But I wasn’t about to admit that to Travis.
“Anyway,” he said, clearly pretending the current conversation wasn’t happening, “after Emma’s declaration to the entire pub, how could I not ask her out? And the rest, as they say, is history. She and I are now dating exclusively.”
Did it sound like he almost choked on those last two words? That alone made the charade all the more fun.
“Well, I think this deserves a toast.” Fanny picked up her water and waited for us to pick up ours. “To the happy couple. May your days and nights together be blissful and plenty.”
My girlie parts sang out, “Here, here,” in chorus. Traitors.
And then Fanny added, “Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.”
Yeah—I had no idea what she was talking about, either. It just came out of nowhere. Travis gave her a that’s-nice smile and went back to eating as though she hadn’t said anything—which was pretty much what Fanny did, too.
The rest of the dinner went well. Fanny was funny and highly entertaining. Or maybe the way she constantly embarrassed Travis was highly entertaining. She also said a few more random phrases like, “Choose kindness and laugh often,” and “I’m not what has happened to me. I am what I choose to become.” Apparently the last one was from Carl Jung. Unlike the other ones, that quote hit close to home.
The only thing that wasn’t entertaining was the level of guilt clogging my insides like day-old constipation. The more I got to know Fanny, the worse I felt about Travis’s and my deception.
Was the guilt enough for me to tell her the truth? Hell, no. I couldn’t afford to lose my store. It meant everything to me. Plus, she was happy. That was what Travis wanted. That was what I wanted. For Fanny to be happy.
Was it too late to become Catholic, go to confession, and say a hundred Hail Marys (or whatever it was that Catholics said after they’d sinned)?
Okay—how about I call that Plan B?
On the way back to my apartment, Travis and I discussed the mural some more.
“I’ll talk to Amelia tomorrow and finalize the details,” I said.
We had already discussed how we needed to use two coats of blue paint on the wall, to represent the sky. That would be our first project.
“So, why does your grandmother say all those random comments? You know, the positive affirmation ones?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. She started doing it a few years ago. She likes to write them in a notebook every time she sees one. Abigail gave her positive affirmation toilet paper for Christmas one year. After that, Granny kept saying them out loud. But because the sayings never fit what she was talking about, she got into the habit of blurting them just because she could.”
I barked a laugh. “That is the funniest and most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”
Travis pulled up in front of my building.
“Thanks for offering to help me with the mural,” I said, and leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek. But at the last second, he turned his head and my lips—the heat seeking missiles that they were—landed on his mouth.
And apparently that wasn’t enough for them. They parted and my tongue welcomed Travis’s. A hunger for him consumed me and I deepened the kiss. The ache between my legs begged me to straddle his hips and rub it against his length. It ignored the part about the steering wheel being in the way.
I reminded it of our hot date with Alejandro.
All right—maybe I was crazy thinking that would be enough to appease it.
Silly me.
I pulled slightly back, breath ragged.
“You’re welcome,” he said. The amusement in his tone? I had a feeling he was talking about the kiss and not why I had really been thanking him.
I quickly escaped his car and didn’t even give him a second glance as I headed to the building. But while I might have been acting nonchalant about the kiss in the car and the one back at Fanny’s apartment, the thoughts powering through my brain were the furthest from nonchalant as you could get.
Somehow I managed not to stumble as I walked up the pathway to the entrance.
Once inside the building, I hightailed it up the stairs to the third floor and entered my apartment.
“Hi, I’m home,” I called out to the emptiness.
I really needed to get a pet. Like a fish. Or a snail.
I made a beeline to my bedroom.
The plan? Happy time with Alejandro.
But the ache between my legs wouldn’t cooperate and gave me the silent treatment—as in no orgasms for me. They didn’t even materialize when I thought back to when Travis kissed me on the balcony. That alone should have been enough—but the mutinous ache refused to budge even an inch.
Eventually giving up, I returned a dejected Alejandro to my bedside drawer.
Now what was I supposed to do?
I ignored the whispered suggestions about Travis the ache threw my way.
16
Travis
What’s the worst thing about musicals? They’re unrealistic. I mean seriously, how many people do you know who would be strolling down the street with their friend one minute and dancing the next? In the real world, life isn’t like how it’s portrayed in musicals. Why? Because behind those movies are a choreographer, talented dancers, and a shitload of practicing. That is how they make everything look so effortless.
Which was the exact opposite of how Josh, my seven teammates, and I looked as we tried to do the simple—in Holly’s opinion, not mine—dance routine.
We hadn’t even made it past the first few steps before we were crashing into each other.
“It’s turn to the left on the third step,” Holly said, her Aussie accent still as strong as it was when I met her two years ago. She smiled in a way that was supposed to be encouraging. And it might have worked—if we were five-year-olds.
We knew we sucked.
Holly didn’t have to tell us that.
The difference between Holly and Coach Fusco? Fusco would have been yelling at us to get our act together.
