Page 22 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie (Second Chance Hockey Players #2)

I shake my head, taking a bite of a pastry. “Unbelievable. I’m here, being the best fake boyfriend, you’ve ever had, and this is the thanks I get?”

She laughs, reaching for another dessert. “Oh, trust me. You’ll be compensated.”

I arch a brow. “How so?”

She leans in slightly, lowering her voice just enough. “Well, for starters, you get to be seen with me tonight, and everyone gets to see my incredibly handsome, ridiculously talented fake boyfriend.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “So, you admit I’m handsome and talented?”

"That was for the sake of the act. Don’t let it go to your head."

I chuckle, stepping closer, lowering my voice just enough to make her spine straighten. "Too late."

She’s about to fire back with something sassy when I notice the slightest shift in her expression.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nathan making their way toward us.

Here we go.

Thinking fast, I lean in and murmur, "Quick - laugh like I just said something hilarious."

Her brows knit together. "What…?"

I wink. "C’mon, help me out. Pretend I’m funny."

She opens her mouth, probably to argue, but I add, “I was going to say something smooth, but all I’ve got is: Why don’t skeletons fight each other?”

She blinks. “What?”

“They don’t have the guts.”

For a second, there’s just silence. Then, she snorts. Actually snorts. And that sets her off into full-blown laughter, shoulders shaking as she covers her mouth.

Grinning, I take advantage of the moment, lifting her hand and pressing a slow, exaggerated kiss to her knuckles. “See?” I murmur…, “Teamwork.”

Her laughter softens, but her eyes are bright. “That was terrible.”

“Terribly effective,” I shot back. “And by the way, you have frosting on your lip,” I say casually.

She frowns, dabbing at the wrong side. “Where?”

I shake my head. “Other side.”

She tries again, but she still misses it.

With a low chuckle, I reach up and gently swipe my thumb over the corner of her mouth, erasing the smudge of frosting. Before she can react, I lick it off my thumb.

Her breath hitches.

Her cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink.

Yeah. That’s a reaction I was expecting.

And the best part? Her ex is standing beside us, watching.

Nathan clears his throat, and Whitney, ever the picture of grace, turns with a bright, easy smile. “Hi, Nathan!”

His gaze flickers between us -lingering a second too long on the way my hand rests possessively on her waist. “Whitney.” A pause. Then, with a small, forced smile, “Didn’t think you’d come.”

She tilts her head, voice light. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Her smile widens, dripping with sincerity. “Congratulations on your engagement. Wishing you and Rhea lots of happiness.”

Nathan’s jaw ticks. “Thanks,” he says, then motions toward me. “And this is?”

Before Whitney can answer, I extend my hand. “Blake.” A beat. Then I smirk. “Her boyfriend.”

Nathan takes it, squeezing just a little too hard - like I’m supposed to be intimidated. I meet his grip with ease, keeping my expression casual.

Nathan’s jaw twitches. “Right.”

Whitney, still perfectly composed, adds, “Oh, and he’s a hockey player. I remember you saying I’ll never get anyone better than you, look-wise and workwise, but then, here he is in the flesh.”

One of the women nearby perks up. “Ohhh. You go, girl,” she murmurs, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Whitney laughs and Nathan is not amused.

His gaze lingers on me like he’s sizing me up. “So, what’s it like dating Whitney? She’s... a sweetheart, yet a handful.”

I slide my arm fully around her waist, pulling her closer. “Yeah,” I say easily, “but I like a challenge.”

Nathan’s smirk falters. Good.

His mouth opens - probably to say something unnecessary - but before he can, a delicate hand rests on his arm.

Rhea.

She’s stunning, I’ll give her that. The kind of woman who fits into events like this like she was designed for them. “Nathan, they need you for a moment,” she says smoothly before turning to Whitney. “It was nice seeing you. Enjoy the party.”

Whitney nods, still smiling. “You too. Congrats again.”

