Page 16 of On Thin Ice (Calgary Mounties #1)

Chapter Fifteen

JUST THE TWO OF YOU

Adele

After putting the finishing touches on my makeup, I step back and check my reflection in the mirror, running a critical eye over my attempts at a flawless and natural look.

For a fake date, I’m sure I’ve put far too much effort into my appearance.

But I’m going out with a hockey player in a hockey obsessed city, so there is every chance I’m going to end up in photos that are splashed all over social media, and I don’t want to look like a troll.

At least, I’m telling myself that’s the reason I’m putting so much effort into how I look… And not because I want to look good for the hockey god who will be picking me up shortly.

I even used my hair straightener, something I rarely have the energy to do, as it can take almost an hour to straighten my waist length hair.

But with the nervous energy that has been coursing through me for the past twenty-four hours, it was almost therapeutic to run it through each section, and I’m happy with how it’s turned out.

Going with a casual look, I’ve paired my favourite cream sweater with my dark blue jeans and a pair of ankle boots.

Ever since the phone conversation with Lincoln last night, the butterflies in my stomach have refused to remain contained for some unknown reason.

He had sounded so down when he rang, something I’m not used to with him.

But by the end of the conversation, it seemed like he’d perked up, and I’m glad I was able to help him work through the emotions he was feeling and bring him back to his usual self.

As I’m coming out of the bathroom, the intercom buzzes, and I hurry to pick up the receiver.

“Hey, I’m here.” Lincoln’s face appears on the screen, and the butterflies start to form a tornado in my abdomen.

What on earth is wrong with me? It’s Lincoln O’Malley, for god’s sake. I’ve seen this man do all sorts of stupid stuff over the past four years, so why on earth am I suddenly nervous to be around him?

“Hey, come on up, I’m just getting my stuff together.” I hang up and let out a breath, shaking my hands to try and expel the nerves coursing through me. “Get your shit together, woman.”

Heading into the bedroom to grab my handbag, I start searching for my phone. I still haven’t found it by the time Lincoln knocks on the door, and I let him in without looking at him, before returning to my bedroom to continue ransacking the place to try and find it.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, coming to the door to watch me rip back the blankets on the bed and lift pillows above my head.

“I can’t find my phone,” I reply, dropping the pillow before bending to look under the bed.

Nothing there but some dust bunnies and one of Milo’s pucks that he must have squirreled away under there.

“Um, Addie?” Lincoln’s voice drifts down to me while I glare at the empty space.

“Yeah?”

“Did you, by any chance, check your back pockets?” I can hear the humour in his voice while I straighten up and turn to face him.

Reaching back to pat the back pockets on my jeans, I make contact with something hard and phone shaped.

My face heats up, and I smack my forehead. “Well… That’s embarrassing.” I pull the phone out and throw it into my handbag while avoiding looking at Lincoln.

“Addie.” He steps into the room, moving closer to me.

“Linc.” I keep my head down while I check to make sure I have everything I need.

And also keep me from checking him out, because his dark jeans and button up black shirt look way too good. Especially because he’s rolled the sleeves up and has paired the look with a backwards facing Mounties cap.

It honestly should be criminal to look this good when you play a sport where people literally knock your teeth out of your head.

“Look at me,” he says, placing his finger under my chin to lift my face, and I force myself to meet his gaze. “Take a deep breath.”

Inhaling slowly before letting it out again, I keep my eyes on his. We breathe together, in and out, several times, and I have to fight the urge to lean further forward and brush my lips against his.

“Good. Now, no need to be nervous, it’s just me, your friendly neighbourhood pain in the ass.” He gives me one of his charming smiles, and I feel something inside of me melt.

No. Pain in the ass, remember? Stand down, lady parts. You won’t be getting any tonight. Or ever again from this man. So, stop it.

“Are you having an internal monologue moment?” he asks when I don’t respond.

“Potentially. Look, I’m nervous, but it’s just because I remember all the candid photos Kylie keeps getting stuck in, and I hadn’t entirely thought about that part when I agreed to this whole charade.”

He raises an eyebrow, the smile turning to a smirk. “Agreed to, huh? I believe it was your idea in the end, miss Addie.”

I try to glare at him, but it’s almost impossible to be mad at him when he pulls off charming so well.

“Semantics, Linc. Either way, there’s every chance some hockey player obsessed puck bunny is going to post my photo on social media criticizing my appearance and saying I have no business being around you.”

He takes another step forward, reaching forward to rub his hands up and down my arms. “It’ll be okay.

First, we don’t look at the comment section, remember?

We’ve all learned this the hard way. Secondly, who cares what anyone has to say?

In the grand scheme of things, it really doesn’t matter what some faceless social media account has to say about either of us.

We’re just going out to have some fun, throw some axes - preferably not at each other.

” I grin as he gives me a pointed look. “And have a good old-fashioned pub meal at Buck’s.

Where we go all the time and have not had a single photo of us taken, ever. ”

I let my cheeks deflate as I release another long breath, nodding. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“There’s the enthusiasm I was hoping for.” He slides his hand down to take mine and squeezes gently. “Let’s go.”

