Page 7

Seven

Emily

I’m bundled in the back of a sleek, black car, nerves and excitement swirling through me as the city passes by in a blur of lights. Wolf left for his game a while ago, needing to get to the arena early for a team meeting. But before he went, he arranged for a car to take me to the arena for the game. He said he wanted to make sure I got there safely and wasn’t taking public transportation after dark. Honestly, I’m pretty sure Toronto is fairly safe, but I like his protectiveness. I like saying yes to things that make him happy.

And now I’m almost at the game where I’ll be pretending to be his girlfriend. The game where I’ll be sitting with the captain’s and coach’s fiancées.

A pang of something I can’t quite name hits me right in the stomach. It’s not regret, not exactly. It’s more like…longing. Like a wishfulness that the whole girlfriend thing wasn’t pretend. That it wasn’t fake in order to spare Wolf the indignity of another charity auction.

I’m lost in my thoughts when the car pulls up in front of the bustling arena. Bright lights point up into the sky, and a massive screen plays clips of various Toronto Thunder players kicking ass. Butterflies explode in my stomach when I see Wolf on the screen as he slams another player into the boards.

I thank the driver and step out into the chilly night, the air soothing against my hot cheeks. Gah, if I’m this warm just from watching a little clip of Wolf, I’m going to be a tomato after watching him play an entire game. I need to get it together.

I take a breath, centering myself the way I do before I step on stage. Anchoring myself in the here and now and not letting my swirling thoughts sweep me away.

People stream into the arena through the open doors, glowing with bright lights inside, and groups mill about, many of them wearing Toronto Thunder gear: jerseys, hats, jackets. A group of women walk by, talking and laughing, and every single one of them is wearing a Wolf Hartley jersey, his name and the number twenty-eight plastered across each of their backs.

A completely irrational flare of jealousy surges through me, churning my stomach and making my chest burn.

Of course they wear his jersey. He’s hot as hell. All those crazy muscles, and that thick hair, and those piercing gray eyes. Of course they probably all have crushes on him. God knows I do. A wildly inappropriate one given that he’s Mike’s friend and so much older than me. He’d probably be beyond uncomfortable if he knew the thoughts swirling through my mind. If he knew that I’d made myself come in his shower imagining he was in there with me, touching me, washing me, massaging me.

I look away from the women, swallowing down my completely unjustified jealousy. Wolf isn’t interested in me that way. In fact, he’s barely spoken to or looked at me since we got home yesterday afternoon. He’s probably already sick of me. I’d be a fool to misinterpret any kindness he shows as anything other than basic decency.

Energy seems to hum through the air, and I suck in a breath, the chill working its way into my lungs and calming my breathing. I’ve never been to a professional hockey game before, and the sheer scale of everything makes me shiver with anticipation. The lights, the size of the arena, the thousands of people streaming inside. It’s a spectacle.

The crowd surges around me, swallowing me up in a sea of Toronto Thunder logos. I quickly pull my phone out of my small bag and open up my Wallet app to retrieve the ticket Wolf sent me this morning. My heart feels like it’s pounding in time with the throb of music coming from inside the arena, and I realize that my palms are sweaty.

For the first time, I start to have second thoughts about this whole pretending to be Wolf’s girlfriend thing. What if I can’t pull it off? What if I embarrass him?

I move forward with the crowd, trying to shake off the nerves, reminding myself that it’s just for a couple of hours, and we’ll mostly be watching the game. The thought of getting to watch Wolf play sends another wave of excitement crashing over me. My stomach might as well be a flower garden for the number of butterflies flapping there.

I step inside, the noise and the lights enveloping me in something new and exciting. The air smells like popcorn and beer, and to my right, and man stands at a raised podium, selling game day programs. I can see a massive store to my right, filled with fans checking out merchandise. There’s a row of Hartley jerseys on display, and I wish I had the money to buy one.

I glance down at my cropped black sweater, jeans, and black ankle boots, hoping it’s the sort of thing a player’s girlfriend would wear. My hair is down, my makeup minimal. Maybe I should’ve worn more.

