“Of course I do, silly!” She hugs my arm. “Then we can catch up!”
I’m still trying to place her, but that’s not always easy. I’m embarrassed to admit that in the time I’ve been playing professional hockey in Chicago, there were a couple of years where I did a lot of fucking around. Literally. I screwed pretty much any bunny who dropped into my lap. Until the shit hit the fan.
I took a break from the bunnies after I mistook a case of jock itch for crabs—which resulted in the nickname Crabby for the better part of that season, thanks to my asshole teammates. But every once in a while, I run into one of the women I slept with during my partying days. It’s always awkward. There were a lot of women in a very short span of time. Sometimes more than one at a time. It was bad. I’m not proud.
And then there was that fake pregnancy blackmail—
Oh hell no. Now I remember exactly who this woman is. She’s the blackmailer. It was literally the weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced. She took plaster casts of her sister’s growing baby belly every couple of weeks and then stuck them under her shirt and posted pictures online, tagging me in every single one. Until my lawyer got involved. The jock itch incident happened right around that time too. Thus ending my puck-bunny days for good.
“How’ve you been? What’re you up to? You look great! What are you doing in Seattle? Wait, I already asked that last question!”
There is no way I’m going to be able to sit next to her for five hours and stay sober.
When the woman who’s supposed to be beside me finally boards the plane, my extra enthusiastic companion takes control of the seat situation. She hugs my arm and presses her cheek against my shoulder, her extra wide smile matching her extra wide eyes. I think she’s going for innocent, but she really just looks bent.
“Hiiiii!” she says to the middle-aged woman. “So I hope you don’t mind, but my boyfriend booked our seats, and he couldn’t get ones beside each other. We’re celebrating our one-year anniversary, and it’s the first time we’ve flown first class.” She crinkles her nose. It makes her look odd. She’s also disturbingly convincing in her lie. “Would you mind trading seats with me so we can be together?” She bats her lashes.
I try to make eye contact with the woman, but she’s too focused on the blackmailer to notice my panicked expression. “Aw. Aren’t you two sweet? Of course I can trade seats with you.”
“Thank youuuuu! I’m seat 3C.”
The lady moves to the row behind us. Awesome. Now I have no escape.
Sissy—whose name I finally remembered—doesn’t stop talking all through takeoff. Once we’re in the air, I order scotch on the rocks and make it a double. I’m going to need a lot of alcohol to survive this.
About a half hour after takeoff, she leans in, her mouth at my ear and her hand on my leg. She’s way too close to my junk to be appropriate. I try to move her hand, but she digs her nails in. “I need to use the bathroom. Wanna meet me in there?”
“Uh, I hardly fit in there on my own, let alone with another person.”
“Maybe I should ask for blankets instead.” She gives me an exaggerated wink.
I drop my voice to a whisper. “You do remember how you pretended to be pregnant and said it was mine. All over social media.”
She throws her head back and laughs loudly. “Oh my God! Rook, you are sooooo funny! That was just a joke!”
This chick is legit out there. “You posted about it for two months.”
“Well, you stopped answering my messages, and for like a month I thought I might actually be pregnant.”
“We used a condom.”
“Yeah, but there’s this drink my sister had, and I tried it too.” She waves her hand around. “Anyway. It didn’t work for me like it did for her, which is too bad because I think we’d make pretty babies together.” She nuzzles my biceps again. “We could try again if you’re staying in Seattle for a while.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Because you’re certifiable. “I’m in a relationship,” I lie.
“Oh.” She stops hugging my arm. “Really? I haven’t seen you with anyone, and I follow all your social media accounts. I had to set up all new ones after you blocked me.” She seems annoyed by this.
“It’s pretty new.”
“We’re in another time zone, so it technically wouldn’t be cheating, right? Or you could just come in a cup for me if you think it’s a big deal. They can last a couple of days, as long as they don’t dry out.”
