Page 1 of Faking Time (The Steel City #2)

CHAPTER ONE

arden

“Problem here?”

I whirl around to where a big, familiar body steps in behind me. He’s close, far too close to be a stranger. But he’s not a stranger, is he? Not really. Not to anyone in this bar. Not to me.

Unfortunately.

Yeah, I know that face. I’ve had drinks with that face. I’ve humiliated myself in front of that face.

Carter Forkerro’s hand slides to my hip, glancing at the man in front of me, who is still holding his wet sleeve out between us like I’ve committed the ultimate sin and he’s holding the evidence.

The man’s brow furrows for a moment, but then his eyes widen, and I know we have a Pittsburgh hockey fan in our midst.

“ Forkerro ?”

The star defenseman of the Pittsburgh hockey team. One half of the legendary Dangerous Duo. World famous. Locally adored.

Carter hardly reacts. His blue eyes flicker to my face, and since I’m sure it looks like I just sucked on a lemon, it’s pretty apparent this man and I are not getting along.

“I’ll ask again. Is there a problem here?”

The man blinks, realization hitting him. “Shit. No. I didn’t know she was your— fuck . It’s all good.”

Carter’s thumb brushes my hip, a touch I would normally swing on a stranger for if I weren’t so desperate to get out of this situation. There is a look in his eye when his fingers give my skin a gentle squeeze—a request for me to trust him.

His brows raise, gaze flickering to the man for a millisecond. “I was asking her.”

“This gentleman is just angry that I bumped into him while I was on my phone,” I explain, forcing a tight smile. Why not? I like seeing this little worm sweat. “I apologized. Twice. I even offered to buy him another drink. He’s still mad about his suit.”

Carter presses his lips together, nodding.

He straightens, and I don’t think me or my new friend misses the way he examines that precious suit from head to toe.

It’s a couple hundred dollars, max. And yes, I understand the value of money.

I have none of it. But it was vodka water that spilled—colourless.

There will be no damage done apart from some weird sting to his pride.

Tonight is one of the very rare nights I’m not nursing a glass of red wine, so he should consider himself lucky.

“Would you like me to…buy you another suit?” Carter asks, the judgement in his tone clear.

My eyes quickly avert back to the stranger whose neck flushes pink with embarrassment.

“Uh…no?”

Carter’s eyes dart to my drink.

“What’d you spill, sweetheart?” he asks. I nearly choke at the pet name. Ew . “Merlot? Shiraz? ”

I feel the grin tugging on my lips as I angle my head. “A vodka water.”

Carter’s brows skyrocket as he whirls toward the man, who is sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re crying about vodka water ?”

“I just?—”

“You just what ?” he asks. Carter is looking at this man like he’s a pathetic child and I just know it’s killing the little fanboy inside him.

“Is this your attempt at flirting with a woman who is ridiculously out of your league? Crying about a bit of water? Making a lady feel bad for walking in your sacred space? You should have moved for her. ”

The man’s shoulders deflate. His head lowers, embarrassed and angry with himself. If Carter wasn’t Carter, I’m sure this would be an entirely different conversation. But he is Carter, and this man clearly idolizes him. That cosmic justice is just too satisfying to ignore.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, peering up at the big, hulking hockey player at my back.

Carter stares at him, chewing that minty gum I can smell from here, arm still wound around my waist. He blinks slowly, his brow furrowing with every passing second. Whatever he’s considering, it doesn’t seem like it will be pleasant for his number one fan.

I’m fairly certain all this guy wants to do is to run away with his tail between his legs and ice his bruised ego, but Carter’s stare is pinning him to the spot.

As for Carter? I truly don’t know what his angle is.

“Don’t look at me and apologize. I don’t deserve it. I believe you owe that apology to Red, here.”

My body physically recoils. I whirl around. “ Don’t .”

Carter’s grin is blinding, his eyes sparkling as he drinks in my expression. “Have a few bad memories with that nickname, Red? ”

Yes, I do. I’m pretty sure every little girl with red hair who had to endure the public school systems in America has bad memories with that name.

I’m not getting into it with a world-famous NHL player who is known for charming the panties off every pretty girl that enters this particular bar. Not today. Not ever.

