Page 10
CHAPTER 10
Rafferty
I ’m new to Pittsburgh, only having lived here since September, but I’ve learned something about the Phipps Conservatory. I know, for example, this historic landmark was built in 1893 by steel tycoon Henry Phipps as a gift to the city. While its primary purpose is to provide horticultural education, it’s a popular venue for weddings such as the one I’m attending this evening.
Stone Dumelin isn’t the first Titans player to get married here. Our goalie coach, Baden Oulett, married his fiancée Sophie here this past July, and I’ve heard tales of how beautiful it was. On the way over, my date—my stunning fake girlfriend Tempe Martin—filled me in on what to expect, but her words really didn’t do it justice.
The conservatory spans fifteen acres, at the center of which stands a massive glasshouse featuring fourteen different rooms that showcase various plants from all around the world. Apparently, Christmas is the time to visit as the entire place is lit with an infinite constellation of lights and every corner houses a vibrant holiday display.
The wedding is taking place inside the Broderie Room, which I find to be a unique choice because there’s no space for traditional seating. It’s made up of floral beds with walkways between them and while I imagine they rotate seasonal plantings, tonight every single bed is filled to the brim with vibrant red poinsettias bordered by neatly trimmed green hedges. The guests fill in along the pathways, standing shoulder to shoulder.
Above us, delicate white lights drape from the ornate glass ceiling, illuminating the space in an almost fairy-tale way. Tempe keeps tilting her head back as we wait for the ceremony to start, eyes roaming over crystal-draped chandeliers that reflect as a million sparkles in her green eyes.
I try not to stare at her but it’s virtually impossible because while I can’t deny she’s so incredibly attractive in all ways, she took my breath away when I picked her up at her house this evening.
She opened the door to me, a broad smile on her face, but I stared mutely, unable to process what I was seeing. She assured me she had a gown that would be appropriate for a formal night wedding, but I couldn’t have imagined in a million years how amazing she’d look in the sapphire floor-length gown with a fitted top and plunging neckline. The skirt is made of some flowy material that flutters around her legs when she walks. She’s draped a matching velvet shawl around her pale shoulders and a tiny pearl clutch is her only adornment. She did her hair in pinned-up curls, a few strands framing her face, and all I could say was, “Wow!”
That tickled her so much, she laughed in delight. Her eyes moved over me, dimples popping. My tuxedo is bland compared to her dress, but her compliment was sincere. “You’re more handsome than ever.”
Be still my fucking heart. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a woman call me handsome before. I mean, I’ve been called hot, and an animal in bed, and probably a lot of other dirty names, but there was something so earnest about the word handsome coming from her mouth that I had the insane urge to preen.
Jesus… what is this woman doing to me?
Even now as I watch her admire the twinkling lights, I notice more details that had escaped me. Her makeup is impeccably done, emphasizing her natural beauty without being overbearing. I’ve not seen her wear much more than maybe some mascara or lip gloss, so her smoky eyes and long lashes make her eyes more than just beautiful.
They’re hypnotizing, and when she periodically turns them to me to make a comment or ask a question, I feel like I’m in danger of losing my ability to speak.
“Wow,” Tempe breathes as her eyes land on a white Christmas tree tucked into a corner, sparkling as if encrusted with a million diamonds. Her hand has been tucked into the crook of my elbow since we arrived and we’ve settled into a corner between two poinsettia beds.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I say, squeezing her hand gently. The warmth from her touch is reassuring, because no matter how magical the moment right now, we’re still attempting to maintain a ploy to convince Tansy that I’m fully taken by this woman.
Moving through the crowd, I see my buds approaching, intent on circling the wagons around me and Tempe. Partly to insulate us from prying questions that might come from teammates surprised to see me with a date, and partly to lend credibility to Tansy that Tempe is known and accepted by other team members.
So far, I haven’t seen the infuriating woman, but I know she’ll be here since she’s in the upper executive level of management.
Atlas reaches us first, shakes my hand, and then gives Tempe an appraising look. “Hey, Tempe. You look beautiful.”
North leans in and gives her a peck on the cheek and I’m sure it’s a calculated move in case Tansy is lurking somewhere watching. “You’re the prettiest fake girlfriend Rafferty has ever had.”