I spend the next several hours fighting off her advances. As far as flights go, this is the worst. I’d take turbulence and a crying infant over Sissy. The torture is prolonged when the pilot says we have to circle the airfield for another hour before landing.
Sissy rushes along beside me when we finally get off the plane. She’s still trying to persuade me that being in another time zone would make cheating okay. She follows me all the way to the gate and then wraps herself around me like an octopus.
Eventually security steps in, and she’s forced to let go of me. The whole situation reinforces my pledge to never sleep with another bunny, no matter how hot she is.
CHAPTER 3
SAFETY CUDDLES
Rook
I manage to make my connecting flight to Anchorage despite our delayed landing. I’m grateful that the person next to me is a suit this time. I settle into my seat—it’s an aisle instead of a window, which isn’t my preference, but I’ll survive as long as I don’t have a crazy bunny next to me.
I stuff my earbuds in and cue up a movie on my entertainment console. After the last flight, I deserve three hours of brain candy.
Just as I settle on an action flick, a body lands in my lap. At first, I think I’m being accosted—yet again. It’s not unusual for women to literally throw themselves at me. Typically I’m not on a plane, though, but considering my last flight I shouldn’t be surprised by anything right now. “What the—”
“I’m so sorry!” says the voice attached to the body in my lap. She scrambles to right herself but jerks back, gagging, her tidal wave of silky, dark hair slapping me in the face. It smells like mint and cucumber, which would be nice if it weren’t in my mouth.
She grabs my shirt with one hand and catches my earbuds, yanking them free. The other hand curls under the fabric wrapped tightly around her throat. She’s sprawled across my lap, legs hanging over the armrest, face level with mine. She’s totally blocking the aisle, making it impossible for anyone to get by and creating quite the spectacle. “My scarf is caught,” she rasps. “Oh my God. I’m choking myself. I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.” The more she struggles, the more the scarf tightens, which in turn causes her to flail.
I slide a supporting arm behind her. “Stay still for a sec.”
She freezes, still gripping my shirt, eyes wide with panic. I turn my head to the side and lean forward. Her lips connect with my cheek.
“Oh!” She tries to turn away, but she really is stuck, so her nose ends up in my ear and her lips are still pressed against my jaw.
“Just give me a few more seconds, and you’ll be free.” She exhales heavily against my jaw, warm breath making my skin prickle. I lift her carry-on and use my foot to pull the scarf free from the wheel.
She loosens the fabric around her throat, dragging in a long, deep breath. “Thank you. So much. Choking to death on an attractive man’s lap really isn’t the way I wanted to go.” She squeezes her eyes shut and pushes to a stand. “I’m so sorry.”
She keeps her gaze averted as she gathers up the scarf that never seems to end. It gives me time to check her out. Well, shit. This woman is hot. Like pour a gallon of gasoline on me and light me on fire hot. She has long dark hair, a shade of brown so deep it’s nearly black. Her eyes are the color of coffee or chocolate—something with caffeine in it. Something that would amp me up. And her face . . . daaaaamn. High cheekbones, full lips, a dainty nose, arched brows, thi
ck lashes.
I take in the rest of the package, which gives me pause because her outfit is just . . . out there. She’s wearing a full-on parka, hiding her figure, but based on her legs I’m thinking she’s probably slender. That’s a guess, though, with all the layers she has going on. And that scarf has to be a mile long with how many times she winds it around her neck, hence the near strangulation.
Her little wardrobe malfunction has resulted in a line of people waiting to board, so she rushes down the aisle, throwing another “So sorry” over her shoulder as she disappears into coach.
I’m almost disappointed. Almost, but not quite. I plug my earbuds back in and veg out to movies for the next three hours.
Once I land in Anchorage, I call my brother. He’s meeting me here so we can get on the putt-putt plane to Kodiak Island. It’s been a family ritual since I was a teenager. Even though our dad died two years ago, Kyle and I still carry on this tradition where we spend a few weeks fishing in Alaska. It is my favorite part of off-season and the thing I look forward to the most every year, even without my dad.