Fortunately, skating without landing on your ass, even with the other team body checking us, was a lot easier than dancing.
We were in the dance studio that Holly had lined up for us so we could practice during the next few weeks. The friend of one of her colleagues owned the place and was happy to let us rent the space before the evening classes began.
“All right, let’s try that again,” Holly said and demonstrated the steps once more.
By the third time, we didn’t come off quite as incompetent as we had in the beginning. But it was still close.
“Hopefully by the time we tear off our shirts,” Mark said, “the audience will forget how bad we are.”
“Someone care to remind me again why we’re torturing ourselves this way?” Sean asked.
“Christ, you sound like a bunch of fucking old ladies.” That was Josh.
“At least then we would know what the heck we’re doing,” Sean pointed out.
Holly wrapped her arms around Josh’s waist. “Honestly, you guys are doing great. And like Mark said, the women won’t care if you aren’t perfect onstage. You’re just there to fulfill their sexual fantasies.”
“Don’t tell that to Bridget,” Sean said. Mark nodded in agreement as did the two other married players.
The rest of us thanked God we were single. Or at least I was positive the other three single players were thinking that. The show was scheduled prior to the beginning of hockey season, which meant Emma and I would still be pretending we were an item. And since Granny and her cronies were planning to attend the event, it meant I wouldn’t get to appreciate the benefits of being single when it came to some of the horny women in the audience.
What did the Rock organization think about what we were doing? Yes, I did have a meeting with several members, including the general manager. Because the proceeds were going to charity, they were on board with it—as long as we followed a lengthy list of r
ules.
The #1 rule? Keep it family friendly.
No lap dancing.
No grinding.
No bare asses.
No removal of our pants—unless we were wearing family friendly shorts underneath.
Even though the guys and I were still a long way from nailing the first part of the dance, Holly taught us what came next. An hour later, we were dripping with sweat and looked like we had just finished playing the third period of a playoff game.
The door opened and in walked Emma, followed by a woman who I recognized as Josh and Holly’s nanny.
Yes—the woman who resembled a fifty-year-old male boxer. And equally as attractive.
But as scary looking as she was, she was amazing with their eighteen-month-old daughter. Lily adored her. Holly adored her. So all was great.
Josh walked to the woman, grinning in the way I’d only seen him do with his daughter, and scooped Lily out of her nanny’s arms.
“How’s my big girl doing?” he asked her in the singsong voice he saved for his daughter. But it worked for him—and I didn’t just mean with Lily.
Apparently babies and cute toddlers were babe magnets. I kid you not. If a woman walks around with a baby strapped to her chest, guys take a wide berth around her—as if afraid the baby will turn into a repulsive two-headed monster.
Not so when a man has a baby strapped to his chest. Then every baby-craving female in a ten-mile radius will hone in on the pair. Although in most cases, the man isn’t looking for a baby mama. He already has one.
But hanging out with your friend while he’s carrying around a babe magnet doesn’t mean you’ll get lucky once the girls realize he isn’t single. It doesn’t matter if most times you have no trouble getting laid, hanging out with your friend and his child is an instant babe repellent for all us kid-free men.
I know—completely unfair.
Emma joined me and I introduced her around—including to Holly, Josh, and Lily.
Yes, I noticed the similarities between Holly and Emma too, with the bright auburn hair. But as hot as Holly was, she didn’t incite the same reaction in me that Emma did.
Emma had a sexy, adventurous look about her, thanks to her mess of curls. It made me believe that she’d be a wildcat in bed.
My cock twitched, seconding that assessment.
“How’s it going?” Emma asked us.
“Not bad at all.” Could she tell I was lying? Hopefully not.
Although from the way the guys squirmed at the question, she might have guessed I was being less than truthful.
“Can I see?”
“See what?” Yes, I knew exactly what she was asking.
“The routine.”
A smirk grew on my face. “Impatient much? Hate to see what you’re like at Christmas.”
“Santa and I have an understanding that he never lets me wait.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m going to have to disappoint you this one time. But I promise you, this will be the only time I’ll disappoint.” No hidden innuendos there at all.
No siree.
Her gaze dropped momentarily to my package. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“You do that.” I winked.
“So,” Mark said in his okaaay-moving-right-along voice, “are we done here?” He looked at Holly, his expression hopeful.
“Yes, we’ll resume tomorrow where we left off.”
With that, the guys grabbed their stuff and bailed.
“Aren’t you just adorable?” Emma said to Lily, who was now in her mother’s arms while Josh toweled the sweat from his body.
Lily giggled her agreement.
Emma grinned at her, but that wasn’t the only emotion on her face. I recognized the yearning in her eyes. She longed for what Holly had—a man and a child.
Fortunately, it wasn’t the same expression she leveled at me. Did I feel bad that our deal kept her from finding a man in the meantime?
