Page 7

Chapter 7

Jaydon

Braydon

I felt like shit, thanks to last night’s overindulgence. Now I had to pass a test on my new fake girlfriend. Was I making a mistake going along with this fake dating? They did that in movies, and maybe celebrity relationships, but I was a hockey player. Was this something I could even pull off? But no one had given me a choice.

I’d fought hard to get to the NHL. I’d almost thrown away that hard work last night, so I had to give this a shot.

My phone was nearing critical battery again, so Jayna let me charge up while she went for food. She forwarded some information, now that we’d exchanged phone numbers and emails. And started following each other on socials. I hoped some of the information would stay in my head which was aching again. Still. I picked up the phone, tethered to the outlet, and opened what she’d sent me.

I was still looking at videos when Jayna returned. She carried a bag in one hand, her cane in the other. “I got subs, whole wheat bread, water to drink. Should work for your training and your hangover.”

I set down the phone. “Thanks.”

She dropped into her chair and pulled out the food, shoving mine to my side of her desk. “How’d the research go?”

I swallowed a bite, the food hitting the spot. “You’re twenty-five, a year older than me. You were born and raised in Brandon, Manitoba. Not far from Montana.” At least, not for people raised in places where the nearest city was a drive of several hours.

She nodded.

“One brother, older, who’s currently playing hockey in Europe.”

A frown crossed her face, so I wondered if they had sibling rivalry issues. If so, Jayna was winning.

“You’ve been with the Bonfire for four years. You’ve won the Frozen Four, the Isobel Cup, and a fucking gold medal at the Olympics.”

She smiled. “I absolutely fucking have.”

We resumed eating. “You know, when I saw you I thought you’d be a winger. One of those players who make a goalie’s life miserable.”

“I try. I can’t wait to get back on the ice to do that.”

“I saw a video of you going down, back in the fall. Was that what happened to—” I gestured to where her knee was under the desk.

She nodded, frowning again. “It was a stupid hit. I didn’t have the puck. She was just taking it out on me because we were winning that game. She got a penalty, but me…”

I cringed. I’d broken my leg freshman year and had to come back from that, so I’d been in her shoes. That mindset, when I wondered if I ever would play again? I shivered. Not something to dwell on. Superstitious? Absolutely. I’d recovered, I was back, and if I could play this charade for a while I might still have the NHL career I’d been dreaming of since the first time I held a hockey stick.

“So, is there a women’s professional team in Winnipeg?” There was a men’s team. Maybe Jayna wished she played closer to home.

She narrowed her eyes. “No. You really don’t know much about women’s hockey, do you?”

My cheeks heated up. I had no idea how many women played and how competitive it was.

I felt like more of an asshole than when I’d first watched that video of myself this morning. Jayna was good. Faith had been impressive last night. They’d both worked their asses off to get where they were, and I’d ignored all that. Faith might have had her father’s— our father’s—connections to help her, but she had fewer opportunities than me. I needed to get my self-absorbed head out of my own ass and appreciate my good fortune. “No, I don’t. That’s a shortcoming on my part. I want to fix that.”

I’d show Jayna and Faith and the rest of the world that I wasn’t a whiny brat, and I’d do what I could to help their sport. And yeah, I’d also be trying to salvage my own career. But at least now I had a better understanding of what I’d done.

She smirked. “Oh, we’re going to get you fixed. Now, we should take a selfie together. First public notice of our dating.”

“Do we have to?” I whined. “I look like shit.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll use filters. But we have to get this story established ASAP.” She looked around the office.

It was small. Really small. She stood up and limped around to my side, dropping into my lap. My arms flailed, unsure what was happening and what I should do.

She scowled at me. “I’m not that heavy.”

Shit, was I giving her the idea I thought she was fat? “You just surprised me. Am I supposed to hug you or something?”

She settled more comfortably on my lap, the smell of her shampoo right in my nose. Apples? It had been a while since I’d been close to a woman. She leaned on my chest, and my dick, overcoming any hangover effects, started to take notice. I told it to stand down.

“Arms around me, big smile, like you want me to be here.”

My body was happy, so I pulled Jayna close and rested my head on hers. I gave my best smile—digging up some of that excitement from the game last night, and she took photos.

She stayed on my lap while she checked them over. “That’ll do. You actually look like you’re happy with me.”

