Page 20 of My Pucking Enemy (The Milwaukee Frost #4)
Wren
When I woke up this morning in Los Angeles, and the world wasn’t eagerly drinking in pictures of Luca McKenzie and I, it made me think that maybe I was mistaken.
Maybe we weren’t being followed by a member of the press.
Maybe that was some weird perv, and I put on a little performance for him with absolutely nothing to show for it.
A few hours later, boarding the plane with Luca, it had taken everything in my power not to stare at him. To think about the feeling of his hands on my hips, the way he’d pressed me into the wall, the way all the air had whooshed from my lungs—not at the impact, but from the sensation.
Luca McKenzie, taking charge. Following directions really, but to a fucking T.
Nobody walking by would have ever assumed that entire thing was just for show. Not with the way he’d flattened into me, the pads of his thumbs digging into my hips, his head dropping hungrily to my neck like we were silent picture stars in a black and white movie.
I finally understand why those women always looked so limp. Because to have someone ravish you like that—it makes your bones turn to jelly.
Leaving L.A., Luca and I sat next to each other on the plane like we’d started to do every time we traveled somewhere. We pulled out our notes and our tablets and we’d talked through the strategy against the Wild.
“They’re going to come out strong, aggressive,” I warned. “Your biggest task is keeping them from scoring early. Once they do that, it’s a whole mental battle—one I’m not entirely confident the Frost is equipped to win.”
Uncle Vic had stopped by our row for a second to hear some of our thoughts, but when he got sleepy, he returned to his seat, and soon his belly rose and fell as he snored.
Then we landed in Minneapolis, and there was still nothing from the night before. Nothing in the press to show me and Luca together.
I started thinking we might have to take matters into our own hands. It wouldn’t be as effective, Luca posting a picture on Insta with my hand on his chest—but it would be better than nothing.
Then I sat through the Wild game, thinking. At first, I was thinking that Luca was going to go through another game with his shit all knocked off balance by his ex-wife. Then, about halfway through the second quarter, it was like he broke through and came to the other side.
And when he scored the final goal, he looked up and found me.
I’d ignored the little flip in my stomach then. Maybe I’d finally become a hockey fan, and someone as famous as Luca McKenzie finding me in the crowd felt like something from a Wattpad story.
Now, I’m making my way out of my seat, down to the area outside the locker rooms, when an older couple intercepts me smiling ear-to-ear.
“Hi,” the woman says, her eyes shining with something warm and affectionate.
“It’s so great to meet you,” the man says, sticking his hand out to me, and it’s so disarming that my very first thought, somehow, is that this is a set-up.
When Dad and I were grifting, we always played personalities like this. Warm, welcoming. Approaching people and pretending to know them, knowing they would feel too bad about the situation to admit that they didn’t remember us.
Of course they didn’t. We’d never met them before in our lives.
Even knowing this would be the perfect cover to get me unbalanced, I reach out and take the man’s hand.
“Hi.” I clear my throat, looking between them. “Sorry, I don’t—”
“Oh, how silly of us,” the woman says, and when I drop the man’s hand, she steps forward, wrapping her arms around me. “I’m Blair McKenzie. And this is my husband, Gerald.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” he says again when his wife releases me and steps back. “Maybe it’s overstepping, but I can tell you this, I’ve never been so happy about a divorce in my life—”
“Mom? Dad?” Sloane appears, breathing a little hard. Her dad reaches out a hand, offering it to her. She holds onto it, leaning into the support and taking a large breath. “What are you doing?”
“Just talking to your brother’s new girlfriend,” her dad says, and my stomach drops.
How had I not thought of this? Sloane turns to me, her eyes wide and confused, then a laugh bubbles out of her.
“Are you kidding?” she asks, eying me, waiting for me to deny it.
Do I deny it? In all our planning, we hadn’t talked about what to do about his family. For some reason, we hadn’t even broached the subject of his family finding out. Do I tell them that this is a fake thing? That we’re just doing it to diffuse some of the attention from the Mandy situation?
