like you.”

“You should like me, boyfriend .” She winks at me, then loops her arm back through mine. “Come on. Let’s get this shitshow over with.”

We walk into the hotel—which doesn’t look half as good as The Sinclair if I’m being honest—and follow the signs to the ballroom.

“You grew up with Auden, right?” I ask Lilah.

“I did. We’ve been best friends since we were ten.”

“So your parents should know her.” She nods, even though it’s not a question. “How come this party isn’t being held at The Sinclair?”

Lilah snorts, the noise so loud it echoes off the high ceilings. “My parents aren’t the biggest fans of Auden.”

“What? Why? Auden’s awesome.”

“She is awesome, possibly the greatest person I know, and I love her like a sister. But I grew up with a lot more money than Auden did.”

“Her father was an NHL player, right?”

“Yes, but it was never enough for them. They considered them to be rich but on the lower end of rich. Which I find extremely funny now considering Auden’s net worth is more than my father could ever imagine.” Lilah grins like she’s immensely pleased by this, and I can’t say I blame her. It makes me even more proud of Auden than I already am. “Another reason they were so upset I continued working with her.”

I still don’t understand how they can be so unimpressed by what Lilah has done for Auden’s company, don’t get why they talk about her job like all she did was staple papers together all day—not that there’s anything wrong with that—never mind keep Auden’s business going for her. I’m now even less excited to meet these people, and the bar was already incredibly low.

“Why are you attending this party again?”

She trips like my words have caught her off guard, and I catch her effortlessly.

“Thanks,” she mutters as we approach the two doors between us and this party I have a feeling Lilah doesn’t want to be part of. “I don’t know. I’m…I’m being a dutiful daughter, I guess. Have you ever felt like that before? Like you’re doing something you don’t want to do just to be a good child to your parents?”

“Why do you think I’m such an incredible dancer? I didn’t want those lessons, but my mother insisted.”

She laughs. “Yes, that’s exactly the same thing, Fox.”

It’s not, and we both know it, but maybe humor is the only way she can get through this. When we’re just a few feet from the doors, Lilah stops, her arm falling away from mine as she stares down the door. She takes a deep breath, then another, like she’s readying herself for battle, and for her, she really might be.

“I’m right here,” I tell her softly, reaching my pinky finger out and tracing it against hers.

She glances down at where our digits touch, a small smile on her lips.

“My hero,” she mutters, and even though she’s going for sarcasm, there’s a hint of sincerity to her words, and it has my chest feeling tight in a way I’m not expecting.

I’ve known Lilah at arm’s length for the last year and always thought she was fun, a total good time. But seeing this other side of her lately? It’s making me question everything I’ve known about her, and it makes me like her even more.

She slips her hand into mine, then squeezes it tight. “Here goes nothing.”

The staff pulls open the doors in sync as if they’ve practiced it, and we’re instantly hit with the sound of classical music. I can’t help but laugh—nearly every person is dressed in a muted color and over the age of sixty, at least. This is such a far cry from how we spent last weekend.

“What’s so funny?” Lilah asks, looking up at me.

“It’s just…” I shake my head. “Well, last week, we were dancing to nineties and early 2000s music, and now it’s Vivaldi. Based on the color scheme here, I’m pretty sure this is secretly a funeral.”

“Why do you think I had so much fun last weekend? I knew this one would suck. I—oh, champagne!” She snatches a glass from the tray a server holds and immediately tosses it back like a shot. When she notices me staring, she lifts a single brow. “What? I’m just pre-gaming.”

I shake my head but can’t help but grin as we push through the party, searching for Lilah’s parents, I assume. Several people smile at us, some even whispering behind their hands as we pass, something I’ve only seen happen in movies, but we don’t let that stop us.