I was. Maybe I could pull this off.

* * *

Exhaustion dragged at me as I pushed through the door of our townhouse. Luke was sprawled on the couch, playing a video game.

When he saw me he paused the game and tossed the controller aside. “You okay?”

He looked worried, which was fair. Not only was he the closest friend I had, he’d saved my ass this morning, and I hadn’t been in touch since I left.

There was too much to tell him, too much to work out to do it on a phone call at the Blaze arena or while I was in an Uber on the way to the bar where I’d left my truck. The driver had a Blaze phone charger and water bottle, and I had to watch every fucking word for a while.

I dropped on the couch and pressed my palms to my eyes. I rubbed them, trying to figure out where to start.

“Mitch?”

I let my hands drop with a sigh. “I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

He frowned. “What did they do?”

I snorted. “They” had left everything to Kira and Jayna, and the two of them had done…a lot and nothing. I’d been the one to start this, and I was the one who had to do most of the heavy lifting. Me and Jayna. But Luke was still clueless, and I needed him with me on this.

“Okay, first thing, I’m playing for the Blaze for I don’t even know how long. They need a backup, and that’s me.”

Luke pumped his fist. “That’s great. They weren’t pissed by the video?”

“Oh, they’re pissed. Super pissed. But they still need me to play.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “They’re short a goalie?”

“They didn’t tell me, just that I’m still playing, but if you connect the dots…”

“Well, I’m sorry for whoever you’re bumping, but this is great for you.”

It was saving my ass is what it was.

“You just get away with it?”

Reasonable question. Hockey players got away with stuff all the time. But usually established players, not someone barely called-up like me. “No. I need your help, and you have to not tell anyone.”

Luke waited, steady and trustworthy. He was from Newfoundland, about as far as you could get from Montana, but neither of us were from big cities and we’d had a lot to get used to when we arrived with the Inferno. I had a couple of inches on him in height, but he was sturdier. Broad and muscled, making him hard to get off the puck.

“The video is out there. I said stupid shit about Faith Devereaux, and I can’t undo it. It makes me look like I don’t respect women hockey players, and that’s not acceptable. So the team’s publicity people have a plan.”

Luke smirked. “This I’ve got to hear.”

I held up my hand and went to the fridge for some water. I explained as I poured a glass. “I was pissed with Faith because my girlfriend went to celebrate with her, instead of with me.”

Luke blinked. “But you don’t have a girlfriend. I mean, do you? I haven’t seen you with anyone.” He furrowed his brow, trying to remember if he’d seen me with a girl more than once.

He hadn’t. I’d decided before college that nothing was going to distract me from hockey, including dating. “I do now.”

“You do?”

“Not a real girlfriend, obviously.”

His face cleared. “Okay, so I didn’t miss anything.”

“No, but you have to pretend that Jayna and I have been seeing each other for a while.”

“Jayna?”

I came back to the couch. “Yeah, my new girlfriend. She’s a teammate of Faith’s, currently on IR, and she does social media for the Blaze and the Bonfire. We were keeping the relationship quiet because she works for the Blaze, and since that secrecy blew up in a bad way, with me going on a drunken video rant, we have a special dispensation from the team to date.”

Luke’s jaw dropped. He didn’t say anything, just blinked at me.

“And we’re going out for dinner in—” I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “Damn it. In an hour. I gotta move.”

“You can’t.” Luke stood and held up a hand like he was a traffic cop.

I rubbed my forehead. Had I forgotten something in this day from hell? “I’m supposed to go out to dinner with my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, but the guys are coming over. Remember? I told you this morning.”

My memories of the morning were buried under all the information I’d been taking in about Jayna. “You did?”

“To celebrate.”

“To celebrate what?”

Luke rolled his eyes at me. “You were called up. You got a win. We couldn’t do anything last night ’cause we were on the road, but we’re partying tonight.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat. My team— former team?—had my back. They wanted to show me they were happy I’d played with the big team, and at least in the game I’d done well. We always had a party when someone was called up, even if only for one game. I couldn’t be the guy who was so full of himself he wouldn’t hang out with his friends because they were on the farm team.

Shit. But I also needed to do this thing with Jayna to salvage my reputation and career. The Inferno had a game tomorrow, so we couldn’t move the party, and I had no idea what plans Jayna had. I needed to be in two places at once, unless…could we do both? “Let me talk to Jayna.”