The attendant scans my ticket, then gives me a special lanyard and tells me how to get to my box. I nod and start making my way through the arena, taking in the crowd, the vendors, the smells and sounds of it all. Through a gap in heavy black curtains, I catch a flash of white, and I realize that the ice is right there. Fans are crowded around the boards, watching the players take their pre-game warm-up. I flash the badge at the end of my lanyard to the usher standing by the curtains, and he nods, letting me pass and make my way towards the ice.

I manage to find a spot, squeezing between a couple of people, my nose practically pressed to the glass. The ice gleams under the bright overhead lights, and I have to blink several times to get my eyes to adjust. And as soon as they do, I spot Wolf, who looks even bigger with all of his equipment on.

He’s so tall. So strong and thick. I’ve spent so much time drooling over those thighs that I think I’d recognize them anywhere, even covered in hockey gear. I watch as he skates across the ice effortlessly, his stick in his hands. He takes a smooth pass from another player and flicks it easily at the net, then loops around behind it.

Hockey may not have the elegance of ballet, but I can’t deny that there’s a captivating gracefulness in the way Wolf moves. In the control he has over his movements. Everything is smooth and precise.

As he skates back down the ice, he catches sight of me, and my heart jolts into my throat when his eyes lock with mine through the glass. He skates right over to me, a slow smile spreading across his face as I stand there and melt, my face hot. Everyone around me turns and stares as Wolf raises one gloved hand.

“Hey, Em,” he calls through the glass, and I blush from the roots of my hair all the way to my collarbone. More people gawk at us.

“Hey,” I force myself to say, raising my hand. I mean, that’s what a girlfriend would do, right? For a moment, he just stares at me, his smile firmly in place. Then he winks at me and skates away.

Oh, he’s good. That was very convincing.

I watch Wolf warm up for a few more minutes, doing my best to ignore the curious stares of everyone around me. Being on stage is one thing. I’ve chosen to be there. I’ve practiced my steps. I know exactly what to do. But being the completely unexpected centre of attention? Yeah, not really my jam. But I can do this. For Wolf. I can pretend to be whatever he needs me to be.

Even if it kills me a little that it’s just pretend, and that’s all it’ll ever be.

The crowd clustered around the glass starts to thin as the players leave the ice, the pre-game warm-up complete. Still feeling the weight of eyes on me, I turn and start making my way to the box, walking up an aisle and then to a specially marked elevator. An attendant checks my pass and then waves me through, pressing the button for me before the doors slide closed. My heart is a steady beat in my chest. From seeing Wolf on the ice, from the wink, from the attention, from the nervous anticipation of meeting these women and having to pretend I’m here because I’m Wolf’s girlfriend.

Once I reach the box, another attendant checks my pass and then lets me in. I’m immediately struck with the luxuriousness of the space. Plush leather seats, a fully stocked bar, and a spread of food that makes my mouth water. There’s a veggie platter, shrimp on a bed of ice, an elaborate charcuterie board, and a tray of fresh fruit. Off to the side, I see an enormous tray laden with pastries, cookies, and cupcakes. Behind the bar, a glass-doored fridge shows off what looks like endless rows of canned beverages.

I glance up to see two young women seated near the glass. They’re both staring at me with open interest.

I swallow thickly. Showtime.

“Hi,” I say, forcing an ease into my voice that I don’t feel. “I’m Emily.”

A petite woman who’s almost as small as me jumps up and extends her hand. She’s ridiculously pretty, with long, shiny blond hair and bright green eyes. “Hi. I’m Lilah. Lilah Ferguson.” Her smile is warm, her body language relaxed, and I take my shoulders down a notch. I’m surprised that she’s not that much older than me, probably only a couple of years. “You must be Wolf’s girlfriend.”

I blush furiously at the word girlfriend , but shake Lilah’s hand. “I am. It’s nice to meet you. You’re Coach Ferguson’s daughter right?”