Tempe laughs and then her gaze moves to King and Foster, both of whom have significant others on their arms. I take a moment to introduce her to Willa and Mazzy, two women I’ve gotten to know pretty well over the last two months.
Mazzy smiles warmly at Tempe. “Foster filled me in, and just know Willa and I got your back.”
“You mean my back, right?” I say teasingly.
Willa rolls her eyes, giving me a playful punch. “Your back is covered by the guys. We’ve got Tempe’s and if that psycho woman bothers her, we’ll make sure she regrets it.”
I blink in surprise at the vehemence in her voice as King chuckles. “That’s my girl.”
Music from a string quartet starts, a signal I’m assuming that the ceremony will begin soon. More guests filter in through a set of wrought iron gates, crowding into the spaces and paths in between the beds but leaving open one particular walkway bordered by white velvet ropes to a small dais in the very center. It has a white lattice archway covered with hundreds of white flowers in what might be a dozen different varieties that I can’t identify, other than some white roses.
The chatter dies down and then goes utterly silent as all heads turn toward a side door through which the minister appears. Behind him comes Stone, accompanied by our assistant coach, Gage Heyward, as his best man. They’re part of what us newer players call the “old guard”—the main group of Titans who came together to rebuild the team after the crash.
Stone’s brother, Brooks, was a Titans player and was on the plane when it went down. Stone met his soon-to-be wife, Harlow, when he took his place on the new team as she was best friends with Brooks. Stone bonded with Gage, who played one year with the Titans before moving into coaching, so it’s no surprise he’s Stone’s best man.
Stone stands at the front, looking coolly confident in his sleek black tuxedo. He exchanges words with Gage, who laughs in response.
And then the music morphs into the “Wedding March” and the wrought iron gates at the rear swing open. Harlow stands there flanked by both her mom and dad. She has no maid or matron of honor, just her parents giving her away, which I think is a very sweet touch.
A collective sigh rises from Tempe, Willa and Mazzy, and I can’t blame them. Harlow is a vision in a sleek, fitted white dress designed to flatter her figure. The bodice is covered in lace floral patterns and pearls and her vivid red hair is in a romantic tumble of waves down past her shoulders, enhancing her pale skin. She wears no veil or tiara, but rather two butterfly-shaped pearl clips to hold her hair back from her face. I glance over at Stone who looks like he just got clobbered over the head with a mallet, he’s so boggled by her beauty.
As Harlow walks toward Stone, the music softens, and the murmurs fade to silence. Her dad kisses her cheek as her mother dabs at tears, and then they step off to the side as Stone takes their place. His eyes shine as he takes Harlow’s hands, staring down at her, and something about the love in his expression touches me. I’ve been around Stone and Harlow plenty, and they are overly affectionate with each other. Stone always talks about her with utter reverence. But the way they’re staring at each other now, as if no one else exists, makes me wonder what that feels like. It’s unfathomable to me, and yet I can’t help but glance down at Tempe at my side as she watches with a soft smile on her face.
I scan the crowd, everyone so fully invested in this couple’s happiness, that I can feel the vibe of love.
And then my eyes land on Tansy, standing diagonally across the room from me. She’s not looking at Stone and Harlow at all, instead focused on Tempe. I don’t like the mixture of irritation and cold calculation on her face, and I can almost see the inner wheels of her brain spinning.
I look away before she feels my eyes on her and concentrate on the ceremony. The officiant speaks briefly about love and commitment before turning the floor over to the couple for their vows.
Stone clears his throat, his eyes never leaving his soon-to-be wife. His vows ring out loud and confident in the massive hall. “Harlow, I think back to when we first met and how distrustful I was of you, and well… of life. My world was dark, having lost Brooks, and I couldn’t fathom leaving the shadows. But from the start, you challenged me to be a better man. You continually inspire me, and you love me unconditionally. Today, I promise to be your partner in all things, not just when it’s easy, but especially when it’s hard. I vow to make our family’s love and happiness my priority and to cherish every moment we have together. I know that Brooks is watching. I can feel him here with us and I can’t imagine anything that would make him happier than knowing you’ll be by my side forever.”
