Page 7

7

JAMIE

I still don’t know her name.

And it’s not like that’s the only thing I don’t know. It’s just one of many questions I have. Where does she live, why did she walk instead of drive when it’s hot enough that my thighs are probably burning in the sun, and who was she buying those shoes for?

With a glance down at her feet, I confirm that there’s no chance she’s a men’s size eight. They’re incredibly small, and considering the flopping sole at the back of her old sneaker, I can’t see her choosing a pair of cleats for a replacement.

Whoever she was getting them for is lucky. I don’t say this because I’m the face of the shoes, but they’re pretty great. They’re the ones I wear on the field for every practice and game.

I move to her left side when we reach the street and stay close enough that our arms continuously brush. Every touch sends sparks through my limb as I search her face for any sign that she feels the same thing, but I’m met with a wall of cool nothingness.

If anything, her lack of visible reaction only makes me want to step up my game and draw one out of her.

“Are you going to tell me about this proposal yet, or are we going to be walking in silence the entire time?” she asks stiffly .

“I was waiting for you to make the first move, Bandit.”

“My name is not Bandit,” she reminds me sternly.

“Tell me what it is, then.”

“What do you plan on doing once you have it?”

I steady her with a hand to her back when a guy on a bike rips up beside us, nearly crashing into her. With a glare at his back, I say, “Nothing you don’t want me to.”

Despite shrugging out of my hold, she flicks a look up at me. “Blakely.”

“Blakely,” I repeat, rolling it around in my mouth, tasting it. “I like it.”

“Oh, thank God. I was worried you wouldn’t and I’d have to change it,” she deadpans.

I choke on a laugh, staring down at her with interest I don’t bother hiding. The tip of her nose is red, and for a second, I swear I can make out the slightest curve of her lips before they’re flat again.

“So, I’ve got a proposal for you, Blakely.”

“And what is that?”

The group of people in front of us has stalled at the crosswalk up ahead, and we bypass them completely when Blakely turns right, leading us away from them. My brows tug inward at the new direction.

While I may have been born and raised in Vancouver, there are plenty of spots I haven’t explored yet. The upcoming neighbourhood is one of them. It’s silent over here, like the noise from a few steps back has hit a wall and died out completely.

On instinct, I crowd her even more, keeping on the outside of the sidewalk. If she notices, she doesn’t mention it.

“I’ll be blunt here, Blakely. I need a wife.”

Her head whips in my direction, and I bite back a smile at her bewildered expression. I’ve apparently made a habit of surprising people today because that’s exactly how Mom looked at me this morning.

“You need a wife? ”

“Yes. It’s a long story.”

“So get to telling it.”

I ignore my damp palms and play it cool. “It’s for the Pythons. They’re looking for a bit of a scandal to boost sales, and I’ve been asked to get married to a fan.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m not a fan. And second, I’m no genius, but I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be telling me all that.”

She has a point, but I risk it anyway. “Explain the shoes, then. You just so happened to be buying a pair of cleats with my name and number on their box only a day after breaking into my place?”

I know she isn’t a fan. If she were, she’d be the worst one I’ve ever met, considering how rude she’s been to me. But I’m not about to turn down a chance to tease her.

Her nostrils flare as she clenches her jaw, avoiding looking at me. “The shoes are for my brother. And if I’d known they were yours, maybe I’d have insisted he ask for a different pair.”

“Ouch, Bandit. That shit hurts right here.” I hit the centre of my chest.

“As if.”

Reaching for her hand, I give it a loose tug. She turns to me, staring down at our hands before pulling free of the hold and crossing her arms.

“I know you’re not a fan,” I clarify, bending the brim of my hat. “That’s what makes you perfect for this role. Not to mention, there’s little chance of you falling for me. Am I right?”

Honestly, it’s not that great that she isn’t a fan. Graham expects me to find one, which means if by some shot I got her to agree to this, I’d have to teach her enough to impress him come meeting time.

“There’s zero chance of it.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t say that. I am quite charming when I want to be.”

“You can be as charming as you please, but that doesn’t mean I’ll fall for you. ”

I ignore the part of me that searches for the thrill of proving myself. “Fair enough. So, what do you say?”

“No.” She spins away from me and starts down the sidewalk.

“Thank you. You have no idea how grateful I am—” I double blink at where she used to stand. “Wait, no? Why not?”

“You’re asking me to marry you, Jamie. We’re strangers.”

Jogging to catch up with her, I let my determination take the reins. “We don’t have to be strangers. I told the owner of the team that I need three weeks before I marry anyone for this specific reason. We can use it to get to know one another.”

“And then what? We get married? For how long? And what would that even mean? This is insane.”

