Page 4

CHAPTER 4

Tempe

I ’m met with a waft of garlic and herbs when I enter the Italian restaurant that I suggested to Rafferty earlier. My stomach growls because I’ve been so busy today, I barely had time to shove a protein bar down my throat during my break. I jetted home when I got off shift, checked on my mom and Coop, changed clothes and then hightailed it here. Admittedly, I’m intrigued by this offer to be a fake girlfriend for Rafferty and I can’t pass up the opportunity to get a thousand bucks for a few hours of work. It’s going straight toward this month’s mortgage, and now I won’t have to worry about it for another thirty days.

Rafferty is already here, sitting at a corner table that offers a good view of the door and the rest of the restaurant. He stands when he sees me, which throws me a bit because it seems a little old-fashioned.

Not that I’m complaining.

The restaurant’s soft lighting catches the contours of his face, highlighting his strong jawline and the slight stubble that gives him a rugged yet refined look. He’s so damn gorgeous, I can see why he has a woman hell-bent on getting him. I note he’s wearing the same dark jeans and button-down he wore into the grocery store earlier, his unbuttoned peacoat now hanging over the back of his chair.

It was a shock when he told me he was a Pittsburgh Titan and yes, I had a slight moment of being starstruck. I’ve never met a professional athlete or anyone remotely famous in my life. And as I walk toward him, I can see that he is indeed an athlete through and through. His shoulders are broad and his entire frame is proportionally built. I’m tall for a woman coming in at five nine, but he towers over me by several inches, making me feel almost dainty.

“Hey, Tempe,” he says, warmth in his response. “Thanks again for meeting me like this.”

“No worries,” I respond, slipping into the chair he holds out for me. He waits for me to scoot in before sitting down himself, which is even more mannerly. I skim the menu as I admit, “I’m starved. The eggplant Parmesan is really good here, as is the butternut squash ravioli.”

I glance up to see Rafferty just watching me, his menu closed and resting on the table. He gives me a lopsided smile. “I’m a simple guy, so I’m going with plain spaghetti and meatballs.”

“For a simple guy, you sure did get yourself messed up in some drama,” I note, setting my menu on the table and taking a sip of the water that must’ve been poured when Rafferty was seated.

He shakes his head, scraping his fingers through his hair in apparent frustration. “I seriously don’t understand with the hell is going on. I’ve done nothing to make this woman believe I want to see her. It was a hookup—” He stops abruptly, grimacing at the admission. “Sorry… I know that’s crass and you probably think I’m the biggest asshole in the world.”

I shake my head. “No I don’t. You seem like a decent guy and who among us hasn’t had a one-night stand? I wouldn’t judge you on that alone, but why does she keep coming after you?”

“I have no idea. At first, I didn’t know she was related to the team owner, Brienne Norcross, or else I would have never messed with her. She didn’t tell me either. But after we went our separate ways, so to speak, she kept running into me, offering to get together. I kept declining as I wasn’t interested, but—”

“Why did you keep declining?” I ask. “I mean… she’s stunningly beautiful, clearly smart. You were obviously attracted enough to sleep with her. What’s not to like about taking her up on that offer again?”

Rafferty stares at me as if I’ve got horns growing out of my head but then chuckles low. “You seriously think that’s all men care about? Looks and sex?”

I stare at him, waiting for him to come to his own conclusion and finally, he laughs. “Okay, okay… men can be pretty basic. And yes, she’s beautiful, but there wasn’t enough of a connection for me to want to see her again. I can’t explain it, but I have this sense that she’s not trustworthy, and then add to that she seems to be stalking me pretty hard—I just want her to go away.”

I have a momentary burst of empathy for Rafferty and his situation. I also appreciate that he seems to be a bit more than just a dumb jock looking to get laid. And that’s good enough for me to continue on with this charade. Well, that and the thousand bucks.

A waitress interrupts us, asking if we’re ready to order. While I didn’t recognize Rafferty as a Pittsburgh Titan, she clearly does, as evidenced by how she can’t stop staring at him and stammering when he talks to her. I wonder if that happens a lot. When she finally gives me her attention, I order the eggplant Parmesan, decline anything other than water to drink and thank her with a smile.

When she’s gone, I ask, “So, about this backstory for us… we were apparently dating, split apart for a bit during which time you had sex with Tansy and I was having sex with other guys, and now we’re together again?”

Rafferty had been sipping his water and starts choking, his eyes tearing up as he laughs. “Yeah… I guess that’s the crux of it. I suppose we should get a few facts straight because I bet Tansy’s going to pick at us. I told her we met at the grocery store and you were helping me find something.”

“Quinoa,” I supply brightly. “You were lost in the health food section looking for quinoa and I helped you find it.”

“True love.” He chuckles. “And I asked you out because I was not only charmed by your knowledge of superfoods and grains, but because of your hypnotizing green eyes.”