Harlow smiles, tears glimmering. Her mom passes her a tissue and she presses it to the corner of one eye before clearing her throat, her smile bright and joyous. “Stone, you are my rock, my safe place, and my greatest adventure. I vow to support your dreams because through them, your soul shines. I promise to laugh with you, cry with you, and grow with you, no matter what lies ahead. Together, we can face anything.”
Their vows strike a chord in me, resonating with a depth of emotion that makes me glance again at Tempe. She’s watching them, her eyes misty, a soft smile playing on her lips. The sincerity in their words, the openness of their promises, makes me wonder about the possibilities of something real—something more than a charade.
And I’m not sure why. What is it about this woman that has me considering things that never crossed my mind? Is it the magical setting of this wedding, or is it simply that Tempe is unlike anyone I’ve ever known? Maybe both?
As Stone and Harlow are pronounced husband and wife, the crowd erupts into applause. Tempe goes to her tiptoes, her breath warm against my ear. “That was beautiful,” she murmurs.
“It was,” I agree, the moment wrapping around us, drawing us closer. It feels right, being here with her, and for a fleeting second, I forget that we’re here under false pretenses. It’s a feeling that I like so much, I don’t intend to let go of it throughout the rest of the evening. I realize that tonight might just be such a good act, Tansy will become a distant memory, and that means, so too might Tempe.
I’m going to make the most of this fake wedding date.
?
The reception is in the special events hall and the adjoining Tropical Conservatory, both of which have been transformed into a winter wonderland. The ceiling is covered with cascading strings of crystal-clear lights that mimic a gentle snowfall, made even more beautiful by the fact that it’s actually snowing outside. Looking past the lights, you can see the glow of real flakes swirling outside the glass-paned ceiling, and it’s utterly magical. At the center of the room is an extravagant crystal chandelier from which hang hundreds of hand-blown glass ornaments that dangle like icicles.
Lush garlands of scented greenery interspersed with holly berries and mistletoe hang from every nook, cranny and corner of the room, and in the center is a massive twenty-foot Christmas tree, lavishly decorated in gold, silver and white.
In the adjoining Tropical Conservatory, the natural greenery is enhanced with subtle holiday decorations that complement rather than compete with the exotic plants. Small, delicate fairy lights twinkle from within the foliage, and pathways are lined with softly glowing lanterns, leading guests through a magical, tropical setting. Tables are set with white linens and a centerpiece of frosted pine cones, crystal icicles and orchids that seem to bloom from a bed of sparkling snow.
There’s no assigned seating and the elegant food is served buffet style, which is fortunate for my band of merry co-conspirators. We perfectly fit at a table of eight, nabbing flutes of champagne from passing waiters.
The clink of glasses and the murmur of laughter surround us, but now the real test begins—surviving the reception with Tansy lurking somewhere nearby. I glance around, ensuring she isn’t making a beeline for us yet.
“So, that was quite the ceremony, huh?” I start, trying to keep the mood light. Tempe nods, her eyes bright, still captivated by the ambiance of this place transformed into a winter wonderland.
“It was beautiful,” she agrees before sipping her champagne. “Harlow looks amazing.”
“Yeah, those vows were something else,” Atlas chimes in, shaking his head with a wry smile. “Makes a guy reconsider the whole marriage gig.”
King, sitting next to his girlfriend Willa, laughs. “You? Married? I’ll believe it when I see it, dude.”
Willa rests her chin in the palm of her hand. “It was a fairy-tale ceremony. Every girl’s dream.”
King brushes hair back from her face. “Your dream?”
“Maybe once upon a time but I think I’m over that now.”
I assume Willa’s referencing the fact she was married to a real douchebag before. Still, I know King would give her whatever type of wedding she wanted and I have no doubt that’s where they’re headed. He fell hard for Willa and had to work to convince her to give him a chance. He’d offer her the world.
Foster raises his glass, a smirk playing on his lips. “To Stone and Harlow, may they have better luck than Rafferty avoiding crazy.”
Laughter bursts from the group, and even I can’t help but join in. It’s good to have friends who can make light of your miseries.
“Speaking of, has anyone seen Tansy yet?” Mazzy asks, scanning the crowd. “I thought she’d have crashed this table by now.”
