Best Played (Salt Lake Pumas)

by Camellia Tate

  This whole pretend dating thing was me doing Roxi a favor, it would be pretty shitty to take advantage of her. Besides, she obviously didn’t want a boyfriend otherwise she wouldn’t need a fake one.

  “He’s... handsome?” I offered, sounding a bit unsure even to myself. Shrugging one shoulder, I shot Roxi an apologetic look. “I don’t know what an appropriate horse compliment is. He obviously meant a lot to you. Do your parents still have horses?”

  Roxi’s whole body seemed to come alive, energy sweeping through her as she tossed her braid over her shoulder. “Yeah,” she answered, with obvious enthusiasm. “I think they’ve got three right now. None of them are quite as handsome as Lear.” I laughed, getting the sense that Roxi was teasing me a little.

  “I still ride, too,” she added. “Practically every weekend I’m at a stables near Salt Lake. I don’t own any of the horses, but I try to help out with the stable chores when I have time, so they like me more than they like the other people who pay but don’t want to do any of that work.”

  She flashed me a smile. “Have you ever ridden a horse?”

  “Maybe like once when I was a kid?” I replied. “I mean, since my memory is so hazy of it, I’m not even sure I have. Horses always seemed more... girl things?” It wasn’t the greatest admission to make, but at the same time, I had literally never met a guy who was interested in horse riding.

  Of course, most guys I met were hockey players or hockey-obsessed in some way.

  “Psh,” Roxi exhaled, shaking her head. “Clearly you’ve never been to a rodeo. Horses are totally non-gendered. But I guess they don’t really have cowboys in Sweden.” That brought another laugh to my lips as I shook my head. No, I’d never heard of a Swedish cowboy. I was pretty sure they weren’t really a thing in Europe at all.

  Giving me a challenging look from under her fair eyelashes, Roxi carried on. “You’re here for a week, we’ll go riding. I’ll show you that it’s not just for girls.” From the direction of the rest of the house, I could hear voices. Probably more of Roxi’s family had arrived to eat.

  “Do you want to rest?” Roxi asked. “I’m not really tired, but I can tell them you need a break, if you want.”

  I had to think about that.

  The flight hadn’t been very long but it had been long enough. There was a soft sort of tiredness in my muscles and I could feel thoughts circling around my head almost with lethargy.

  “Yeah,” I finally decided. “If that’s okay with you, I wouldn’t mind having a small nap. I’ll let you catch up with your family and then, with the power of a nap, I’ll be more ready to meet everyone?” Roxi’s mom had been lovely, so I had no doubt so would everyone else be.

  She nodded, giving me a look that made me believe she actually cared about whether I could rest or not. “I’m sure they won’t mind,” she assured me. “I’ll just tell them that it’s important for an NHL star to get his rest.”

  We both chuckled, Roxi’s hand lifting almost like she was going to brush my hair out of my face. She caught herself, letting the hand fall and offering me a smile, instead.

  “Just come through when you’re ready,” she said, before leaving me to it. I could tell she was eager to catch up with her family, so I let her go, happy to have the bed to myself, at least for a little while.

  Chapter Seven

  Roxi

  Even though Olle wasn’t my real boyfriend, I was still nervous about him meeting my dad. It had taken Tim weeks to get into my father’s good books, no matter how often Rachel pleaded that he was treating her like a princess.

  Olle was… different. Daddy and Tim had a lot in common; they liked the same music and the same movies. Hopefully, Dad would cut Olle some slack for not growing up in America. He couldn’t be expected to have the same kind of history.

  By the time we sat down to dinner, my stomach was roiling. It was hard to believe I could have been more nervous if I’d brought Olle home for real.

  “So, Olle, what’s your favorite thing about America?” My dad asked as he handed round potatoes.

  “Hockey,” he answered before my dad had even managed to fully finish the question. The speed of Olle’s response seemed to startle Dad, because he visibly frowned. There was a small awkward pause and I almost said something, feeling like I had to fix it or whatever.

  But I didn’t.

  Daddy laughed, a sharp sudden bark of a laugh, and Olle grinned back.

  “Not just hockey,” he promised. “I like how distinct all the different parts are. I was thinking this when we landed in Tennessee, how much different it looks from Utah. It’s amazing to me that it’s the same country still.”

  “And not enough people take advantage of that!” Steph piped up. This was her particular passion, the idea that even people without a passport could see mountains and deserts and the ocean, if only they would make the effort to travel out of their state.

  “Did either of your parents play hockey?” Rachel asked, leaning across Tim to send the green beans past him to Olle. “I’m afraid I don’t know enough about Sweden to know if it’s popular there.”

  “It’s very popular there,” Olle assured them. “That’s one of the reasons you get quite a few Swedes in the NHL,” he added. “But no, neither of my parents played. Both of them love hockey, though, which is why they sent me to play it and, well, turns out I’m pretty okay.”

  The teasing tone made the others smile and I had to consciously make the effort not to let my heart skip a beat. It seemed to come so easily to Olle, to just chat with my family like he’d known them for years.