We don’t stop until we come face to face with the woman I saw on the phone, and I’m instantly blown away by how much Lilah looks like her mother in proper lighting. Selene’s hair is pulled back in a sleek bun, her eyes the same shade of blue as her daughter’s, and even the way she holds her nose just slightly upturned is the same way Lilah carries herself. It’s eerie.

“Lilah!” her mother exclaims, throwing her arms wide and pulling her daughter into a tight hug.

To most people, it looks like a sweet embrace, but to me? Well, I can see the rigid set of Lilah’s shoulders, can see how stiff she is against her mother’s touch. I can feel the tension radiating from her, and that’s after a glass of champagne.

Her mother grabs her cheeks, smiling at her like she’s the greatest accomplishment in her life, but I still see the way the woman subtly fixes Lilah’s makeup under her left eye, how tight her grip is, how her blue gaze hardens, and how forced her smile becomes with each passing second. I’ve never seen someone so subtly cut someone down before.

“I am so happy you could join us,” Selene says as she releases her daughter.

Translation: You’re late.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Lilah tells her. She steps back, immediately twining our fingers together once more. Something about it feels desperate, like she’s not seeking me out for show but for support.

I’ll gladly provide it. I squeeze her hand three times, silently repeating my words from earlier, hoping she catches it.

I’m right here.

She squeezes mine back twice.

Thank you.

Or at least that’s what I take it as.

“Where’s Dad?” Lilah asks.

Her mother waves her hand. “Your father is around here somewhere.” Her eyes swing my way, and I hold her sharp stare, refusing to back down. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your boyfriend , dear?”

Another squeeze from Lilah.

“Mother,” she says, dropping my hand, “this is Arthur Fox. Fox, this is my mother, Selene Maddison.”

“Fox?” Selene asks. “You go by your last name?” Her nose turns up at this.

“Hockey thing,” Lilah explains.

I take Selene’s hand in mine, pressing a kiss to the back of it. I hold eye contact with her the entire time, just as I was taught.

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Mrs. Maddison, and may I say, you look even more gorgeous in person.”

Just like that, the ice is broken, and her mother’s nose comes back down, her shoulders relaxing. She grins, and it’s a far different smile than she gave her daughter. It’s warm. Genuine. Loving .

“I thought we talked about this. You can call me Selene.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

Selene laughs, tittering. “Oh, my. I like you, Arthur.” She rejects using my preferred name, and I like it far less than when Lilah says it. “Come. I’d love for you to meet my husband.”

Selene all but pushes her daughter out of the way, twisting her arm around mine and pulling me through the party.

“Sure. I’ll just follow along,” Lilah says quietly behind us, and I barely contain my laugh.

Selene leads us to Lilah’s father, who is gathered with a group of men with potbellies, barely there hair on their heads, and beady eyes. Somehow, they all look different and completely the same at once.

“Deacon, my love,” Selene calls just as the group falls into fits of boisterous laughter.

Her face contorts into frustration before snapping back into an amiable smile, as if she’s remembered she’s in public. Her inside feelings show on the outside, interrupting her facade of perfection.

“Deacon!” she says, more sharply this time, her smile still creepily in place, hand still hanging on to my arm. Her grip is growing tighter by the second, thanks to escalating irritation.

A man—who I assume is Deacon based on his reaction—snaps his attention to Selene and breaks into a smile.

“My beautiful wife!” he bellows, and if I had to guess from the ruddiness of his cheeks, Deacon here has had quite a few drinks. His eyes drift to me, and there’s not a shadow of displeasure in them. I’m unsure if I should be unarmed by that or not. “Who is this?”

“This, my love, is Arthur Fox. Lilah’s boyfriend .”

It’s the second time she’s said it like that, and I can’t tell if it’s because she thinks lowly of me or of the term boyfriend, like it’s not good enough. That would track, considering everything Lilah has told me about her parents.

“Ah. Right. The boyfriend .” He says it in the same way his wife does, and it has me grinding my molars together, especially when he looks at his friends and rolls his eyes.

What is wrong with these people?