“I saw her during the ceremony,” I say with distaste. “She was staring daggers at Tempe.”
“I noticed it too,” Tempe says, and I’m surprised by that. She seems completely unfazed though, and she nods off to the left. We all look that way and I spot Tansy across the room, who is, in fact, right now staring at us.
“Great,” I mutter, and then twist in my chair to face Tempe. “This was a bad idea. I don’t like that her attention is on you.”
“That’s probably thanks to your stellar acting at the photo shoot, Tempe,” North adds, giving her a teasing nudge. “Got her questioning her own sanity.”
“I think we should go,” I say, suddenly feeling uneasy, but Tempe blows it off.
Shaking her head, she puts her hand on my arm. “We’re doing no such thing. We’re not going to let that nutjob run you off from your friend’s wedding. Besides, you and I are surrounded by friends. She won’t do anything stupid.”
Tempe sure has a lot of faith in a woman who is, by all accounts, unhinged.
“Maybe not right now, but we’re leaving tomorrow for a quick in-and-out game in Florida.” I don’t like that Tempe will be here in Pittsburgh, as will Tansy. She doesn’t travel with the team, but maybe I’m being paranoid.
Tempe doesn’t respond to my worry, instead saying, “That must be exhausting. Traveling there, playing a game, then flying back?”
“It’s all about routine,” King explains. “You get used to it. The real challenge is keeping the energy up for the games, especially these quick turnarounds, but our team plane is surprisingly comfortable and we’ll all sleep as much as we can while in the air.”
“Oh shit,” Mazzy says under her breath. Tansy heads toward our table, stride assured, her chin lifted in defiance.
Involuntarily, I drape my arm over the back of Tempe’s chair, the tips of my fingers brushing against her shoulder. She doesn’t flinch at either my touch or Tansy’s approach.
It’s funny how there was a day I once thought Tansy was smoking hot… the type of beauty that most women dream of and men can’t resist. But her ludicrous behavior and vanity has made her completely unattractive and sadly, she doesn’t get it.
She offers a fake smile as she comes up on my left, looking back and forth. “Rafferty, Tempe,” she begins, her tone sugary sweet. “Still playing house, I see?”
I can actually feel my friends tense around me, a circle of solidarity forming as they prepare to defend our lie.
“Yes, Tansy,” I reply, my arm moving to drape over Tempe’s shoulders. “We’re very happy together.”
Atlas is the first to jump in, to stake his position at our backs. “Give it a rest, Tansy. They’re great together. You’re just jealous.”
Tansy’s eyes narrow, and she scans the faces around the table, each of my friends nodding and murmuring their agreement.
“It’s really none of your business, Tansy,” North adds. “Let them be.”
Tempe doesn’t say a word but she does lean into me, her hand coming to rest on my thigh, which Tansy can clearly see.
She scoffs, her gaze flickering with annoyance. She glances around the room, eyes landing on a fixed location, and my stomach drops when I see her staring at Brienne across the room with her husband, Drake McGinn, our team’s goalie.
Her attention then comes back to me, her expression taunting. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I must go talk to my cousin. It’s been awhile since we caught up.”
“Tansy,” I warn, my tone laced with menace. I can’t stop her from spewing lies about me and she knows I have no power.
She bends over and so quick I can’t prevent the touch, she pats my cheek before pulling away. “It’s cute when you panic.” With that, she spins on her heel and stalks off toward Brienne.
None of us says a word, my heart in my throat as Tansy gives Brienne a warm hug and they start chatting amiably. We wait for Brienne to look our way, indicating that Tansy is indeed filling her head with lies, but she doesn’t. In fact, she doesn’t speak to Tansy for long at all, turning to shake hands with some other folks paying their respects.
“It’s only a threat she doesn’t intend to follow through with,” Foster says confidently.
“Or she just didn’t want to make waves at the wedding,” Mazzy suggests, her tone hard and skeptical.
“It’s still a threat,” Tempe says quietly. “One she knows she can keep hanging over you.”
“But she knows she’s lost,” North says with a disgusted shake of his head.
I frown at him. “What makes you think that? She was just here gloating over her disbelief.”