Not at all. For some strange reason, satisfaction paraded through me. Besides, it wasn’t like she would be my fake girlfriend forever. It was only for four and a half more weeks. Surely that wouldn’t make a difference in her long-term plans.
After she finished gushing over Lily, I asked her if we were still on for tomorrow. We’d planned to paint the wall blue where the mural would be located at the youth center.
“I’ll be there,” she said, smiling.
For a second, I thought she was going to kiss me like she had in the car the other day, but instead, she and Holly started talking.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed that she didn’t even try.
And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t contemplating what it would feel like to be burrowed deep inside her. Unfortunately for my cock and me, Emma was the one who had the final say in that.
And from the way things were currently going, it looked like my cock and I would continue to be disappointed…for a very long time.
17
Emma
After leaving Travis and his friends at the dance studio, I met Hannah at the hardware store so I could buy the paints for the mural.
“You know,” she said as I pushed the shopping cart up the aisle, “first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Emma with a baby carriage. But nowhere in the song does it say, ‘First comes the guy stripping off his clothes in public.’ ”
“What the heck are you talking about? I’m not in love.” Lust, maybe.
Definitely lust.
She laughed. “Didn’t say you were. Yet. But hello, I’ve seen the guy. How can you not be interested?”
“Looks don’t mean everything,” I said, stopping in front of the paint I was searching for. “A guy might look hot but end up being a jerk.”
“So true.” Hannah was more than familiar with this type of man. She was the epitome of a jerk magnet. I was just the magnet for boring. “But let’s examine for a moment what we know about Travis. First—he didn’t have to but he’s helping you paint the mural at the youth center, and he’s doing it for free. Doesn’t sound like a jerk to me.”
“True, but—”
“Second—even though he didn’t have to, he and his teammates will be stripping in front of a bunch of horny women to raise money for charity.”
“Well, they’re not exactly stripping all the way. Their hockey team won’t allow it.”
She flicked her hand in the air as though batting away an annoying housefly. “That’s neither here nor there. He’s still doing it.”
“Also true.”
“And let’s not forget he could’ve just told his grandmother to bugger off about his love life. But instead of hurting her feelings, he’s pretending to date you so she’s happy for the time being. And he has to sacrifice sex for the next four and half weeks because of this.”
I snickered. “Yes—the poor baby. The mayor should erect a statue in Travis’s honor because of his sacrifice.” Yep, the pun had been intentional.
Hannah burst out laughing. “You know what you need?”
“Paints. And some paintbrushes.” I grabbed a paintbrush from the shelf. “Plus the rollers.”
“You need to get laid.” Of course she said this as a woman who looked to be a day short of one hundred years old approached us.
I flinched. “I don’t need to get laid,” I said, practically hissing the words, but low enough so the woman wouldn’t hear me.
Only I suspected I wasn’t all that successful. She turned to us with the same impish gleam in her eyes that I had seen with Fanny. “Everyone needs to get laid, young lady. Some of us just aren’t so lucky to get it anymore.”
“And there you have it,” Hannah said, the corners of her mouth twitching. “It’s official—you need to get laid. While you still can.”
“What do you mean while I still can? I’ve got plenty of time.”
“You got four and half weeks left with Travis. That will be gone before you know it, and then you’ll regret you waited so long.”
“Oh, please, there’ll be other guys after him.”
Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because I can’t remember the last time you actually went out with a guy.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t go out with anyone after Travis and I end things.”
The woman listened avidly to our conversation, her head moving back and forth between us as we spoke. “Is your boyfriend moving away?” she asked.
“No,” I replied without thinking how that sounded. “It’s only a temporary thing.” Yes—because that had sounded so much better. I mentally groaned.
“Temporary? Is he not a very nice young man?”
Hannah chuckled. “No, I’d say he is a nice young man. At least so far he seems that way.”
“It’s complicated,” I added.
“What relationship isn’t complicated?” the elderly woman said. “And sometimes those are the best ones.”
“Not in this case.” And because the woman must’ve had magical powers, the words I’d never even told Hannah broke free. “I was in the same high school as him for a few months. He was supposed to be my project partner for one of our classes, but because he didn’t want to work with me, he got out of it and I had to do all the work myself.”
Was that cathartic—laying it all out to a stranger? Nope, not at all.
I wasn’t sure why I’d even said it. I had already made peace with what had happened.
“Why do you believe he didn’t wish to work with you?” the woman asked.
“Because I was living in foster care. And not a great one at that. I didn’t have fashionable or new clothes. Not like his friends at the time had. My clothes were falling apart and out of date. His girlfriend used to make fun of me and call me a homeless street bum.” And she still called me that after they broke up.
Did I need a violin to play along as I explained it to the woman and Hannah? No, it was all good. Kendra couldn’t hurt me anymore.
And really, when I thought about it, it all came down to Kendra, not Travis. Her words still cut deep. For years after, I’d felt undeserving…unworthy.
Decidedly With Love Page 9