He steps toward me, hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you, boy. What do you do for a living?”

It’s the same thing his wife asked me on New Year’s Eve. Is that all these people care about? What someone does for a living?

“Now, Deacon, I told you that,” Selene says as I grip her husband’s hand in mine. “He’s a professional hockey player, remember?”

“How could I forget that?” His grasp is limp, as if he never learned how to shake hands properly. “How’s the season going?”

I release his hand, trying not to react to my least favorite question. I don’t want to talk about hockey. I just want to be here to support Lilah.

“Okay so far, sir,” I say anyway.

“You lost your last game,” one of his friends chimes in, reminding me of my awful performance where I let in three goals through the first period. We ended up coming back to tie it up but lost in overtime. We still got a point, but it always hurts to leave one on the table.

I hold back my grimace. “You’re right. We did. But we’re still third in our division.”

Yet, even as I say it, I know it’s not good enough because we’re not first. A part of me gets it because I want that number one spot, too, and nobody beats me up over that fact more than I do. But we’re in a good position right now. We’re a playoff team, and we’re enough points ahead of the other teams in our division that it’s not something we need to worry about right now. I need to keep reminding myself of that.

“Fox, I’m thirsty. What do you say we go grab a drink?” Lilah pushes her way between me and her mother.

Selene huffs. “Really, Lilah? Is it always about drinking with you?”

“Well, when it comes to?—”

“Yes.” I interrupt because I have the distinct feeling what she was about to say would cause quite a stir. “I could use a water myself. Excuse us.”

I pull Lilah away before anyone else can say anything, the girl on my arm clenching her teeth together included. She seethes the entire way to the bar, where she promptly orders two shots of vodka.

The bartender wisely only hesitates for a moment before realizing she’s being serious, then pours the shots. I’m sure nobody else here is doing shots, but I’m also sure nobody else here needs them as badly as Lilah does. She downs them back-to-back, then asks for a glass of champagne, which she drinks half of.

I don’t say a word, silently accepting the champagne the bartender offers me but not taking a sip. I’ve officially sworn off drinking during the season after last weekend. Several minutes pass before I dare to speak, and when I open my mouth to do so, Lilah finally explodes.

“Can you believe them?!”

Based on what she’s told me about her parents, yes, I can. But I don’t dare say that out loud. Lilah needs this moment, so I let her have it, silently standing by as she rants.

“God, my mother is just… Ugh. And then my father’s friends are so… And then he said… And he just… They are so…”

None of those were complete sentences, but they didn’t need to be. I get it all the same. She wasn’t exaggerating—her parents truly are awful. While I want nothing more than to put these people in their place, the only way we’re going to do that is by having a good time tonight despite how many times they try to knock us down. We can’t let them win.

She takes another drink from her champagne, this time much smaller than before, and then looks up at me. “I’m so sorry, Fox.”

Lilah is the absolute last person I need an apology from.

“What the hell do you have to be sorry about?” I ask.

She points toward where her parents are buried deep within the crowd to which neither of us belongs. It has nothing to do with how we’re dressed. No. It’s everything else about us that doesn’t fit in here. These people aren’t nice. There’s a distinct coldness to the air, a fakeness that permeates the space. But I’m not letting that scare me away.

“It’s fine,” I say, even though we both know it isn’t. “I can handle them.”

“But they were so awful about your game. Which you play very well, by the way.”

“Do you watch?”

“Huh?” she asks over the lip of her glass, which is halfway to her mouth.

“My games. Do you watch them?”

She shrugs, sipping her drink, then tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, I watch Hutch play with Auden, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But do you watch me?”

Why the distinction is important, I’m not sure, but it is. I want to hear that Lilah watches me.

She swallows. “Yes, Fox, I watch you.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “And stop apologizing for these assholes. It’s not your fault they’re like that.”

“No, but it’s my fault you’re here. You’re doing me a favor. That favor didn’t include being treated like shit.”

