Page 18

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

JADEN

I skate around the ice, waving to the crowd of fans as they give us a raucous applause. Winning at home never gets old. No matter what I have going on, this kind of adoration always lifts my spirits.

A group of fans start chanting my name. “Lewis! Lewis! Lewis!”

I stop and face them. Touching my gloved hand to my heart, I hold it out to them and wave with a grateful smile. A woman from this group hurries down the steps toward the ice and tosses a pink poster board to me. It hits the ice, and I skate toward it, giving her a wave of thanks.

When I reach it, I force a smile. In the center of the board, it says “We love #2” in big black letters while the rest of the board is filled with cutouts of Annalise and me from pictures printed in various magazines over the past month. Holding the sign over my head, I face it toward the VIP box where Anna and Miranda sit. With a final wave toward the woman who threw me the sign, I blow a kiss to the VIP box because everyone knows that my supposed love is up there, and that’s what a man in love would do. I’ve gotten very good at playing this game. With a final skate around the ice, I retreat toward the exit, anxious to get away from the stares.

The landscape of the crowd has changed a little over the past month. There are definitely people here that care more about getting a view of Annalise or of the pair of us together than they do about the game. My jersey sales have skyrocketed, and I seem to have more fans than ever. Fans of hockey? Not so sure. Fans of true celebrity love? More likely.

The added attention toward the sport is great. I’d never bash something that creates more love for the game. Despite how they came to be a fan, I’m hoping when the dust settles on this sham, they’ll stay because they’ve grown to love hockey.

After the night that could’ve been the greatest of my life, the date of which we do not speak—things changed. I no longer venture outside of the prescribed agenda. Miranda sets up a public outing, usually dinner, where certain photographers are waiting to capture us together. They get their shots, Anna and I have a nice meal, and I return her to the hotel.

I haven’t brought her back to my house since that night. It’s better this way. I’d never admit it, but she was right to stop things. I barely touched her, and it’s still all I can think about. I couldn’t have stopped my feelings from progressing if I tried. Full-on sex with Anna would’ve been the death of me, I’m certain. To feel all the things I do and have none of it be reciprocated would’ve hurt in a way I can’t even describe.

Do I regret volunteering for this torturous faux-boyfriend experience?

No, how could I?

I’ve gotten to spend so much time with Anna, and I’ve loved every second of it. We’ve built an incredible friendship and get along so well. If I had to choose between having this small piece of her or nothing at all, I’d take the scraps any day, despite how difficult it can be.

A round of hoots and hollers greets me as I enter the locker room.

“J-man, our celebrity!” Beckett cheers. “Let’s see the glamour shots.”

I throw the poster board toward him. He scans the magazine clippings with a handful of guys looking over his shoulders. “Can we have your autograph?” He grins.

“Shut it.” I roll my eyes and pass the group admiring the poster. “Toss it in the trash when you’re done ogling me.”

At this point, the whole team knows what’s going on. They’re all privy to the deal I made with Anna. I’m thankful I can trust them enough to share because I’ve needed to talk about it over the past month. These guys are my family, and they’d never spill the tea and jeopardize the ruse. I thought talking to Beckett, specifically, would be helpful since he had a fake marriage arrangement with his wife for a few months. Though, I quickly realized that talking to Beckett was the last thing that would make me feel better. Unlike my situation with Anna, Beckett and his wife were screwing like bunnies almost from the beginning. They fell in love hard and fast despite claiming it was all pretend.

Did a little part of me think that would happen with Anna and me, too? Sure, and if I’m being honest, not even a little part. A huge part of me thought I could charm her into more from the beginning. But I was ill-prepared for someone as disciplined as Anna. That woman has her feelings locked up tight in an impenetrable vault. Or maybe she’s really just not into me. At this point, I don’t know which is worse, and the fact is, it doesn’t matter. It is what it is—and it sucks.

“Will there be photographers at The Station?” Finn questions.

“Oh, I’m sure,” I deadpan.