Luke opened his mouth, undoubtedly to make the kind of comment we always did when one of the guys had to get permission from his girlfriend.

I shook my head. “Not because she’s my girlfriend but because she’s my PR person.” My future with the Blaze organization was on the line.

I pulled out the phone as I headed to my room. I texted:

The Inferno are coming to my place to celebrate my win. Can we work that in?

I set the phone to charge on my bedside table and stripped off my clothes to get a shower. I needed to wash off the last of the hangover and the confusion of this day and get back into the game. The game of what I was doing with my hockey life.

When I’d showered and pulled on some jeans and a sweater, there was a response from Jayna.

This can work. We’ll use the party to launch us as a couple. What time should I come over?

I shot the answer back to Jayna. For a moment I stared at the phone, nerves getting the best of me. It was one thing to pretend to be dating her at a restaurant where we didn’t know anyone. But this? In front of my teammates?

I hoped like hell the two of us could act that well. In the meantime, I needed to call my parents so they’d know why I suddenly had a girlfriend.

* * *

Jayna

Megan and I came by Uber so we wouldn’t have to worry about parking or driving home. I’d convinced Kira that contributing to the party would make this dating thing go over more smoothly—guys who’d had a few beers were less likely to be suspicious of our “relationship”—so I was able to expense some stuff to bring with me. I’d snagged a wheeled cooler from work with the Blaze logo on it, and Megan hauled it out of the car with me, full of nicer beer. I’d been around enough Blaze events to level up my beer taste. Some of the players swore by their Molson and Labatt’s, but players like Cooper were a lot pickier. I was also going to order enough pizza to ensure every member of the Inferno would support “Jaydon,” as Megan was calling it. I threatened her if she used it tonight.

The Inferno were based in Hamilton, on the western edge of Toronto, and real estate was cheaper here in Oakville, between the two cities. It was also a long commute from our place, near the Bonfire arena, so neither of us knew the area. The address Mitchell had given me was a townhouse, fortunately an end unit, so this party wouldn’t disturb too many people. I hesitated on the doorstep, a victim of nerves that had my stomach feeling queasy. Could I pretend I was dating this guy? Yes, I found him attractive, but I’d never dated a hockey player. Never wanted to.

I’d already booked some extra physio time with the money that would be coming in with the additional hours I’d be working as Braydon’s date. I was committed to playing this fall, so it was too late for second-guessing. I pasted a smile on my face while I knocked on the door before jamming my hands back in my jacket pockets. Was the noise too loud for anyone to hear my knock?

The whole team must be here, based on the cars parked nearby and the noise. If I could get photos of the team celebrating, and me in the midst of it, it would look like Braydon and I were an established duo. The result would be a lot of attention to what was up with Braydon and me without manipulating press coverage overtly. Hopefully tomorrow, when we had our press event—I needed to let Braydon know that was happening—reporters would be asking about the photos and we could segue that into the explanation we wanted to give for Braydon’s tantrum. In theory, the presser was to announce he was staying with the Blaze through the playoffs, but it was part of his image rehabilitation as well.

Should I call him Braydon? Or Mitch, like his teammates did? I shivered. I’d never had a hockey player boyfriend, so I had no precedent. I’d never called previous boyfriends by their last names or nicknames. Damn it, why wasn’t there a playbook?

“Ready?” Megan asked. “You look a little nervous.”

“Why would I be nervous? I just have to sell that I’m dating a hockey player…who I met this morning.”

My toes were starting to tingle. Tired of waiting, and my nerves, I tried the doorknob, which turned in my hand. Megan rolled her eyes. Once the door was open, we were met by a wall of noise—music and voices—and a pile of coats and boots and shoes. The footwear was all size huge, and I had to shove them aside so we could get through with the cooler. Then we were exposed to the Inferno.

Video games played on a big-screen TV. The music switched from a twangy country number to a rap song, which made me wonder who was in charge of the song choices. I scanned through the forest of big male bodies to find “my” guy. When I did, I didn’t know whether to throw something at him or just turn around and walk out.