Nathan hesitates for half a second before letting Rhea pull him away.

I exhale through my nose. “Well, that was fun.”

She grins. “You handled yourself well, hockey star.”

I lean in, just enough to brush my lips against her ear. “You love watching me handle myself. Wanna dance, miss?”

Whitney rolls her eyes, but she’s laughing as she nudges me toward the dance floor.

****

Dancing with Whitney is… dangerous.

She fits against me too perfectly, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders, my palm pressed against the small of her back.

My hand finds the curve of her hip, and when she moves, swaying to the beat, my grip tightens on instinct.

She smells like vanilla and something fresh, like summer mornings and trouble.

"This is supposed to be for show," she murmurs, glancing up at me.

"Sure," I say, sliding my hand a little lower. "Just playing my part."

"You seem to be enjoying this way too much."

I lean in, lips brushing her temple. "Can’t help it when you keep looking at me like that."

"I’m not looking at you like anything."

"Keep lying to yourself, sweetheart."

Whitney rolls her eyes but lets her head rest against my chest for a beat. My heart? Stupidly betraying me. Thumping loud enough she has to hear it. Being this close again - it’s nostalgia wrapped in temptation, and I can’t decide if I want to pull back or pull her in closer.

She pulls back just enough to look at me and my gaze drops to her lips, and it’s a mistake - because I want…

"You keep looking at me like that," I say slowly, "and I’m not gonna be able to keep up this act."

Her eyes flick to mine, something flickering there - heat, hesitation, something else neither of us wants to name.

But before I can say or do something reckless, the song ends and I lead her off the dance floor. At that exact moment, my phone rang.

“I need to take this.”

Whitney steps away, smoothing a hand down her dress like she’s shaking off the moment. “Don’t get lost.”

I chuckle under my breath as I head outside.

“Daddy!”

A slow, easy smile tugs at my lips. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi, Daddy!” Mia chimes in, her voice sleepy but excited.

“Are you both being good?”

“Uh-huh. Uncle Keith let us stay up late,” Mia whispers conspiratorially.

I shake my head. “Did he now?”

“Are you coming home soon?” Nico asks.

“Tomorrow,” I say. “With Whitney.”

They both cheer.

After a few more goodnight echoes, I hang up, still smiling.

Then I walk back inside - just in time to see Nathan standing way too close to Whitney.

My mood shifts instantly.

I cross the room in a few strides, sliding a hand to the small of her back as I step in beside her.

Nathan’s gaze flicks to mine.

I smile - sharp, pointed. “Everything okay here?”

Whitney turns smoothly. “Blake.”

Nathan watches the way my hand rests on her waist, his lips pressing into a thin line. “We were just catching up.”

I nod, slowly. “Right. See, the thing is, Whitney doesn’t entertain old news. Besides, you’re engaged already. You don’t want to start a rumor about you talking alone with your ex, right?”

Whitney’s eyes flick to me, amusement flashing in them.

Nathan, though, clenches his jaw. I see the muscle twitch as he mutters something under his breath and walks away.

Without looking away, I pull Whitney closer, the move easy, natural - like second nature. Her breath hitches. She starts to say something - maybe a protest—but I don’t give her the chance.

“I’m sorry but I have to…, need to,” I say before pressing my lips on hers.

Soft, warm, familiar.

She gasps against my mouth, just enough for me to deepen it. Her fingers curl into my shirt, and just like that, everything shifts.

The show. The act. The reason we’re even doing this.

It all blurs.

Because the way she tastes - champagne and something addictive - reminds me of five years ago. And the way she holds on, just for a second too long, tells me maybe she also remembers.

God, she tastes like everything I didn’t know I missed.

When I finally break the kiss, my heart’s pounding like I just sprinted a rink.

Her eyes - wide, dazed, - meet mine. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something.

But I already know.

This was supposed to be a game.

So why the hell does it feel like I just lost?