My skin flushes hot upon that proclamation and a moment of shyness overtakes me. It’s not that people haven’t complimented my eyes before, because they are indeed light-colored and unusual, but never have I received one from a man as gorgeous as Rafferty. Still, I play it out, continuing our fake story. “We started dating but took a break because you were having second thoughts about committing to someone.”

“Why do I have to be the one with second thoughts?” Rafferty asks.

“Have you ever been in a serious relationship before?” I ask.

“No.”

“Have you ever wanted to be in a serious relationship before?”

“No.”

“That’s why,” I say with a firm nod. “But it only took you a few weeks and a one-night stand with Tansy, which I obviously forgave, and you begged me to take you back.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, giving me a sheepish smile. “You’re enjoying this.”

“A little,” I say, holding my forefinger and thumb close together.

“Fine,” he concedes. “That story works, but just know that I didn’t move to Pittsburgh until September, right before training camp.”

“Got it.” I reach for a breadstick and nibble on the end. I’m not a huge bread lover, but again… starved. “So, what’s your background? Where are you from? What’s your family like?”

“I grew up in Calgary, started playing hockey around the time I started walking.”

“Really?” I ask, astounded they start so young.

Rafferty laughs, shaking his head as he takes a breadstick. He waves it at me. “No, not that early, but it was funny watching you fall for that. It wasn’t much longer after I mastered walking that my dad put me in skates. He was a youth team coach, so it was just sort of natural that I’d play. Apparently, I had some talent and now here I am.”

“Parents still back in Calgary?”

“Yeah… my dad is vice president of operations at a bank and my mom is a veterinarian.”

“Very cool. Siblings?”

Rafferty nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, I have a younger sister—Farren—she’s twenty-three. We’re pretty close. What about you?” he asks, turning the conversation back to me.

“I’m a senior at William and Mary but I’m taking a semester break right now,” I say, choosing not to dive into the reasons why. “Staying with my mom and my younger brother, Cooper, who’s thirteen.”

“How old are you?”

“I’ll be twenty-two in January.”

“And your dad?” he presses tentatively, I’m assuming since I didn’t specifically mention him.

“The best thing I can say about him is he successfully deposited healthy sperm into my mom when they were married. He left when Coop was three, I was eleven, and never came back.”

“Well, fuck,” Rafferty mutters, his eyes awash with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

I lift a shoulder. “It is what it is. My mom gave me and Cooper everything we needed, so I can’t say I feel like we missed out on much.”

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Rafferty surmises and he’s not wrong.

“The absolute best,” I murmur, but I don’t want to delve too personally, and besides… I think his need for me to be a fake girlfriend is going to be all about action and not so much an interview by Tansy. “So for this photo shoot, what do you want me to do?”

Rafferty’s smile goes positively wolfish, and admittedly, it causes a fluttering in my belly. “Basically, fawn all over me, act like the sun rises and sets on my shoulders. Stuff like that.”

Laughing, I dip my bread in marinara. “You must do the same with me if this is to be believed.”

“Got it. Plenty of PDA in both directions. Can I kiss you again?” he asks, eyes flashing with humor.

“Sure.” My tone is light, breezy, but damn if my pulse isn’t pumping a little faster at the thought.

We talk more about the details we’ll need for the photo shoot, the little touches that will make our relationship seem real. Our food comes, and we continue to iron out how we’ll behave so we don’t come off as fake. During the meal, we learn more about each other in a rousing game of twenty questions. I know Rafferty’s favorite food is buffalo chicken wings—he can apparently put away twenty in one sitting—and he knows my favorite movie is A Time to Kill . If this hadn’t been a business meeting, which he confirmed he’ll hand over a thousand dollars in cash at the end of the photo shoot, it would have felt like a date. Which is fine. We are trying to be authentically a couple, but I wonder what it says that the nonstop conversation flowed so well, we sat in the restaurant for two solid hours. I realize I’ve spent the evening peeling back layers of a man I thought I’d figured out in minutes, only to find depth and sincerity.

Rafferty pays the bill and walks me to my car, a beat-up Honda Accord with over two hundred thousand miles on it. “Thanks for dinner.”

He grins at me, hand on my car door as I slide into the driver’s seat. “Thanks for being my accomplice in this nefarious plan.”

“My pleasure,” I quip.

“Drive safe,” he says so earnestly, I believe he actually cares about my safety.

“See you Monday. And good luck in Arizona and Denver. I’ll be watching.”

“I’ll play my best then,” he says and closes the door.

I don’t know that I’ve ever watched a full hockey game by myself. I’ve watched some here and there with Cooper who loves the sport, but I know without a doubt, I’m going to watch because I think it’s cool that now I actually know one of the players in real life.

Hell, I had a player’s tongue in my mouth and there’s a good chance it’ll happen again on Monday. That shouldn’t excite me as much as it does, but these days, I’ll take whatever fun I can find.