Max nudges Finn’s shoulder with his own. “What is it, Johnny Bravo? Looking for a redo? Too late for that!”

The guys laugh, and Logan, known by the nickname Sean, slams his locker shut, showing Finn's enlarged picture taped to the surface. The laughter ensues.

Finn had the unfortunate mishap of walking behind Anna and me as one of the paparazzi snapped our photo. While our picture looked great, Finn—in the background—did not. He was wearing jeans and a black shirt. The wind was blowing his floppy blond hair up into a tall swish. His face was scrunched, making his mouth and nose appear smaller than usual. His outfit, sunglasses, and windblown hair gave him a cartoonish appearance. He looked like the human version of the cartoon character Johnny Bravo—the resemblance was uncanny. I laugh every time I think about it.

Logan took the liberty of cropping the photo, blowing it up, and getting copies made. The day after the picture showed up in a tabloid, we all came into the locker room with a poster-sized picture of our very own Johnny Bravo taped to our locker. It’s one of the best nickname origin stories we have.

“Can you blame me?” Finn grumbles. “I deserve a redo.”

“It doesn’t matter how many photos of you end up in the tabloids. You’ll now and forever be Johnny Bravo to us,” Cade states. “Hell, I’ve been married for over a year, and I’m still Heartbreaker. When you earn a nickname on this team, it sticks.”

“And honestly, it could be worse.” I scoff. Not that I have room to talk, given I have the tamest nickname on the team.

“So what’s the deal tonight?” Miles asks. “Is it going to be different tonight because Annalise is coming?”

“Oh, definitely.” I pull my jersey off. “Lots more security. An approved guest list.”

Logan raises his eyebrows. “Translation: fewer girls.”

“Pretty much.” I close my locker and grab my shower supplies.

“Boo!” Finn groans.

“I don’t want to hear it. I sent a message to the group thread yesterday and told you all to let me know who you wanted on the list.”

“I didn’t think you were serious,” Logan grumbles.

“I didn’t see anything about a list,” Finn protests.

“Did you read the messages?” I ask.

He throws his hands up. “A lot is going on in that thread. This team is so chatty.”

“I hear that,” Gunner huffs.

The conversation continues, but I ignore it, making my way to the showers. I need to clear my head before I leave here. It takes a certain headspace to deal with my new reality. Hanging out with a woman I’m infatuated with, kissing her for the cameras but keeping a distance in real life, isn’t easy. Yet who am I kidding? If I’m going to have a problem—it’s a good one to have.

“This is the place.” My fingers entwined with Anna’s, I lead her into our favorite bar.

She looks around. “It has a cool vibe. I like how they’ve kept a lot of the old firehouse elements.”

I nod. “Yeah, people love the pole. One of the best parts of this place is Betty.”

“Betty?”

“Yeah, the bartender. She makes the best drinks. She’s like a master mixologist.” I smile. “What would you like?”

“A martini is fine. Whatever Betty wants to mix up.” She looks toward the bar. “Is Betty the one with her hands all over Finn?”

I follow Anna’s line of vision and chuckle. Sure enough, Betty is leaning over the bar top and running a finger down Finn’s cheek. He appears frozen in place with a satisfied look on his face. “Oh, good for Johnny Bravo. He’s had a rough day.”

Anna turns to me and quirks a brow. “You think they’re going to hook up?”

“It’s a possibility. Betty has a thing for hockey players.” I pull Anna through the crowd of people. While there are fewer strangers than normal, the place is still quite full.

“As in multiple guys from your team have slept with her?” Anna asks.

Taking the tip of my finger, I gently bop her nose. “Don’t be jealous, babe. I’m here with you.” I plant a kiss on her lips. The familiar tingles vibrate through my body at the contact the way they always do.

Anna pulls back from the kiss. “You’ve slept with her?” Her voice raises an octave, and I could be wrong, but I sense a little jealousy.