Lilah nods. “I am. And I’m engaged to Kincaid Campbell.” I glance down at her hand, sucking in a breath at the enormous diamond ring on her tiny finger.

Holy moly, that is one huge diamond.

The second woman stands, her striking gray eyes assessing me, but not in an unfriendly way. She’s absolutely gorgeous, with dark curls and curves that make me feel completely inadequate in the boob and butt department. “I’m Sadie Brennan,” she says, her voice friendly and confident. “I’d say we’ve heard a lot about you, but that wouldn’t exactly be true.”

Lilah shoots Sadie a look and elbows her. “Sadie!” She turns back to me. “All she means is that we were surprised to hear that Wolf has a girlfriend, given that he’s…well…”

Sadie shrugs, and then adds with a little laugh. “He’s Wolf. Grumpy, keeps to himself, likes his alone time.”

I have absolutely no freaking clue what to say to that, so I do a lame little hand gesture, waving at myself. “Well, here I am.” I have to stop myself from outwardly cringing.

There’s an awkward pause before Lilah says, “Sadie’s engaged as well,” and I replay what Wolf had told me, that I’ll be sitting with the coach’s daughter and his fiancée.

Whoa. Sadie looks to be about the same age as Lilah, which means there’s likely a big age gap between her and the coach.

Something about that makes butterflies take flight in my stomach and hope unfurl in my chest, like a flower looking for the sun. Like maybe, just maybe, me wanting Wolf isn’t the craziest thing in the universe. Granted, he’d have to actually want me back, which is unlikely.

“Right, to Coach Ferguson,” I say after a beat, acting like I’m super in the know. It clicks in my brain that Sadie is engaged to Lilah’s dad. I wonder if that caused any awkwardness between them, but I don’t ask. Obviously.

Sadie grins and nods, and then gestures towards the seats facing the glass. “Come. Sit. Tell us everything .”

I sit down next to Lilah, my stomach a mess of butterflies and knots. Lilah smiles at me, and I relax a little more. Really, I just need to be myself while getting to indulge in the fantasy that Wolf is actually mine. That I’m actually his.

“So, how did you and Wolf meet?” asks Lilah, her eyes sparkling with warmth and curiosity.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, my cheeks going warm. “Well, um. He’s actually friends with my older brother. So, you know.” I smile and hope they don’t ask for more details, because I don’t have any.

Oh, god. I am so bad at this.

Sadie nods, her gaze a tad more assessing than Lilah’s. “How long have you been dating?”

“Oh, um. Not long. It’s very…recent.”

And the Oscar goes to…definitely not me.

As if she can sense my discomfort—and let’s be honest, I’m probably not hiding it well—Sadie veers the conversation away from Wolf for the time being.

“What do you do, Emily? Are you in school? How old are you?”

“Oh my gosh, Sadie,” says Lilah with a little laugh. “Let the girl breathe.”

I laugh, too. “It’s okay. I’m nineteen, and I’m not in school right now. I’m a ballet dancer. I’m from Winnipeg, but I’m here in Toronto for an internship at the National Ballet School.”

Lilah’s eyes go wide. “Like, the National Ballet School?”

A surge of pride rushes through me. “Yeah.”

“That’s amazing! You must be, like, really good.”

I laugh and blush slightly. “I’m okay. Trying to get better. It’s my dream to dance for a living.”

Lilah and Sadie exchange a look, communicating wordlessly, but I can tell they like me, and it puts me at ease. They’re both sweet and friendly, if a little curious. Then again, I can’t really blame them for their curiosity. It probably feels like I appeared out of thin air.

We all help ourselves to something to eat and drink and then return our attention back to the ice, where lights are starting to flash and music is playing. The game hasn’t started yet, but it will soon.

I can’t wait to watch Wolf play. Just seeing him out there on the ice warming up was hot. What will it be like watching him take a real shot or deliver an actual hit? My stomach dips and swirls in anticipation, and I once again find myself wishing I’d thought to get a Hartley jersey before the game.