“RJ, hey, bro, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for hours.” He sounds off—worried, maybe.
“I didn’t bother connecting to Wi-Fi on the plane. Where are you? Is everything okay?”
“It’s Joy.” He coughs, like he’s trying to hold back emotions.
I drop into the closest chair. “Is she okay?” Joy is his pregnant wife. I’m aware that there’s no way Kyle is coming with me for three weeks to hang out in Alaska next year. Not with a new kid. He might get a long weekend, but this is the last trip we’re supposed to take together for a few years, especially if one kid leads to more.
“She’s been diagnosed with gestational diabetes. The doctors have put her on bed rest.”
That explains the waver in his voice. I sit up straighter, a tight feeling in the pit of my stomach, since we lost our dad to complications from diabetes. “What does that mean? Is she going to be okay? Is the baby all right?”
“It’s fine. She’s fine. The baby’s fine.” He sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself, not me. “She just needs to be monitored. The doctor said it’s not uncommon. It’s not like what Dad had—it’s a lot different.”
I relax a little. “Okay, that’s good. Do you want me to come to LA?”
“No. You don’t need to do that. We’re okay. Mom and Stevie are talking about bringing Stevie’s stuff out here now instead of later in the summer.” Our younger sister is working on her master’s and decided out west is where she wanted to be, away from the cold winters.
“Mom and Stevie are coming? Are you sure I shouldn’t too?”
“Positive. You know how Mom is—as soon as she heard bed rest, she was already packing. It sounds a lot more serious than it is, but I can’t come to Alaska. I don’t want to leave Joy right now, and being that far from her really isn’t an option. I’m sorry, RJ, I know how much you were looking forward to this.” He sounds torn, which I don’t want, not when Joy is experiencing complications.
I conceal my disappointment. “You don’t have to apologize. I get it. Joy and the baby are priority number one.”
“If you don’t want to go on your own, you can come here.”
I consider the offer. I love my brother. We’re pretty close, even though we live thousands of miles apart, but I need this vacation. I need this time away from the media and the constant demands, time when there aren’t any expectations placed on me. I need to be in the one place I feel close to my dad. More than anything else, I crave the peace and solitude I find in Alaska and the escape from the circus my life has become. Last year our team captain retired, and I stepped into the role. He was well loved by the team and a legend in the sport, so I’ve had big shoes to fill.
“Thanks, Kyle, but I’m gonna catch some salmon, grow a massive beard, and avoid showering for four days at a time.”
He laughs. “I figured you’d say that. If I can come out later in the month, I’ll call. Well, I’ll call anyway. Touch base every few days so I can make sure you haven’t been eaten by a bear—and I’ll keep you updated on things here.”
The reception can be pretty spotty where we stay, and I like it that way. I want the time to disconnect and just be a human, not an NHL team captain. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle the bears—you just take care of your family. I’ll send pictures.”
We say our goodbyes, and I drop my head against the wall. It sucks that my brother can’t be here, but I still want the time at the cabin, even if I have to do it on my own.
Half an hour later, I carry my bag out to the Cessna. The first time I ever flew on a plane that small, I tossed my cookies, so I’ve learned to refrain from drinking on the flight from Seattle to Anchorage.
I’m last in line on this tiny eight-seater, which is fine. It’s a short flight, and almost every seat has a spectacular window view. Except the ones at the back—they’re a little tight for space.
I have to duck and turn sideways to get on the plane. It comes with being over six feet and more than two hundred pounds. It’s a full flight, and there’s only one seat left . . . at the very back of the plane. I shimmy down the narrow aisle. Tucked into the corner, clutching a purse, is the same dark-haired woman who fell into my lap on the previous flight. Well, now, this should be interesting.
She glances away from the window, her nervous smile falling as her eyes go wide. Her cheeks flush, and she lifts a hand to cover her mouth. “Oh no.”
I grin and fight a chuckle as I take the seat beside her. It’s actually like one of those bench seats you’d find on a school bus, with about as much room.