I cup her face in my hands. “My sweet girl.” I press my lips against hers again before I slowly kiss down her neck and then back up again. Anna sighs and tilts her head to the side, allowing me access. I nibble on her earlobe before whispering against her ear, “Babe. You know beautiful, blonde, talented movie stars are my thing… especially the ones who will never love me back.” I pepper kisses back down her neck and pull away.

Her eyelids are heavy as her lips part in an exhale. She clears her throat and forces her eyes open wide, pretending that my lips against the soft skin of her neck didn’t affect her. “So you didn’t sleep with her, right?”

“No, of course not,” I lie because sometimes the truth hurts.

Anna and I are very similar in the fact that neither of us has had any serious relationships, but we’re opposites in our views on casual sex. Where I have had a ton of it, it’s not her style.

“Oh, okay.” Her gaze darts toward the ground and back up to meet mine. “Was the neck kissing necessary?”

I hold up a finger. “Number one… you know you liked it. And number two… I had to make sure I wasn’t caught by any lip readers,” I tease. Anna fears we’ll be discovered and called out on social media if someone reads our lips and posts it. I don’t pay too much attention to social media, but apparently, some influencers have built their entire platforms by reading celebrities’ lips and outing conversations. I find it all very amusing.

Anna laughs and hits my chest. “Stop. It’s real, and it happens.”

“I believe you.” I grin before leaning back into her neck. I pepper kisses against her skin. “That’s why all secret conversations will be handled in this manner.”

She giggles and pushes me away. Holding a hand in front of her face like she’s trying to block her mouth as she chews a big heap of food, she instructs, “You can do this instead.”

“I will never do that. It looks ridiculous,” I say, amused.

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Are you getting me a martini or what?”

“Of course.” I reach for her hand. “Come on.”

We make our way to the bar. I introduce her to Betty and order us some drinks.

“So it’s your last night here?” I take a swig of beer. Anna has finished shooting and is heading back to California.

She presses her lips in a line. “Yeah. I’m going to miss Michigan. The autumn really is gorgeous. I’m going to miss your games, too. But at least our last game here was a good one. I don’t know if I can convince Miranda to come back with me. I might’ve lost her to your world.” She chuckles.

“Where is she anyway?”

“You can’t miss her. It looks like your Crane shop threw up on her.”

I scan the room and find Miranda holding a drink in her hand and dancing in a group with some of the guys. She’s wearing Hollywood’s jersey. Her auburn hair is braided in two piggy tails, the ends tied with long navy and white ribbons.

“Looks like she discarded her foam fingers for the bar.”

“I’m surprised. She’s very attached to those things.” Anna chuckles. Her smile fades. “We are going to miss the games. We’ve had a blast.”

“Well, we play out in LA, too. You can catch some of our road games.”

Her eyes light up. “Oh, that will be great.”

I lean in, my mouth a breath away from her ear. “I know this is all for show, but I’m really going to miss you. The past few weeks have been great.”

Anna sets her empty martini glass on the bar and threads her fingers through my hair. I place my palms on the bar on either side of her waist, caging her in. We’re silent for a moment, lost in one another’s stare until she tilts her face up toward mine and our lips meet. The kiss throws me off guard as I’m used to initiating these photo ops, though this moment doesn’t feel staged. I’ve kissed Anna dozens of times before, all amazing, but there’s something so raw about this one. There’s a longing in the way that Anna’s mouth moves against mine, a beautiful melody in the way our tongues dance.

It takes all my willpower to pull away. “Anna, I don’t think anyone is taking pictures here. These are our friends. There’s no press allowed.”

“I know.”

I study her full lips and flushed cheeks, the way her eyes keep falling to my mouth, and her tongue as it pokes out, wetting her lips. I’m normally pretty good at reading women, and I feel as if I know what she’s thinking, but this woman confuses me at every turn.

“Anna?”

She strokes her thumb across my cheek. “Take me to your place.”

“What?” My voice cracks.

She gives me a chaste kiss. “You heard me.”