“You know, most hockey players are a little superstitious,” says Lilah, sitting back in her seat and munching on some popcorn. “But from what I’ve heard, I think Wolf takes the cake.”

“Oh really?” I ask, my eyebrows inching up my forehead. “What do you mean?”

“According to Kincaid, Wolf eats an orange before every game because he ate an orange before he scored his first professional goal, so he thinks it’s good luck. He puts all of his equipment on in the same order, without fail. He listens to the same songs while doing his stretches.”

A smile tugs at my lips. It’s fascinating, trying to reconcile the massive, slightly gruff man I’m falling for with someone who indulges in silly superstitions. I want to know more. I want to know everything. I want to know precisely in what order he puts his equipment on. I want to know what songs he listens to and why.

Oh, crap. I’m falling for Wolf, aren’t I? At least, I think I am. Not that I have any experience with this kind of thing, but…oh, crap. This isn’t just a crush anymore. Somewhere along the way, it morphed into something more.

My stomach drops down to the floor, like I’m on some kind of roller coaster.

“I wonder if he’ll punch anyone tonight,” Sadie says idly. “Shane—the coach—says Wolf’s been all worked up the past couple of days. Maybe he needs to let off some steam.”

There must be something very wrong with me, because the idea of Wolf fighting has my blood heating and a tingle starting between my thighs.

Lilah grins. “It’s true. It’s been a while since he got into a real fight. I think the last time was when that jerk from the other team high sticked Kincaid and Wolf just laid him out.”

“No one messes with him,” agrees Sadie. “He’s a great guy to have on your side. As I’m sure you know.”

My mind jumps back to the way Wolf scared off James like it was nothing. The way he’d tucked me against him, making me feel safe and sheltered.

I want more of that, too.

The lights go dim and the players skate out onto the ice to blaring rock music, the fans in the arena exploding with excitement. For several moments, we don’t talk, just soaking up the adrenaline-fueled atmosphere. My gaze lands on Wolf the second he steps on the ice, and it stays there. I watch as he skates around to warm up. I watch as he stands for the national anthem. I watch as he takes his spot on the blue line to start the game.

It’s truly a feat of athleticism that someone his size can move as quickly and fluidly as he does. It’s astonishing. I can’t get enough of watching him.

There’s a lull in the game, and I turn back to Lilah and Sadie, who seem to be enjoying the game as much as I am. “So, how did you two end up with…” I trail off, not sure how to phrase my question. “It’s just that you’re both young and Kincaid and Shane are…” I trail off again, my cheeks going hot.

Lilah laughs easily. “Older?”

I nod, my face heating even more.

“Well, for me, it just kind of happened. Kincaid and I met at a party, and there was this instant connection. Age didn’t matter. We just knew we wanted to be together, no matter what.”

Sadie nods. “I’d had a crush on Shane for, like, ages, so once we got on the same page, everything just clicked. I just love how mature and confident he is. He makes me feel so safe and cared for. He might be twenty-four years older than me, but I wouldn’t change it for anything. I like it.” Sadie winks at me. “Older men are the shit.”

“How much older than you is Wolf?” asks Lilah. I don’t even know why I brought this up. It’s not like Wolf is actually my boyfriend. It’s not like the dynamics of an age gap relationship actually matter to me.

But you want them to , says a quiet voice in the back of my mind. And the voice isn’t wrong. I do.

“He’s thirteen years older. I’m nineteen, he’s thirty-two.”

Lilah grins. “Thirteen years isn’t that much. It feels like a lot because you’re young, but if you both want to make it work, it won’t get in your way.”

I smile at her, letting hope filter through me. It’s a foolish, reckless kind of hope, but it’s there all the same.

Our attention drifts back to the game, and I find myself swept up in the action. I’m engrossed watching the players move with speed and agility across the ice. We all stand and cheer when Kincaid scores a goal, and the crowd is positively electric, their energy pulsing through the packed arena like a heartbeat.