  “Would you like to try one of our wines?” my mom asked, already holding up a bottle of white. Shit! I should have told them Olle didn’t drink before we were all sitting around the dinner table. That was very inconsiderate of me and put him in an awkward position to turn the offer down.

  But when Olle did speak, he didn’t sound at all awkward or like he minded needing to say, “No, thank you. I don’t drink alcohol.” You could practically hear my family members’ eyes widen in surprise.

  “Oh,” mom said, lowering the bottle again.

  Olle, much to his credit, gave a laugh. “I’m sure it’s lovely,” he promised all of us.

  My gaze darted towards my dad, heart in my mouth. He was too polite to say anything at the table, but if there was disapproval in his eyes, I would recognize it. I’d seen him direct it at the two boys I’d brought home in high school, when he’d decided they weren’t man enough to treat me the way he thought I deserved.

  But he just nodded at Olle, like he respected him for being open about it. That look made me realize that I, too, felt that swell of respect for Olle. No matter how awkward it might be to come to a vineyard and turn down a free drink, he’d taken it in stride.

  Steph caught me shooting Olle a smile and she waggled her eyebrows at me, making kissy faces that nearly made me throw a dinner roll at her.

  “How do your parents feel about you being so far away from home?” Steph asked, turning her attention to Olle and saving herself from my attempt at retribution.

  I was grateful that the subject had been changed so quickly. The interest my family was expressing in Olle made me feel a little guilty. It was genuine, of course, like they were trying to get to know my boyfriend. Because Olle was my boyfriend. As far as they knew.

  “They do wish I was closer to home, of course, but I’ve lived abroad for a long time now. I speak to my mom a lot on the phone and she comes out to visit often. I’m not as close with my dad, but he comes to visit a couple of times a year, too.” It was striking just how honest Olle’s answers were.

  He didn’t have to answer my family’s questions, certainly not give them such insight into his life. And yet, here he was, just telling them about things so easily. Things that I’d definitely never read in any magazine about him.

  “And you visit them?” Steph added.

  “Yeah.” Olle nodded. “I go home every summer.”

  “So
will you be taking Roxi with you this year?” Rachel piped up, the blush shooting straight to my cheeks but I managed to blame it on the wine as I reached for my glass.

  Olle turned to give me a smile. “If she’d like,” he answered Rachel, but his eyes were on me.

  My heart was pounding against my ribs and I had to remind myself that it wasn’t a real offer. Olle and I would have to ‘break up’ before the summer. But I didn’t want to think about that, right now. Contemplating the fact that I was setting my family up to feel sorry for me later was too much.

  “Of course,” I said, a nervous laugh slipping out before I could catch it. “I just hope I’m as cool about meeting your parents as you’ve been about meeting mine.”

  That made everybody chuckle, and covered up my genuine emotions by making my family believe I was just anxious about meeting Olle’s family.

  “You’ll have to tell me more about Sweden before I come,” I added, a genuine note of teasing creeping into my voice. “As payback for me talking your ear off about Tennessee.”

  “Oh, you should have heard her,” Olle grinned, turning back to my family. “Roxi really likes it here,” he informed them all, like they didn’t already know. From the amusement in Olle’s tone, I could tell he knew not only that I loved Tennessee but that everyone around the table did.

  It filled me with warmth to think that it had been my bragging about my home that had made Olle want to come here. Olle went on to ask some more questions about the state and about how long my parents had lived here. I let the chatter wash over me, nerves slowly settling.

  This was going a lot better than I could have possibly imagined. I just had to remind myself that Olle wasn’t really my boyfriend.

  “You were great!” I praised Olle, once we were safely back in my old bedroom. “Not that I thought you’d be bad, but -” Well, honestly, I hadn’t known how Olle would do because I hadn’t known what to expect from a fake boyfriend.

  “Was it alright? I mean, Daddy didn’t scare you?”

  Even now that Olle had met my family, I still felt like we’d be found out. Someone would say something and it’d all unravel. But that hadn’t happened. There had been a couple of perhaps awkward questions. Yes, about how we’d met, but the explanation that we’d met at a party because of Lacey seemed to satisfy everyone.

  It almost felt bad just how easy it was to spin this lie. Guilt sat low in my stomach, thankfully currently squashed by the wine. Everyone seemed happy for me and Olle. But then, of course they would, they were my family and wanted to see me happy.

  “Your dad’s fine,” Olle answered, oblivious to all the thoughts spinning through my head. “He obviously wants what’s best for you, I can hardly blame him for that,” he commented, going about getting things out of his bag and setting them to one side. It felt almost domestic.

  But with thoughts of that, it also struck me that this was it, this was us needing to share a bed!

  This time, Olle did sense my thoughts, because he gave me a look. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor? I really don’t mind if you do,” he promised.

