Page 28 of Skating and Fake Dating (Love in Maple Falls #4)

CARSON

T he day of the Ice Breakers inaugural bash comes with rain that gives way to a dry sky and damp cement by evening.

I adjust my bowtie for the third time, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The black-tie season kickoff party is the first occasion Bailey and I will be “officially” out as a couple in front of my teammates and management. I’m more nervous than I’ve been before playoff games.

I’m fully settled in the SkyBnB rental, have my truck back, my belongings, and am getting in the groove with the new team.

Asher and I are housemates—Bailey has been helping him as he adjusts due to his last-minute trade to the Ice Breakers, so I’ve been having some solid bro bonding time with the defenseman, too.

So why am I jittery?

Is it because I don’t want to get things wrong with Bailey, or because I’d rather not be exposed as a fraud—a guy no one truly loves, so I have to fake a relationship?

For years, I was on top of the world, knowing my future was with Charlene.

When she dumped me, I descended into the depths of despair.

Now, I’ve dug my way out of a month of agony, and am afraid of anyone finding out how much I’ve struggled—that my carefully stitched-together appearance hides stained sweatpants and a guy in need of a shave.

But I’m not him anymore. I can’t be. Someone as smart and observant as Bailey would see through it, so where does that leave me? Leave us?

Late. If I don’t get in the truck now, I’ll be late to pick her up. The drive to her house is short, but I feel like I’ve been chewing on a lamp plug while it’s still in the socket.

I haven’t rolled up to a woman’s house dressed in a tux since prom night.

Charlene insisted our colors coordinated, made me wait over an hour in her parents’ living room, causing us to miss the dinner reservation I had to pay extra to hold, and was generally bossy, never quite satisfied with my efforts.

I convinced myself she was the one, but having gotten to know Bailey and seeing the contrast, I was dead wrong.

Bailey is different in the best of ways. I had no idea what I was missing. It’s time for me to forget about my ex, but since Bailey and I are only pretending until after the holidays, I can’t let myself think she’s the one.

When I arrive at the colonial, the instant the door opens, all the air leaves my lungs along with my thoughts.

It was one thing to see her dressed up for her cousin’s wedding, but this is for me.

For us. Bailey stands there in a midnight blue gown that makes her eyes look like golden, glittering stars.

Her hair is swept up, revealing the elegant curve of her neck.

A delicate gold necklace sits between her collarbones.

She’s holding a sparkly clutch—though I have no doubt she’d find a way to smuggle in maple syrup if necessary—and her small smile makes me wonder if she’s been as nervous as me.

“Too much?” she asks, misinterpreting my silence.

“Words,” I blurt, reminding myself to use them.

Her expression shifts from confusion and concern to amusement.

“You’re beautiful, Blondie. ”

A blush colors her cheeks. “And you are rather handsome yourself, Bama.”

I catch her hand and say, “Thank you for, uh—” But I can’t finish the sentence.

She blinks a few times as if waiting for me to continue or urging me not to blow our cover, I can’t be sure.

I want to thank her for helping me forget the past and my broken heart and for showing me that muscles can heal, even the tricky ones in the chest, but before I can do that, her mother appears, cell phone camera aloft.

“Photos. I need a picture of you two. Bailey didn’t have a date to prom, so this is the next best thing,” Taffy says in her obnoxiously obtuse way, not realizing her comment is hurtful. I’m a dude and even I’m aware of that.

Bailey winces. “Do we really need the reminder?”

“Sure we do. If you’d gone to your senior prom, this wouldn’t be so special.” Taffy fiddles with the shoulder strap of her daughter’s dress.

But what I’m wondering is why would Bailey ask that question if this were actually fake. Why would I be nervous? She was right. The lines have blurred. And I’m not sure what that means.

While Taffy fusses with Bailey’s hair, Mr. Porter takes me aside, giving me a flash of déjà vu from when Nanna had a private word with me. However, this time, I brace myself for a stiff conversation about respecting Bailey tonight.

Phil asks, “What are your intentions?”

I don’t think before I reply—this time the words come easily. “I care a lot about your daughter. She’s a special woman. I want to offer her the stability she deserves.”

“But your life is in constant motion. I have a hunch that after her little ‘experiment’ in the city, she’ll be back here. She’s a small-town girl. You’re often on the road. You can’t ask her to change who she is.”

“I’d never do that because I love who she is.” I only hear what I’m saying when these words present themselves from somewhere deep inside and I can’t tell whether I’m falling or flying.

I try to give Mr. Porter an assuring smile, but I’m a bit gobsmacked myself. Do I want a real future with Bailey? Yeah. I think I do.

After more fussing and a long goodbye, once we are in the car, she lets out a long breath. “We survived.”

I squeeze the top of her hand. “And now the fun can begin!” Who invited old Carson—the version of me that was always up for a good time? In any case, he’s welcome.

Bailey goes on to tell me about preparations for the Maple Fest as we drive over to the arena, which has been transformed into an event space and ballroom for tonight—I’d tried to get some extra ice time, but they booted me.

The moment we get out of my truck, Bailey stops short as if a bull charges in our direction—or it could be the reality of the affair as blue and white spotlights sweep the glowing facility. Or maybe that’s just me.

She fidgets with the clasp of her purse. “About tonight ... what if I say something stupid about maple syrup? Or spill my drink on the team owner’s wife? Or call your coach by the wrong name?” She lowers her voice, “Or expose us?”

Meeting her soft gaze, illuminated by the place where I spend most of my time, certainty replaces the momentary worry that threatened to shoot me down. “If that happens, we’ll laugh about it later.”