But my questions are answered when a steady hand slides around my waist, drawing me in closer. Sloane’s eyes lock onto the movement, then move to me, then to the person beside me.
“Hey, babe,” Luca says, as casually as if that’s something we’d always been doing. “What’s going on?”
“Luca,” his mom says, her face beaming with pride. “That was quite the comeback, we’re so happy we made the drive over for the game—”
“We were introducing ourselves to your new girl,” Gerald says, putting a hand on his wife’s back, as if to remind her of the moment. “It’s good you’re here now, so you can tell us why we found out from Slap Shot, of all places, that our son is seeing someone new—”
“Slap Shot posted about it?” Sloane asks, her eyes going wide, hand sliding into her pocket to find her phone. “What the hell?”
I try to take a step backward, but Luca’s arm is around me, holding me in place. This feels like a family event. But it dawns on me that, in a small way, and in the minds of his family, I am now part of the family.
That fact settles in my stomach like a stone.
“Well, I was hoping we could plan a time for us all to get together for lunch,” Blair says, like her daughter isn’t angrily scrolling beside her.
“Mom, it’s not really that serious yet—” Luca tries, but his mom barrels on like he hasn’t even spoken.
“When are you leaving for the holidays? Maybe we could get together this week?”
I blink at her, then realize she thinks I’ll be flying somewhere to go home for the holidays. I hadn’t given it much thought, other than Uncle Vic asking me to go out for a pint with him on Christmas Eve. He’s got his own family to think about, and I know they have complicated feelings about me.
“Oh.” I shift, finding it hard to concentrate with the feeling of Luca’s arm around my waist. “I’ve just got my grandma here, so I’ll probably visit her. But other than that—”
“Mom,” Luca tries to interject again. “Really, she’s not—”
“Wait.” Gerald’s brow wrinkles, looking like he’s just heard very bad news. “Am I hearing you have no plans for the holidays?”
“Well,” I laugh, “I didn’t say that. I’ve got a bottle of wine with my name on it—”
“Absolutely not,” Blair gasps, her hand flying up to her heart. Luca’s from Colorado, I know that, but these two are the most Midwestern couple I’ve ever met in my life. “You’ll come to our place—we have plenty of room.”
Sloane steps away from the conversation, bringing her phone to her ear, so maybe she doesn’t hear her mom say that. Or maybe she doesn’t mind. Maybe it’s common for their parents to invite near-strangers to their holidays.
“No, that’s okay—” I try again.
“We insist,” Blair says. “The idea of you home all alone will ruin Christmas, and I’m sure Luca will want you there—”
“Mom,” he presses, for the third time, “I’m sure Wren wants the day off. Not everyone wants to spend the day with a huge, crazy family.”
The sound of that makes something pang in my chest. It reminds me of every Christmas I spent on my own in some foreign, fancy hotel room while Dad darted out to meet a woman, or do a job, or just drink in the bar on his own.
Surrounded by luxury, with a fake credit card I could use to get whatever I wanted, and feeling impossibly leaden anyway.
“Do you have any allergies?” Blair asks, pulling out her phone and opening the notes app. “We normally have ham, turkey, fish—oh, are you a vegetarian?”
“No,” I say lamely, mind racing for an excuse not to come to this holiday. “No allergies.”
Maybe it’s the pressure of their kind eyes, or the weight of Luca’s arm around my waist—which feels so, so real. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the fact that deep down… I want to come.
It will mean lying to his family, adding another layer to this thing, playing fake girlfriend for more than just the press. But when I think of a warm living room, matching Christmas sweaters, laughing and playing board games together, I’m almost sick with envy.
It’s something I’ll never have.
So maybe, just this once, I could.
Luca’s arm tightens around me, and when he tips his head down to look at me, I can read the expression plainly on his face. Say no. You don’t have to do this.
“Tell me how to spell your name,” Blair says, looking up with bright eyes. “You’ll be coming with Luca, right?”
I glance between him and his mom, then hear myself say, “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”