“You warned me, Lilah. Several times in different ways. I knew what I was walking into.” I didn’t think it would be this bad, but still. “So, stop. It’s fine. It’s just one night, right?”

She nods. “Right.”

“Then we got this.”

She blows out a breath. “Okay. I just…” Another exhale. “Thank you, Fox.”

“Of course,” I say, meaning it. Of course I’d help her like this. I like Lilah. I wouldn’t leave her to deal with these people on her own. “Now, I’m going to use the restroom, and then we’re going to dance, drink some more, and have the absolute time of our lives. Deal?”

She offers me a small smile. “You had me at drinking.”

I laugh, shaking my head at her before pushing off the bar and through the crowd, searching for the restroom. A few people stop me on my way, asking me who I am and who I’m here with. Some even recognize and congratulate me on getting a point in the last game, which definitely feels like a backhanded compliment.

I’m almost out of the crowd when a deep voice that sounds familiar has me stopping in my tracks.

“We aren’t letting that continue, right?” Deacon asks, every word dripping with disgust.

I step a little closer, staying just out of their periphery as I do something my mother warned me against so many times over the years—I eavesdrop.

“Of course we aren’t, my love,” Selene says. “This hockey player is just a phase.” They have no clue I’m even standing here, no idea I can hear them clearly. “She’s upset with me because I set her up with Doug Peterson.”

Deacon groans. “Of course she is. Doug is a loser.”

“He’s CEO of Peterson Projects!”

“Only in name. His father is still the one pulling the strings because Doug can’t close a deal to save his life.”

“Fine. Then you be the one to find someone who wants to date that train wreck ,” her mother hisses.

Train wreck? Is that what they think of their daughter?

“I will, and I’ll damn sure do better than Doug Peterson or some hockey player in third place. Can’t even find someone who isn’t a loser on the ice.” He huffs. “I’ll find someone good enough for her, someone who would benefit this family, too, whose name will make a good addition. I’ll get her back on track. Don’t worry, love.”

I’m not mad they’re insulting me. Not at all.

No. I’m mad that even though Lilah has told them over and over to butt out of her love life, even though she’s showing them she’s in a relationship—albeit a fake one—they are still trying to interfere. Fuck them, and fuck that.

I turn on my heel, returning to where I left Lilah at the bar.

“That was fast,” she says when I reappear. “Or did you need help finding it? Or help in general? While I like you, I don’t know if our relationship is that deep. I?—”

“Do you trust me?”

She blinks at my interruption. “I…” Her brows draw tightly together. “Yes, I trust you, Fox. What’s going on?”

“Come with me.”

I grab her elbow, tugging her back through the crowd to where I last saw her parents scheming, but they aren’t there.

“Where are you taking me?” she asks as I redirect us, keeping my eyes peeled for her parents.

“Where did your mom and dad go?”

“What? I don’t know. I wasn’t keeping track of them. I was working very hard to pretend they weren’t even here, which I suppose is a little ridiculous since this is their party, but can I really be blamed?”

“This way,” I tell her, dragging her to the right.

There, through the crowd of pretentious assholes, are her parents. All their friends have gathered around them—good; I’m glad they’ll be here to witness it. Then they won’t be able to deny it later.

I stop when I’m at the edge of the little circle they’ve formed and clear my throat. All eyes snap my way.

“Oh, Arthur! There you are. We were just talking about you.”

I’m sure you fucking were.

“Lilah and I have an announcement to make.”

“We do?” the woman at my side asks, her eyes wide as she stares up at me. “Fox, what are you…”

I wrap my arm around her, grinning down at her. “Now, sugar, don’t be shy. I know we talked about waiting, but I couldn’t any longer.”

“Couldn’t wait…” she mumbles, her eyes falling to slits.

Trust me , mine say back to her.

She briefly worries her bottom lip between her teeth before giving me the subtlest nod.