Her face scrunches up.

I take her hand. “Just be yourself.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Blondie, there’s no one I’d rather be here with.”

Clément calls from across the parking lot and waves. I wink at Bailey, wanting her to know that we’ll survive this together, too.

“Hey, buddy!” I call, surprised to see he’s here solo—kind of wild because the guy is the definition of French romance. Women regularly swoon over his accent.

The ballroom of the sports facility is transformed for the evening with ice sculptures and team colors everywhere. As we enter, heads turn. Bailey tenses beside me.

“Carson!” Lucian bounds over with a plate of hors d’oeuvres and an assortment of confections in hand, like he can’t decide whether he’s in the mood for sweet or savory. “About time you showed up. This must be the famous Bailey!”

“Famous?” she squeaks.

Lips curved into a sly grin, he says, “Carson hasn’t shut up about you. Bailey this, Bailey that. Bailey is trying to save the town. Bailey and her amazing maple syrup. I was beginning to think he’d invented you.”

She giggles and my skin turns as pink as the frosting on Lucian’s cupcake.

Cade pops in and says, “We thought he had an imaginary friend and called you Bogus Bailey.”

Her expression wavers. “Mmm. Cupcakes. Yum. I think my friend Neesha made them for the occasion. Maybe I’ll go find one …

or her, if she’s here.” She looks around as if eager for a friendly face or an exit rather than dessert.

Wherever Bailey goes in town, she seems to know everyone and if not, she makes instant friends.

My voice softer than I expect, I say, “No, she’s very, very real.”

And so is the intense desire to protect her from any form of conversation that would make her doubt that.

She looks up at me as a smile blooms on her face as if those were the magic words. Swallowing, she says, “Nope. This isn’t a dream. Pinch me now.”

More teammates and their partners gather around, curious about the woman who’s apparently captured my heart.

Despite her initial reluctance, Bailey, to my surprise and admiration, rises to the occasion.

She laughs at their jokes, asks thoughtful questions, and even teases me about my pre-game superstitions.

Wearing an affectionate smile, she says, “On game days, from the moment Carson wakes up until he gets to the locker room, he wears the baseball hat for his high school team. Then he doesn’t let his hockey stick touch the ground until he’s on the ice. It’s adorable.”

“Nothing I do is adorable.” But how did she notice those details about me? The fact that she did touches something hidden inside and locked away.

She lifts onto her toes and whispers in my ear, setting my entire body ablaze. “I also noticed your special pre-game pillowcase.”

Covering up that I’m suddenly overcome with surprise and want, I cough lightly and then protest, “It’s strategic.”

The guys are smiling, Bailey is smiling, and fine, so am I.

Gabe is here, grinning too, but it’s a sly one like we’re in cahoots. Catching my eye, he leans in so only I can hear and says, “Looks like everyone took the fake girlfriend bait.”

Her maple-blonde hair shines and her laugh at something someone says reaches my ears a few paces away as she gathers with some of the women who’re here with my teammates—they must be local because she seems to already know them.

Or they have a secret club. Bailey did mention that Mary-Ellen McCluskey has a special hockey game watch party for the Ice Breakers.

To Gabe, myself, or whoever is listening, I say, “She’s amazing. Everyone loves her.”

Maybe I do too. I’m not sure whether I’ve said that out loud. But I did admit as much to her father. I try to read Gabe’s expression, but he’s glancing at his phone.

I’m not sure I’m acting anymore … or if I ever was.

Gabe elbows me. “Hey, make sure you don’t confuse make-believe with reality. We have a big season ahead. Need you focused and at the top of your game. ”

There has not been a single moment all evening when I’ve not wanted Bailey by my side. When she isn’t, I physically crave her. Being apart from her is like getting a plate of pancakes without syrup. The longing is met as she glides toward us, all smiles.

Reluctantly, I introduce her to Gabe.

Winking, he says, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot tonight.” She glances at me with a question in those pretty, innocent, hazel eyes.

I’m not going to say that Gabe is a snake, but he wouldn’t hesitate to get her alone in a quiet corner or blab about just how fake, fake, fake this is.

Only, I’m not sure that’s true and am not ready to say so, especially with the direction Gabe wants to take my career—the “big leagues” as he calls it, even though this isn’t baseball.

In fact, I believe he’s the one who originally dubbed me the ‘Gentleman Wingman,’ ran with it, and wants to capitalize on my Southern charm.

“We have big things coming for our big boy. Endorsement opportunities, including one from a hydration drink that’ll mean he’ll have to—” He makes robot arms and sort of dances in the dorkiest possible way while wearing a slick smile.

“Ditch the small-town simplicity, if you know what I mean, and upgrade to the big time.”

Bailey’s laugh is nervous and she tucks a phantom piece of hair behind her ear.

Gabe continues, “I saw your local news article, ‘Puck-er Up: Local Girl Melts Ice Around Hockey Star’s Heart.’ I’m not so sure you’re a girl—” He waggles his eyebrows, then lowers his voice, “And we both know he isn’t going to last, but you just keep me in mind when this little publicity stunt is over and you’re available. ”

The words hit close to home, but I also want to hit Gabe in the back of the head with my hockey stick … or give him a ma tching set of black eyes for looking at Bailey like she’s available. Like she isn’t mine.

I won’t be renewing my contract with him when our current agreement expires. My fist clenches and then loosens as I think back to the moment with Bailey on the hilltop when she said two simple yet powerful words. I’m yours .

If only that were true.

But I’ll still protect her from smarmy guys like Gabe.