“Because it’s clear at this point, she’s operating on pure jealousy and anger that you won’t give her the time of day.”
Willa nods. “It does seem like she’s enjoying this as more of a way to get back at you for not choosing her. I think Foster might be right… it’s an empty threat.”
Maybe, but the weight of her potential influence with Brienne hangs over me like a dark cloud. I feel a hand squeeze mine under the table—Tempe’s. Her silent support tells me she’s in this, no matter what comes.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to use the restroom,” Tempe says, releasing my hand.
I look around and Tansy has melted into the crowd. I know very well that Tempe can handle herself, but I don’t like the possibility of Tansy accosting her in any way, so I rise from the table to pull out her chair. “I’ll go with you.”
Tempe doesn’t argue and instead slips her hand back in mine.
“Christ, you two make the cutest couple,” North teases with a laugh and everyone else joins in, including Tempe.
“World’s greatest actors,” Atlas quips and while our friends keep laughing, I don’t.
“Come on,” I say, tugging her by the hand.
We weave through other revelers, thankfully avoiding Tansy in the throng. With the help of an attendant, we find the restrooms, a line of four unisex facilities, and Tempe chooses one with a green vacant tag on the door. She enters, flips the latch and the sign turns red with the word Occupied showing.
I wait outside for Tempe, leaning casually against the wall and nodding as other people I know go in and out of the bathrooms. It doesn’t take her long and she exits, letting another woman swish past her to enter.
I straighten, offer my elbow to her. “Ready to go back and get some food? I’m sure there will be dancing not long after, and we’ll need our energy.”
Tempe grins, sliding her hand into the crook of my elbow, and I find I like it there very much. But then she glances to the left and whispers under her breath, “Shit. Here comes trouble.”
I know she means Tansy and I tense, prepared to turn around and face her with bared teeth if necessary because I’m sick of this shit. But before I can move, Tempe throws her arms over my shoulders, going to her tiptoes and locking me in a blistering kiss that sends fire racing through my entire body.
This is more than the other two kisses we’ve shared, because Tempe presses her curvy body into mine. There’s not an inch between us as her fingers sift into my hair and my hands drift to her waist.
She lifts her mouth slightly, lips still brushing against mine and whispers, “Go all out on this one, Raff. Let’s make her believe it right here.”
And then I almost groan when her fingers latch onto my wrist and she drags my hand down to her ass.
My palm burns and I clutch involuntarily, then voluntarily as I squeeze the round globe, pulling her tighter into my body. My dick gets hard, but I don’t give a fuck because Tempe’s tongue is back in my mouth.
A tiny moan bubbles out of her throat, a kitteny purr, and it inflames me further. I spin us around and walk her into the wall I’d been leaning against. She gasps as I drive my hips against hers to pin her in place and then I check out just how handy that long slit is in her gown by sliding my hand inside, grasping the back of her thigh and pulling her leg up over my hip.
“Fuck,” Tempe groans and I think perhaps I’ve gone too far, but she demands, “More.”
I don’t know how much more I can give without sticking my hand down her panties or pulling her into the bathroom for a quickie.
Yes… one of those bathrooms.
That will work.
And as if serendipity were a word created just for me and Tempe, one of the rooms opens and an older woman comes out in a cloud of perfume. Without thought, without care about who is watching but hoping just a tiny bit that Tansy is, I grab Tempe’s hand and pull her into the restroom before the door swings shut. I twist the lock, hear the snick that announces to the rest of the world this room is occupied, and turn to face Tempe.
She stands there, eyes wild and chest heaving, staring at me with an intense yearning that ensures I won’t talk myself out of this.
“Getting ready to cross a line,” I say in a thick, gruff voice. “This won’t be about trying to trick Tansy.”
The corner of Tempe’s mouth lifts, one dimple contracting. “She could be outside that door right now with her ear pressed against it.”
“Could be,” I say softly, advancing on Tempe. “But let’s not think about her. Instead, tell me if you meant it when you said more .”
Tempe’s teeth dig into her lower lip, her fingers fluttering near her throat as she contemplates my question. There’s no describing the relief—nor the lust—I feel when she nods. “I meant it.”