She slides closer to the window, trying to make more space for me. She drops her hand. “I’m so sorry I fell on you.”
I flash her a grin and a wink. “That was the most exciting part of this trip so far, so don’t worry about it.”
“I didn’t mean to kiss you. I mean your cheek.” Hers grow redder. “Oh my God, Lainey, just shut up and leave the poor man alone,” she mutters and ducks her head.
“It’s really okay. Shit happens, right?”
She peeks back up at me, a tiny smile pulling up the right side of her mouth.
I hold out a hand. “I’m RJ.”
I don’t know why I give her that name. My dad called me that, and my brother and sister still do, but that’s it. Everyone else calls me Rook or Rookie. Maybe because she doesn’t seem to know who I am, and I don’t want her to find out? Oh well, too late now.
She slips her mitten-covered hand into mine, then makes a face. Pulling off her mitt, she tries again. Her hand is warm and a little damp—and much smaller than mine—but her grip is firm. She gives me a solid shake. “I’m Lainey.”
“Hi, Lainey.”
“Hi, RJ.” Her eyes stay locked on mine for a few seconds. Still no hint of recognition, which is fantastic.
“So what brings you to Alaska?” I ask, buckling myself in.
Her eyes light up. “Well, I’m currently working on my master’s thesis, and my focus is aquatic animals. I’m fascinated by dolphins and whales, so I’m spending six weeks out here to study them.”
“A master’s thesis, huh? You must be pretty smart.”
She shrugs. “I just like learning a lot. This is my third master’s.”
“Your third? How old are you?” She doesn’t look old enough to be pursuing a first master’s, let alone a third. Although her outfit might be to blame for that.
“Twenty-five.”
“And this is your third thesis?”
She bites her bottom lip and nods. “Mm-hmm. I love learning new things, and I keep getting full scholarships, so here I am. I have a master’s in sex therapy and another one in geology. This one is going to be in marine biology. Specifically, ocean mammals. I thought it would be interesting to study the mating patterns of dolphins versus whales.”
“How do those go together?”
She shrugs. “They don’t, really. I ju
st have a lot of different interests. For instance, did you know dolphins mate not just for reproduction but also pleasure, like humans?”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.” But now I’m thinking about sex and how I haven’t had it in a long time.
“Oh yes, they’re very sexually active. And some people think they mate for life, like lobsters, but they don’t. They take several partners. Just like some humans do too, although in Western society we’re sociologically conditioned to choose one mate and stick with them, unlike dolphins. They just like to get it on because it’s fun.”
She bites the tip of her finger. “I’m sorry, I get carried away. I’ve been doing a lot of reading in preparation for this trip, and my brain is full of so many facts, sometimes they just come out of my mouth. I can stop talking if you’d like.” She motions to the phone in my hands with the earbuds wrapped around it.
I slip it into my pocket. “Nah, you’re more interesting than anything I could listen to on there.”
Her smile widens, and then she ducks her head again, blushing. God, I miss shy women. The kind who don’t throw themselves at me looking to fuck a star.
“What about you? Why are you coming to Kodiak Island?” She looks me over in an assessing way, as if she’s trying to figure me out.
I’m dressed casually in a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. “I come out here every summer to fish with my brother, but he can’t make it this year, so I’m on my own.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.”
I shrug. “I’m okay with it. Sometimes it’s nice to get away from all the crazy and be at peace with nature, you know?”
“I definitely do. I went to school in Seattle for a year. Well, more like a month. It was a lot.” She shudders and shakes her head. “I’m not from the city. Our town had less than two thousand people, so it was a big change. Cities can be exciting—but scary. Are you from Seattle?”
“I grew up in New York.”
“I’ve always wanted to go there, but it looks so . . . overwhelming.”
“Well, to be fair, I grew up in Upstate New York, which is nothing like the city. It’s pretty rural in some areas.”
A Lie for a Lie Page 2
