The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 2)

I’M in my office creating a recovery plan for a player when Rory plunks a tiny crystal dragon in front of me.

He smiles down at me, leaning on the doorframe, eyes warm and soft, and my stomach flutters. “Hartley,” he says by way of greeting.

Fuck, he looks good. Today was the toughest practice of the week, but Rory stands tall and his eyes are bright with energy.

I hate how athletic he is. I hate that he truly is one of the best athletes of his generation. I hate it, and yet I can’t help but marvel at him.

My eyes go to the sparkly little dragon on my desk. “What’s this?”

“You.”

My lips part in denial. “It is not.”

“Sure, it is. You’re my tiny fire-breathing dragon.” I glare at him and he nods, pointing at me. “Exactly like that. Red eyes and everything.”

A laugh bursts out of me and I pick the stupid thing up, studying it.

It’s cute.

“This is dumb,” I tell him as warmth spreads through my chest.

“Hey, Hazel?” Hayden appears in the doorway. “Can I grab one of those bands?”

“Right.” I rummage through my desk to find an extra band so he can do the physio exercises at home and toss one to him. “Need me to run through the exercises again?”

“Nope. I got them.” Hayden’s eyes land on the dragon and he grins. “Do you like it? Miller spent three grand on it.”

My jaw drops and I turn to Rory. “Three thousand dollars?”

He shrugs like it’s nothing.

“Miller, that’s way too much money.”

Hayden chuckles. “I told you, he likes you. Later, lovebirds.”

As he leaves, Rory gives me a strange look. “You know what I make, right?”

Only Rory would be so up-front about being the highest-paid player in the league.

I blink at the little dragon. “This cost more than my monthly rent. You can’t spend that much money on me.” I lower my voice. “Especially because…” I give him a you know gesture.

He arches an eyebrow, smiling. “Because what?”

“Because I’m not really your girlfriend.”

The photo of us from Pippa’s engagement party has been making the rounds online, only adding to our credibility because it was taken before we were public about our relationship. In the photo, Rory smiles down at me with a soft look, like he doesn’t want to let me go. He’s so gone for her, one of the comments said.

His gaze sharpens. “But if you were my girlfriend, it would be okay?”

What? His eyes are so deep blue, so spellbinding, and I don’t like how out of control and wobbly I feel. I’m at work. I should be in control. I should always be in control.

But he joined my yoga class, he told everyone he was my boyfriend, and he seemed to enjoy the class until I asked them to think about what makes them feel loved, and then he looked stricken and lost.

I’ve been thinking about that all week.

“Don’t spend that much money on me.”

He hums, narrowing his eyes at me. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“It’s not.” I’m laughing again. “You’re unhinged, Miller.”

He leans in, bracing his hands on either arm of my chair and bringing his mouth to my ear in that way that makes my pulse jump.

“If you really were my girlfriend, Hartley,” he whispers, his breath sending electric currents over my skin, “there’s no limit to what I would spend on you, so if we want to sell this? Let me.”

I swallow, unsure of what to say.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he adds, straightening up, and my pulse trips.

“What you do late at night in your hotel room is none of my business, Miller.” I give him a cool, disinterested smile despite my stomach doing somersaults.

He’s been thinking about me? How? In a sexy way? Do I like that?

I think I like that.

My brow arches. “Or in McDonald’s bathrooms.”

He snorts. “I’ve never been to McDonald’s.”

Shock drops the disinterest right off my face. “What? Not even when you were a kid? Not even when you’re drunk?”

“I don’t really get drunk, Hartley.”

I stare at him in confusion. “What about the ball pit?”

His chest shakes with laughter, eyes dancing with amusement, and I feel that funny flopping, somersaulty feeling in my stomach again. “The ball pit sounds disgusting.”

I give him a duh look. “Of course it is, but that doesn’t matter when you’re six.”

“Or drunk.” His eyes tease me.

“Or drunk,” I agree.

I wonder what he’d be like drunk, or a little tipsy. I bet he’d be silly, handsy, and sweet. Warmth gathers in my chest before I shove it away.

I can’t be thinking thoughts like that about him.

I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth, and his eyes drop to my mouth.

“Was there something you wanted?” I ask, face going warm.

He blinks as his eyes refocus. “There’s a community skating thing in the arena tonight and Ward is teaching a bunch of kids how to skate.”

“Okay. Good for him.”

Rory grins, and my stomach dips. His smile lifts even higher, and he’s so pretty. He’s strong, broad, and so, so tall, and his hair is thick and a little wavy in a way that makes me itch to drag my fingers through it, but also, he’s pretty.

“And you know I want to look like a responsible, reliable captain.”

I know where this is going. “I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“Hartley, I’m going to teach you how to skate.”