There were very few women here, and one was sitting on Braydon’s lap, arms twined around his neck. I was furious and a little hurt. This fake dating wasn’t helping my career. It could potentially hurt it if people found out it was a stunt. Yet here he was, blowing up our cover story in the douchiest possible way. I’d believed him when he’d been all apologetic in my office, believed that he was a nice guy who’d made a mistake because of some awkward circumstances. Now the asshole couldn’t keep his hands off another woman for a few fucking hours?

I would never accept someone disrespecting me like this, for my job or not. Yeah, athletes cheated—not a shocking bit of information—but not on me. I’d been fighting to be taken seriously all my life, and I refused to take anything less. Especially from someone I was trying to help. I’d pivoted on my good leg and taken a step for the door when the music suddenly cut off.

“Jayna!”

I wanted to keep walking, so fucking badly. My job , I reminded myself. Proving to Radner that starting Faith wasn’t a mistake. The money. I wished I could say fuck off to all of that, but that wasn’t realistic. I twisted back, reluctantly. “Yeah?”

The woman wasn’t on his lap any longer. From the way she was sprawled on the floor, Braydon must have shoved her off quickly. Not helping his case at all.

“Sorry—this isn’t what it looks like.”

My eyebrows shot up. I felt Megan behind me and knew I had her support. The game players were ignoring us, but the rest of the crowd was watching Braydon and the girl on the floor.

“Hey, assholes!” Braydon looked at his teammates and waved at me, saying, “This is Jayna. I told you I had a girlfriend. Stop sending the girls over.”

Everyone stared at me. Just like how the butterflies disappeared once I stepped on the ice, mine were gone. I wasn’t playing a hockey game but I did have a job to do. I might as well let everyone know what kind of girlfriend I planned to be. I took a couple of steps toward Braydon, poking with my cane to make sure I didn’t trip on something, or someone. Once I was standing in front of him, I crossed my arms, cane in my hand as I glared. “I better not see you with someone on your lap again.”

Braydon shook his head, eyes wide. “No, I swear. I told them to stop.”

Easy to say, and it didn’t mean he’d tried very hard. However, he knew what was at stake here, and he damn well better not piss me off any further. I heard some muttering, and I imagined the kinds of comments these dumbasses would make about someone like me. Too bad. I wasn’t changing.

I propped my free arm on my hip. “Want me to do the same, boyfriend?” I turned my glare on the rest of the guys in the room before jerking my head at Megan. “This is my teammate, Megan.”

A moment of silence.

“We brought beer,” Megan said.

The grumbles vanished in the presence of hops. I held my ground as the guys moved toward the entrance where Megan had left the cooler.

Braydon stood in front of me. “I really am sorry. The guys didn’t know—they thought they were doing me a favor. I swear, she’d just sat down when you arrived.”

I put a finger on his chest. “I’ve fought my whole life to be respected, as a hockey player and as a woman. And I will not go through with this if you’re not taking it equally seriously.”

His eyes were still a little wide, the blue standing out. I couldn’t really blame the puck bunny. If all I’d been looking for was a pretty face and muscled body, I’d have been all over this guy as well.

He crossed an X on his chest. “I swear, I am.”

I wanted to roll my eyes at that, but I’d made him pinky swear, so…

“Kiss and make up already!” The voice came from the kitchen.

I had no idea which teammate it was, and I didn’t care. As long as they believed Braydon and I were a couple, they didn’t matter. Braydon opened his mouth—to say what, I didn’t know—but it was time to start the dating game. I grabbed the front of his blue sweater and pulled him to me. “Showtime,” I muttered and then I kissed him.

I surprised him. For a moment, his lips under mine didn’t move, soft but totally passive. Then he got the idea and slid a hand to the back of my head. He tugged me closer, and damn, the boy could kiss. His lips pressed on mine, and his tongue licked at the seam of my mouth.

I forgot that this was a show. I wrapped myself up in the kiss, letting him in, hands clenched on his shirt and my body pressing up against his. Then the noise of the catcalls around us worked through my lust haze and I quickly snapped back to reality. This was fake.

I pulled back and he resisted, hand gripping my hair. I pushed against his chest and he immediately stepped back, hand dropping.

I turned to face the team, most of them watching the show we’d put on for them with beer in their hand—the ones we’d brought. No one looked suspicious. There were a lot of smirks, and they’d probably give Braydon a hard time later. Not my problem. Who knew if he’d see them again before this was over?

Time to win some goodwill. “The Blaze are funding pizza. Who wants what?”