I allow him to lead me out of the apartment, and we take the elevator back down to the street, where his car is parked right outside the entrance.

“Now, I’m sorry, but I don’t need to reverse out of this car space, so you’re just going to have to find something else I do that turns you on,” he says, giving me a cocky grin as he opens the door for me.

I smack him gently in his rock-hard stomach with the back of my hand before climbing into the passenger seat. “Newsflash, O’Malley, you don’t turn me on.”

“You just keep telling yourself that, Wilson.” He closes the door before jogging around to climb into the driver’s seat, turning the car on and hitting the seat warmer button for my side.

My butt instantly gets warmer, and I smile. “Thanks. What about yours?”

“I run hot, so I never need to use mine.”

On the drive to the axe throwing venue, we chat a little more about last night’s game and my trip away, which all feels very normal.

Like we’ve done this a thousand times before.

By the time we arrive, my nerves have faded away and I’m excited to try my hand at throwing some dangerous objects at a wall.

“What made you think of axe throwing, anyway?” Lincoln asks as we walk inside from the car park.

I shrug. “It just looked fun. I’ve never done it before, and it seemed cooler than bowling or something like that.”

“What have you got against bowling? Rented shoes. The smell of feet. Crappy food.” He opens the door for me, ushering me inside.

“Yes.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes what?”

“Yes, all of that. Plus, I suck at it.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “So, the real reason is, you’re super competitive so don’t want to play a game you know you’ll lose?”

Unable to find a sufficient argument refuting his statement, I stick my tongue out.

He’s right. I am super competitive and hate to lose.

“Does this mean you’re going to be aggressively throwing these axes around? Maybe we should rethink this and head to Buck’s now.” He shoots me a mock scared look before leading the way to the front counter.

I roll my eyes. “You’re just worried I’ll be really good at this and make you look bad.”

“Nope, just want to live, that’s all.” He turns to the woman behind the rustic-looking counter. “Hi, I have a booking under Lincoln.”

She runs her eyes over him for a moment, the look on her face telling me she’s trying to work out why he looks familiar.

And also thinks he’s hot. Which he is, annoyingly.

He’s pulled a black Roots hoodie on now, which I initially (secretly) was disappointed about, as it hid the rolled-up shirt sleeves, but now it just brings more focus to the way his jeans hug his ass perfectly.

Not that I’ve noticed, because I am definitely not checking it out from behind while he leans on the counter.

“Oh yes, here you are. Just the two of you?” The dark-haired woman behind the counter peers past Lincoln to where I’m standing with a hopeful look on her face.

“Yep, just the two of us,” Lincoln confirms, and I don’t miss the slight downturn of her lips before she catches herself and gives him a bright smile.

Yeah, take that axe-throwing lady. He’s here with me and only me.

I really do need to keep reminding myself that this is all for show and he’s not actually mine. But it’s nice to imagine that this isn’t fake, and we really are just a couple having fun on a date night together.

She takes us through all the legal waivers, and Lincoln makes multiple comments about how I really did just bring him here to kill him and make it look like an accident. So much so that I’m beginning to remember just how annoying he can be. But still charming. And hot.

Ugh, stop it, lady parts .

Once she’s certain we are ready - and fluttered her eyelashes at my fake boyfriend far more than is appropriate - the woman takes us out the back where there are several aisles fenced off with targets at the back.

She hands us over to a man who steps us through the correct way to throw the axes that are lined up on a table at the opening of each aisle.

Then it’s just the two of us once again when he heads back to his desk near the back where he can still see everything going on without encroaching on anyone’s space.

“Ladies first,” Lincoln says, waving his hand towards the axes.

I slide my handbag under the table and reach for the closest axe. “Better step back. Don’t want me to do any damage to that pretty face,” I tell him, patting his cheek.

“And all the other parts. I’m not just a pretty face, Addie. These abs and guns of steel need protecting, too.”

With a snort, I turn to face the target at the other end of the aisle. Lifting the axe overhead with both hands, I launch it towards the target and let out a little squeal when it lodges into the thick material.

“I did it!” I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet with a massive grin on my face.

“You did. My turn,” he says, sliding me to the side so that he can take my spot in the cage. “Best stand aside, little lady.”

He ignores my indignant sigh, using his right hand to let the axe fly towards the target. It spins in the air before lodging into the wall just above the target.

“Ha! Looks like I’m better than you,” I say, clapping my hands together.

“That was just a practice run.”

I smirk. “Yeah, sure. Just can’t admit that a little girl is better at this than you. ”

“Oh, it’s on, Wilson. Care to make a little wager on who’s going to win?”

Grinning as I shake his hand, I’m unable to hide my excitement at the prospect of showing him up. “Deal. What’s the wager?”

“Loser has to sing karaoke at Buck’s later. Winner gets to pick the song.”

I am an absolutely terrible singer and actively avoid karaoke usually, but the competitive part of my nature is unable to turn down the idea of proving I can beat him at this.

I stick my hand out. “You’re on, O’Malley.”

He shakes it, gripping my hand tight. “You’re going to regret this.”

“Not as much as you are.”