Page 10 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show

Nate’s lips swerve upward, and his eyes are dancing like he’s two-hours into an open bar. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s not how reality TV dating works.”

“But it, um, might.”

“It gives you good exposure, and between both of us, I think the team management is eager to remind its audience that most of the hockey players are raging heterosexuals, since they’ve somehow managed to end up with four gay men on a team of twenty.”

He laughs, and I hope he doesn’t expect me to laugh back.

Something tightens in my chest. Something I don’t want to dwell on. Something I would prefer not to examine.

The air thins, fewer oxygen molecules floating on each particle. I clench and unclench my fingers, hidden by the conference room table.

A knock sounds on the door, and Nate smiles.

“Ah, they’re here.” He strides toward the door, then opens it, shooting his tough-guy smile, the kind he probably gives people when he tells them he’s absolutely inexperienced at poker, right before he’s going to fleece them.

Sebastian and the petite blonde he was with last night enter the room.

CHAPTER FIVE

Sebastian

I was wrong about Luke not resembling Bryce. The sullen gaze he scours the room with is just like Bryce’s, even if it’s directed at the table and ceiling and view instead of me.

If he didn’t want to be the new Mr. Right, he shouldn’t have applied.

Luke’s agent flashes his fancy agent smile. To be honest, it’s more of a smirk, as if he expects to win a prize for guessing which gender I’d rather have in my bed.

I don’t think he’s used to dealing with many gay men, and I hate the wave of insecurity that crashes against my organs, making me eager to sit down. This might be Boston, this might be a team with two gay couples, but both those couples shocked the world when they came out.

I can only imagine what commercials he’ll leverage Luke’s appearance into.

I’m going to be making Luke Hawthorne even richer than he already is, and he doesn’t even appreciate it. The man should have the decency to at least be grateful.

Someone knocks on the door again, and Nate smiles.

“Daniela, Oskar, come inside.” Nate waves his hand, and a pretty redhead swooshes inside, followed by a young man who looks like he’s straight out of college.

“Daniela is the team’s VP of Publicity,” Nate explains.

“And Oskar is my assistant,” Daniela adds. “He’s familiar with the team.”

Oskar shoots a wobbly smile, and Luke gives him a reassuring nod.

So now he’s being nice?

But then I shouldn’t expect a hockey player to have to be nice to me. This is a short special, I remind myself. I’ll be well-compensated. Everything is fine.

I flash my most professional smile and introduce Ella and myself, though Nate is beaming the most. I hope he explains to Luke the financial ramifications of signing up to do this show soon.

“I look forward to working with you,” I announce to the room, making eye contact with everyone besides Luke.

He slinks further into his seat, as if he thinks it’s possible for his 6-foot two-inch, muscular frame to become one with the expensive leather and German design.

“We at Falcon Productions were delighted to receive an application from Mr. Hawthorne to become the new Mr. Right for ourSeeking Mr. Right: Christmas Edition,” I say.

“You gave us quite a surprise, Luke,” Daniela says.

Luke’s cheeks turn a shade of pink that manages to still look appealing, and I snap open my folder and hope no one notices my trembling fingers. Dull gray light enters from the large floor to ceiling windows. No palm trees wave in the distance. The Charles tumbles before us, a mass of murky green. A few people kayak outside, the hoods of their LL Bean jackets drawn up.