“Nope.” I turn to her parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Maddison, I know this might come as a surprise. It might be a little sudden, but I love your daughter. I love how smart she is, her work ethic, and how strong she is. My mama always told me if I love something so much I can’t live without it, I should make sure I never let it go. So, that’s what I’m going to do. I’ve asked Lilah for her hand in marriage, and she’s accepted.”

Her mother’s knuckles turn white against her wineglass. She grips it so tightly I fear it’s seconds away from breaking.

“Lilah…” she says tightly. “Is this…is this true?”

I squeeze Lilah’s hip, hoping she understands what I’m doing.

“It’s true, Mother,” she says, laying her hand on my chest. “It happened on New Year’s Eve, under the stars. Isn’t that so romantic?”

“That is…” Selene glances around at the people looking at her expectantly. When she realizes she’s being watched so closely, she breaks into a smile that almost looks genuine. “That is so romantic. I’m so happy for you two!”

Then she’s throwing her arms around my neck and tugging me down, and I let her because we’re winning. Lilah and I are triumphing in this battle of wills right now, and I love watching Selene and Deacon’s plans crumble right before their eyes.

She moves on to her daughter, hugging her tightly, and then Deacon steps up. He clasps his hand in mine.

Weak shake.

“I’d have liked to know about this beforehand,” he says quietly.

Weak shake.

“I understand, sir, and I’m sorry about that, but I’m not sorry for loving your daughter.”

Even he can’t help but smile at that.

They step back, and Deacon throws his hands up in the air.

“I just got the best birthday present ever—my little girl is getting married!” he yells.

“Finally!” Selene tacks on, unable to stop herself from throwing one last dig at her daughter.

“Kiss her!” someone hollers.

“Yeah, give her a kiss!” another stranger adds.

It’s so weird that these people I just met are so invested, but I get the feeling they aren’t going to let up anytime soon, especially when I see the look on her parents’ faces, each waiting for the same thing as if they refuse to believe it until they see it.

Shit. I have to kiss her. I don’t have a choice.

I turn to Lilah to ask her if it’s okay, but it’s pointless. It’s pointless because the second I turn to her, she winds her hand into my hair, pulls me down, and presses her lips against mine.

I’m kissing Lilah.

Or Lilah is kissing me.

I don’t know, and I don’t care. All I know is she tastes like vodka and champagne and far, far, far too fucking good for it to be legal. Her lips are soft and sweet, working slowly against mine as her fingertips scrape against my head. I’m not sure which one feels better or if it’s just the combination of the two. Either way, I don’t want it to stop, especially with how good her body feels pressed so close.

But sadly, just as quickly as it begins, it’s over. She releases me, pulling away with a saccharine grin aimed at her parents, the kind of expression that says, There. Are you happy now?

Right. This is fake. This is one hundred percent all for show.

I clear my throat, ignoring my shaking hand as I drag it through my hair to straighten it. I don’t know what the hell that was, but I do know that even though I shouldn’t, I want to do it again.

I look over at Lilah, who is talking with one of her parents’ friends, and she appears completely unfazed by our little show. Did she not just feel what I felt? Did the earth not tilt just a little? Was she not affected by that kiss at all?

I don’t have time to worry about it. I’m too busy being peppered with question after question and congratulations after congratulations. It’s a shitshow, and we’re asked when we’re getting married about eight different times before Lilah announces she’d like to talk to her fiancé in private.

I don’t miss how pointedly she says it as she drags me through the party. She doesn’t stop until we’re both tucked into a small bathroom—which I definitely wouldn’t have found on my own—the door shut behind us.

One. Two. Three.

That’s how many seconds it takes before she whirls on me and all hell breaks loose.

“What the hell was that?!”

Given she just kissed the daylights out of me and then acted like it didn’t happen, I could ask her the same thing, but I guess telling her parents we’re engaged is the more pressing issue right now.