“Stop walking and I can answer all of your questions,” I plead.

Surprisingly, she does. With her eyelids blinking heavily, she stares up at me in waiting. I can still feel the burn of the hand that finds her curved, jutted hip.

The neighbourhood behind her is in terrible shape. Buildings with graffiti and peeling siding, gaping cracks in the sidewalk, and overgrown lawns are everywhere. The abundance of chain-linked front yards fit with weeds crawling up through the metal and the beaten-down vehicles lining the curbs spark alarm in my mind.

Blakely doesn’t seem bothered by our surroundings, and that may be even more concerning.

“Are we almost at your place?” I ask before she can speak.

She tongues her cheek. “Yeah, but this is as far as I want you to come.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not stupid enough to bring a guy I barely know to my house.”

“You shouldn’t be walking by yourself in this neighbourhood.”

She leans back on her heel, eyes flashing. “Don’t. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, pretty boy. ”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I’m going to leave,” she threatens, voice tight.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Don’t go.”

Her scowl smooths out. “Give me answers, Jamieson.”

“Jamie. Call me Jamie.”

“Fine. Give me answers, Jamie .”

I shift my weight to my other leg and keep her in my gaze. “We would get married in three weeks, once my brother’s wedding has passed. There are some people I have to introduce you to first, and you could get more answers from them. We’d have the best lawyers out there to make sure there would be no problems when the time comes for a divorce. There would be PR responsibilities and things we’d have to do to please management.”

“I still don’t understand why this is necessary in the first place. Is the public going to believe that you’ve suddenly gotten married? Have you dated that much?”

“It’s necessary because the team is struggling. At least half of our stands are empty when we play, and we’ve become the team that no reporter wants to take the trip to interview. I’m not a huge fan of this either, but if it means that I can keep playing the sport that I love, then I’m prepared to do it. I know you don’t share that loyalty, but I’m asking you to please consider what it would mean if you agreed to help.

“We are strangers, and I know all of this sounds weird as hell. Yes, I’ve dated my fair share of women, but that doesn’t mean I can find just anyone and convince the country that we’re in love. But I think I could do that with you.”

She flicks her eyes between mine, rolling her lips. “What’s so special about me? I’m just some girl who you found snooping in your living room. I don’t think that would be a very convincing leading line to the public.”

I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck while opting out of telling her that from what I’ve gathered already, she’s not just some girl .

“Yeah, maybe not. But I still want it to be you. You’d keep me on my toes, and when I think of finding someone to marry, that’s a quality I’d like them to have. I think we could pull it off, Blakely.”

“I don’t want to sound like a total bitch, but what would I get from this arrangement? Other than my privacy being taken away to be made into a pretty little wife for a player on the BC Pythons.”

“What do you want from it? I have several things I could give you in return for your help. Money isn’t an issue for me, and you’ve seen my place, so you know space isn’t either.”

Her eyes grow wide, worry deepening the green. “You’d want me to live with you?”

“Yes. My wife would live with me, wouldn’t she?”

“I mean, I guess. I wouldn’t be your real wife, though.”

I move closer to her, testing if she’ll leap back like she did in my house. Other than the brief stiffening of her shoulders, she doesn’t retreat.

“That’s the thing, Blakely. On paper, you would be my real wife. If we didn’t live together, it wouldn’t be too hard for someone to discredit us.”

Her throat strains with a swallow. “I need to think about it.”

“How long do you need?”

“I don’t know. A few days, maybe? A week?” she rambles, heaving in a breath.

Pushing her right now will do more damage than good. Strangers or not, that much is obvious. This is a lot to dump on someone.

“How about I give you my number, then? Give me a call or send a text when you have an answer for me,” I suggest.

Her eyes fall to watch as I pull my phone out of my pocket and jot my number into the notes for her to copy.

“I don’t like calling anyone,” she mumbles.

“Text me, then. Anytime. Just please don’t ghost me. ”

“You’re not going to ask for my number so you can make sure I don’t?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to pressure you with this decision. It’s not something simple.”

Her entire demeanour softens, and I mentally raise a fist in celebration. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She pulls a phone out of her jeans pocket and taps the cracked screen before putting my number in. “I meant what I said about you not walking me to my place.”

“Is this your way of telling me to go away?” I ask, still totally into the way she seems to have no filter around me.

It’s refreshing as shit.

“I mean, if you want to stand here in the street after I leave, then that’s your prerogative. But I’ll be going to my place alone.”

“And you’ll text me, right? Regardless of if it’s a yes or no. Although, I’d much prefer yes.”

“I’ll text.”

“Then I’ll go.”

And the next time I’m here, I won’t be leaving without calling her my fiancée.