Page 7 of You’re The One (Saints Hockey #2)

SEVEN

A woman adjusts, leaning further into my space.

Where Mia made damn sure no part of us touched when we sat side by side, this woman— shit, what’s her name?

—acts like she’s trying to win an award for most points of contact.

She eases back so that my arm, still slung over the couch, wraps around her by default.

Her crossed legs brush against mine, her foot dragging slowly up and down my calf.

Every woman I’ve met tonight gets bolder. I’ve rotated through numerous “intimate” setups around the mansion, Bodhi directing me to new locations, each one has a new woman waiting. But I’ve ended up where I started—where the one conversation I needed more from got cut short.

I’m hoping the woman sitting next to me now is close to the end of the list of people to meet. I thought I’d feel more energized than I do. Instead, I’m counting down the minutes until I can head to my villa and crash.

“How’s your night going?” she asks.

“I can’t complain…” But I want to.

Not only about my exhaustion, but about the fact Mia and I hadn’t finished talking. I’m reminded of it now that I’m sitting in the same place.

With her, I’m lucky to get a sliver of her attention, and I’m sure our bickering burned tonight’s allocation. I still don’t know if she even wants to be here, and before the night is over, I have to send six women home.

But that’s a problem for later. I have a beautiful woman in front of me, and I’m going to try to give her my full attention.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I caught your name…” I prompt, flashing the smile Mia once called “too wide.” Who even says that?

She knew I was the bachelor. Still, she came. Why?

I force the thoughts down.

Focus.

“… it must be hard to keep track of everyone. This whole thing is a bit overwhelming.”

I only catch the end of what the woman next to me is saying, completely missing her name.

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” I agree, hoping I can figure it out later. “What do you do?” I let my finger trace from her shoulder to her bicep and back.

She giggles. “I’m an actress.”

Huh. All right. I remind myself not to jump to conclusions. This is all new. My shot. Just because she’s the Hollywood type doesn’t mean she’s here for the wrong reasons. And hey, maybe she can give me some acting tips. I might need them.

“Oh, nice, so I’m guessing you live here? In California?” I ask.

“Yep. Hollywood is my home base when I’m not filming.”

“Cool. Cool.”

Why the hell am I being so awkward? I usually click with everyone. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be vibing with her. My leg bounces, trying to shake off whatever this is. “Would I know anything you’ve been in?”

She giggles, again . “Probably not. Aspiring actress is more accurate, but manifestation and all that, right?”

“Definitely.”

I’m not sure I buy into the whole “dream it and it’ll come” thing. From what I’ve seen, it takes work. And even then, things don’t always go the way you hope. Is this going to be one of those times… NO.

Fuck.

Were the cameras always this close? I catch sight of a mic tech and cameraman in my periphery, and suddenly I can’t unsee them.

There are candles flickering on the table in front of us, casting soft, golden light that probably reads romantic on camera. In real life, it feels… fake.

Every “location” has felt that way. And there’s a handful of women whose intentions don’t feel quite right, either.

“So, when was your last relationship?” Her hand lands on my thigh, dragging me back into the moment.

One more point of contact.

I take a sip of my Perrier and reset my smile. I can do this. “I’ve never really had a relationship. What about you?”

“Me neither. I can’t imagine it’s easy for you to want to settle down.” Her lips curl into a teasing smile as her hand slides slowly up and down my thigh.

I can’t blame her for the assumption. I’ve never done much to change the media’s perception of me. Partier. Playboy. Perpetual bachelor. I never really refuted the labels, and I’ve played into them more times than I care to admit. I never had a reason not to.

But I want one.

I think my desire for something real and meaningful has always been there… I’ve just never known how to get it. How to make it work. Most of what I know about love comes from books and movies, not from growing up with a great example of it.

Getting my physical needs met was easy, and I was okay with easy. Until it started being… unsatisfying.

“It wouldn’t be hard. I’m ready.”

She tilts her head, and I know she’s not buying it.

“What made you want to be here?” I ask, mostly to fill the silence.

They make it look so easy on TV. And Ryan and Hannah’s relationship lacks any of this awkwardness. Even when they were fooling themselves with “fake” dating, it still looked effortless.

“You, silly.” She laughs, a little too high-pitched. “I’ve been following you for a while?—”

“Oh, you’re a hockey fan?” I don’t think I’ve ever hoped so hard for a yes in my life, just to have something to connect on.

“Not really. I like all sports.” She twirls a piece of bleach-blonde hair around one manicured finger. “I guess I just have a thing for athletes. My ex played for the Los Angeles…” She pauses, searching for the name. “…whichever team. James Rota. You’ve heard of him?”

So much for not dating. Now we’re name-dropping NBA exes? Is she a jersey chaser?

I nod and take another sip of my water.

The rest of our conversation follows the same pattern: shallow questions met with answers that add to the nagging feeling in my gut.

Am I in over my head?

I try to stay open-minded, but the longer we talk, the more worried I become. Why did I think this would be any different from all those dead-end dates this summer?

Christ, I’m turning into Volkov. Or Mia’s shit attitude is rubbing off on me…

My mind drifts in a direction I definitely do not approve of, so I force myself back to the present—back to the woman in front of me.

“I really want to kiss you,” she whispers, her hand gliding from my thigh to my chest, apparently not picking up on any of my hesitation.

I expected this. There are always a few first kisses on day one. I had my money on Victoria, but she’s playing a game I don’t fully understand yet. And she’s not the only one. I’ve had one-on-one time with nearly everyone tonight and all I feel is confused.

Bodhi’s great at logistics, but right now, I feel like I need something more. A relationship guide, maybe?

I have to figure out who’s actually here for the right reasons, who I can trust, and who’s just chasing their fifteen minutes of fame.

Whatever her name is? Yeah… I’m starting to think she falls into that last category. Turns out Mia’s not the only one not looking for love.

I could use some help with this.

A guide. A mentor. Someone to point me in the right direction.

A matchmaker?

That’s it.

My gaze drifts across the patio and lands on Bodhi, who’s nodding encouragingly. Presumably about kissing this girl, not about my inner thoughts.

A kiss makes sense. But with twenty-three other women in the mix—and my best friend’s little sister lurking in the back of my mind—it just doesn’t feel right.

Still, maybe this is a rip-the-bandage-off moment?

I lean in slightly, placing a hand on her knee, my thumb brushing over her smooth skin in slow, lazy strokes.

Trying to feel something. Anything.

Maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I’ve put too much pressure on myself.

Before I can decide, she makes the move. Her lips press to mine, firm and eager.

If I’d been hoping it might spark something, I would’ve been let down. I pull back, meeting her gaze.

“Wow,” she breathes.

Wow is right. But I have a feeling we’re not using it the same way.

And that seals it— I need help.

“I can’t wait to see where this connection leads us,” she adds, her voice soft.

I already know where it’s headed. A limo ride. Forced goodbyes. A soundbite about “putting herself out there.”

And then she’ll be gone.

But I refuse to let a couple of bad apples ruin this for me. My one is here. I know it.

And I think I’ve come up with the perfect solution to help me find her, which is why I’m eager to wrap this first night up and put my plan into motion.

She’s going to be thrilled with her new assignment. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I make the offer.

Ha, two can play this game, la mia fiamma.