“Okay, look,” I start, holding my palms up, “I know that was a little out of left field, but?—”

“A little?!” She throws her hands into the air. “That was more than a little. That was completely…completely… What the hell? ” she repeats.

“I had a good reason.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Oh, it had better be really good. In case you just blacked out back there, you told my parents we were engaged. Engaged , Fox.”

“I know, and that was intentional, but in my defense, I did tell you I couldn’t be held responsible for what comes out of my mouth if I heard them tearing you down, and I did. I was on my way to the bathroom, and I overheard your parents discussing us. Discussing you , really. They…” I grit my teeth, trying to keep my cool just thinking of those awful people. “They aren’t just upset that you’re dating a hockey player, okay? They’re pissed you’re not following their orders. They want you to date someone with more…status. Someone who will help pad their pockets in the end. They want to break us up as soon as possible to get you ‘back on track,’ whatever that means. So that means this?” I wag my finger between us. “This ruse isn’t working. It’s not enough that we’re dating. They needed more.”

“Of course they did. They always do.” She shakes her head. “As sweet as that was of you, Fox, it’s also absolutely insane. I can’t ask you to do this.”

“Maybe, but you’re not asking me to do this. I’m volunteering.”

She narrows her eyes. “You know what I mean. This is too much. Pretending to be my boyfriend for an evening is one thing, but pretending to be engaged? That’s a whole different level.”

“Does it mean your family is off your back and you’re safe from them?”

“Well, yes, but?—”

“Then it’s not too much.” I shrug.

She twists her lips, nodding. “Fine. Say it’s not too much. Then what? How far are we supposed to take this? A month?” She lifts a pointed brow. “Two months? Six? Are we supposed to actually get married? This is too much of a slippery slope. I’m not letting you do this. I’m telling them the truth.”

She turns, ready to march out there and confess, but I grab her arm before she can get far.

“Lilah, wait.”

She looks down at where my hand is curled around her arm, and I release her, showing her my palms.

“Just wait a second, okay?” I drag a hand through my hair, stalling because I don’t know what to say.

She’s right. Being her stand-in boyfriend is one thing. Marriage is another. But I just fucking loathe the idea of her parents trying to marry her off, pressuring her to find someone, forcing her into these dates. Sure, she could say no, but they’re her parents. She won’t.

“Look, I don’t have all the answers right now, all right? But I do know this is saving you from a lot of torment in the meantime, and, to me, that’s worth it. We can figure everything else out later. I mean, the worst that happens is we spend time together and keep you from being married off to some creep.”

“No, the worst that happens is this gets taken entirely too far, and we end up married.”

I wince at the harshness in her words. “Is the idea of marrying me really that awful?”

“No. Getting married in general is really that awful.”

Right. I almost forgot Lilah would make a perfect addition to the Serpents Singles Club.

“Then I’ll let you dump me horribly and publicly before it comes to that. Deal?”

“That doesn’t sound terrible.” Her lips—the ones I now know taste so good—twitch with a grin. “Getting my parents off my back doesn’t sound bad, either. They’ve been extra awful lately and I have enough on my plate, trying to figure out what I want to do with my life.”

It delights me that she’s coming around, and I’m not sure what to make of that. Maybe it’s because this would keep me from feeling lonely. Or maybe it’s because I hope it’ll distract me just enough that I loosen up on the ice and stop pucks a little better. Or possibly it’s because of our kiss.

I don’t know. All I know is I want to do this for Lilah. Sure, it’s stupid and risky, but so what? We’ll have some fun, screw with her parents a bit. It’s not hurting anyone, so why not?

“Fine,” she says after several quiet moments. “Fine. Let’s do this, then.”

“All right. Just no falling in love with me, yeah?”

She rolls her eyes. “Not happening.”

“We’ll see about that, fiancée .”

I wink at her, and she blushes. It’s my first sign we might have bitten off more than we can chew.