And Wolf. God. He’s a force to be reckoned with. He’s powerful and aggressive and easily one of the biggest guys on the ice. His hits are so hard they make me wince on behalf of his victims. But there’s a grace to his movements, too. A fluidity that almost reminds me of dance. He’s not just brute strength; there’s skill and precision in everything he does. Every pass. Every shot. Every slice of his blades across the ice.

Every time he steps onto the ice, my heart starts to race. I can’t take my eyes off of him. The way his body moves, the aura of intensity surrounding him—it’s enthralling. Intoxicating. I’ve never seen anything like it.

I think I’m wetter than I’ve ever been.

“Wow, Wolf is really fired up tonight,” says Lilah, glancing my way.

“Yeah, he’s playing like a man possessed,” Sadie agrees, a smirk playing on her lips. “I wonder what’s gotten into him. A redhead, maybe?”

I blush, looking down at my lap, where my hands are curled together.

Lilah leans towards me, her blond hair falling over her shoulder, her green eyes sparkling. “So, how are things with you and Wolf?”

I frown slightly. “What…what do you mean?”

Sadie giggles. “Wolf’s playing like an absolute maniac tonight. You must be doing something right.”

It takes me longer than it should to clue in to the fact that they’re talking about sex.

My face flames and I twirl a lock of hair around my finger. “Oh, well. Um. You know. I can’t really take credit for that because we haven’t…” My mouth goes dry.

Lilah’s eyebrows shoot up. “You haven’t had sex yet?”

I shake my head. “Um, no. Not yet. We’re…” The words stick in my throat.

“Waiting?” offers Lilah, and I nod. She tilts her head. “Girl, you’ve got more restraint than me. I don’t know how you haven’t jumped him yet.”

“Or climbed him like a freaking tree,” adds Sadie.

I laugh, covering my face with my hands. “I can’t just jump him or climb him or whatever. I’ve never…I’m still…”

Lilah’s eyes widen. “Oh. You’re a virgin?” she asks gently.

I nod, my stomach dipping and swirling. “Yeah. Wolf is the only guy I’ve ever dated, and it’s new between us. But…I do want him,” I say, and it feels like the most honest thing I’ve said all night, even if the stuff about it being new between us is a lie. “Badly.”

Sadie sighs and then fans herself dramatically. “I bet he’s amazing in bed. All that intensity? God. You need to find out and then report back. You know, for science.” She winks at me and I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of me.

Lilah’s laughing too, and when I glance over at her, our eyes meet. “Is Kincaid…?”

Her laugh turns into a giggle, and her cheeks go pink. “He’s an absolute animal, and I mean that in the best way possible.”

I squirm in my seat, my clit pulsing insistently between my legs. I ache in a way I’m not used to. I feel empty in a way I don’t fully understand as I think about what Lilah and Sadie just said. What would Wolf be like in bed? Would he be an animal? What does that even mean? And why do I like the sound of it so much?

Lilah and Sadie exchange a look.

“Whenever it happens, it’s going to be explosive,” says Sadie. “Trust me. That man wants you just as much as you want him, and it’s making him crazy on the ice. Look at him.”

We all turn our attention back to the game to watch as Wolf delivers a bone-crunching hit to a player on the other team, leaving him sprawled out on the ice. The crowd roars with excitement, howls filling the air as Wolf skates back to the bench.

Lilah nods. “Sadie’s right. Believe me, I recognize the signs. Wolf is playing like a man who needs to fuck.”

I suck in a sharp breath, and I can feel how wet my panties are. Snippets of dirty thoughts race through my mind, making my heart pound and my stomach swirl.

Wolf ripping my clothes off.

Wolf pinning me to the wall and fucking me so hard I can’t breathe.

Wolf spending hours making me come, over and over again.

But none of this is real. They’re only fantasies. Lilah and Sadie are only seeing what they think is there because I’ve lied to them.

Fuck my life. What kind of mess have I gotten myself into?