“Come on?—”

I go to leave, to flee from this situation.

Carter’s eyes don’t move from mine, but his hand shoots out so quickly that I jump back a step. I hadn’t even clocked the guy trying to sneak away behind me, but Carter had. He buries his fist in the man’s suit jacket, stopping him mid-stride. The sparkle is gone from his eyes in an instant.

Just like that, Carter Forkerro looks utterly lethal.

He stops chewing his gum, his jaw ticking and that cold glare piercing. “Did you not hear me the first time?”

I almost feel bad. Almost. The guy looks like he’s about to piss his pants. That would really ruin the quality of his favourite, sacred suit. He gulps, quickly glancing at me like I’m supposed to save him after enduring his dehumanizing little rant for five minutes.

With trembling palms, he lifts his hands to his chest, eyes locked on me.

“I’m sorry, okay? It’s fine. It wasn’t a big deal.”

I can’t help the smile from pulling at my lips at the shakiness of his voice. “That sounded like it was from the heart and totally not forced. Appreciate it.”

It sounds like he’s being held at gunpoint.

The man slowly averts his gaze back to Carter.

Carter’s glare hasn’t softened. He hasn’t lightened his grip on the man’s irreplaceable suit, either.

His eyes burn holes into his face instead, a now former fan of his.

He says nothing. Does nothing. The three of us just stand there, frozen.

As the seconds pass, Carter actually looks like he’s debating taking a swing.

He is not hitting someone on my behalf. I am not becoming the reason Pittsburgh loses their best goon for a few weeks, a few months, or forever. Fat chance.

Fuck it. Time to intervene like an idiot and hope I don’t regret it.

I slide between them, wrapping my fingers around Carter’s forearm.

I force myself into his line of vision, dragging my hand up the fabric of his dress shirt.

He slowly comes back into his own body at my touch.

He blinks, averting his eyes back to me, and I’m finally able to wedge myself in front of that hand.

“It’s over, sweetheart . He apologized.”

Carter shoots me a curious look, and after a brief pause, he begins to chew his gum again. His eyebrow cocks at the corny nickname I just served right back to him.

The poor guy behind me is still too scared to move.

I press forward, taking a stupid risk. I reach up to cup Carter’s face, pushing my chest flush against his. It works. His lips pull up into an amused grin. That twinkle is back in his eye, yet the poor idiot behind me is still frozen to the spot.

Run, you dumbass.

“You’re a bit unhinged, aren’t you?” I whisper, angling my head.

Carter’s hand slides over my waist to the swell of my ass. “You have no idea, Red. You’re lucky this little act of yours distracted me. I was debating which of his eyes to take out with your straw.”

I can’t help it, I laugh. His eyes avert to my lips, his smile growing by the second. I will admit, albeit disappointedly, that my pulse skyrockets into the heavens at the sight of it.

I have to abort this mission. I’m wading in very dangerous waters right now.

I move to step away, to put some much-needed distance between me and those hands.

“You scare that easily?” he asks, still grinning.

“I don’t know you,” I remind him quietly enough so that only he can hear.

His smile widens, and I realize just how thin the line is between fawning over Carter Forkerro and fearing him. There’s something so uncharacteristically charming about him, but danger brews beneath the surface. It’s like I can see the switch behind those eyes, and how easy it is for it to flip.

“You climbed into Lowesy’s bed in even less time.”

He says it kindly, like an easy joke, but it feels like he just smacked me right in the face.

That was a jab, and it was intentional as much as it was mean.

I take another step back, this one bigger.

My immediate distaste must be written all over my face because Carter winces at himself, but I’ve already heard the comment, and I'll be damned if I let any man speak to me like that. I don’t care who he is.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Red—”

There’s that damn name again. I truly think I’d prefer ‘sweetheart’.

I’m about to storm away and leave this bar, Carter Forkerro, and his nasty tongue behind, but then two things happen at once.

The man behind me finally finds his balls and moves to scurry past us, to get away while Carter is actually distracted, but he does the stupidest thing in the world at the same time .

He smacks my ass with so much force that I stumble forward a bit, stunned, and fall right into Carter’s hands.

Before I can even look up at him, Carter Forkerro is gone.

The Beast is in his place.