  “No,” I insisted. If I hadn’t made the decision before dinner, maybe I would have questioned whether it was the wine talking. But we had decided before dinner. Olle was doing me a favor, making my life easier for no benefit to himself. I wasn’t going to make him sleep on the floor!

  Besides, this was hardly the first time I’d shared a bed with a man. True, usually we’d had sex first, but that only highlighted that this was less intimate. At least, that was what I was telling myself.

  “I’ll just… turn away,” I offered, hoping that Olle couldn’t see the way I was flushing. “My family might think it’s weird if you go change in the restroom.”

  “Roxi,” Olle said, with a soft laugh. “I change in the same room as a whole team of hockey players, I’m pretty used to getting naked without being bothered by it.” And oh, yeah. Still, that hardly meant that I should watch Olle change. Instead, I tried to focus on my own getting into my pajamas.

  I only turned around when I was sure the blush coloring my cheeks had gone. But it was in vain. How could I not blush when Olle was standing there in nothing but some lounge pants, his muscled chest bare?

  A soft ‘oh’ escaped me and Olle’s eyes met mine instantly. “Sorry, I can’t seem to find the shirt I use for sleeping, but it’s cool I’ll just wear one of my other t-shirts,” he promised. “Sorry. This is awkward.”

  “It shouldn’t be,” I said, tossing my hair back over my shoulder. If I could convince myself that there was no reason to feel awkward then maybe I’d be able to stop blushing at Olle’s ripped abs. After all, I’d seen them often enough in magazines! Why did it feel different to actually be in the same room?

  I knew why, but it wasn’t something I could admit to Olle. Being in the same room raised the possibility of touching Olle’s bare chest, that was why my cheeks kept flushing with heat.

  But I wasn’t going to touch Olle. It would be taking advantage of his generosity in coming with me. Besides, that would really make things weird.

  “We’ll get used to it,” I promised Olle. “It’s just because it’s new and we don’t really know each other.” Maybe we should fix that. Focusing on Olle as a person would help me not to ogle him like a magazine centerfold.

  “Do you ever get homesick?” I asked. “I know you’ve been in the States for a long time…”

  Pulling a t-shirt on, Olle shook his head. “Not really. I guess maybe sometimes, but probably a lot less than some of the guys. Some of them get homesick and their families only live a few states away,” he commented. “I guess everyone’s different.”

  Crawling into bed, Olle sat up against the pillows. “What about you? Do you get homesick? You’re pretty close to your family and, obviously, you love it here.”

  With a thoughtful hum, I loosed my hair from its braid, giving a soft sigh of relief. Keeping my hair tied back was practical, but that first moment of letting it tumble free was like taking my bra off for the day. It meant that I was ready for sleep. Or, at least, to get comfortable in bed. I certainly didn’t feel tired.

  “I suppose I do,” I confirmed. “Utah is nice, and I love my apartment, but it doesn’t really feel like home, you know? It’s not that I think I’ll move away, exactly…” I certainly didn’t plan to move back to the vineyard. I loved to visit, but I loved my independence, too.

  I gave a small shrug as I slipped into the bed beside Olle. “I guess I assume one day I’ll make a family of my own, and that will make somewhere a home.” A soft sigh escaped my lips. “That’s kind of why I don’t like coming to weddings alone. It reminds me that I’m not there yet.”

  “Yeah, I guess I can see that,” Olle nodded. “How do you feel about how it went? Was I... okay, I suppose?” The question felt so genuine, like Olle was expecting some feedback on how to improve if his performance hadn’t been satisfactory. I would bet good money this was the attitude he had about hockey - do your best and then improve.

  Even though we were sitting as far apart as the bed allowed, the warmth of Olle’s body still made its way to me under the covers. It was hard not to imagine how good it would feel to curl into that heat, to be allowed to run my hand over the muscles I’d seen under Olle’s shirt.

  So far, my attempt to keep myself distracted wasn’t going very well!

  “You were great,” I answered. “You seemed totally natural and honest. I’m sure my family aren’t going to suspect anything.” Brushing my hand over the covers, I shot a sideways glance at Olle’s handsome profile. “Are you like that with everyone?”

  The question seemed to surprise Olle a little. He gave a small hum and I could see the way his brow furrowed a little. “Maybe not really,” he decided. “I was trying to be... honest. It’s not that I said anything I didn’t feel comfortable with, more that they’re not exactly questions I get often.”

  It made sense, since a lot of them had been fairly personal questions.
Friends wouldn’t need to ask those and the media wouldn’t be deemed appropriate to hear answers to them. The knowledge that Olle had said these things for me made my stomach swirl pleasantly.

  He slid down in the bed, turning on his side to look at me. “I don’t know how good of a boyfriend I’ve been in the past, but I guess no one’s ever said I can’t get on with others.”

  The words inflamed my curiosity, making me want to ask what Olle’s relationships had been like. He’d mentioned two, but hadn’t said anything about how they had ended. What stopped me was my awareness that Olle had already answered a lot of personal questions today.

  Besides, there was nothing I could offer to answer in exchange. None of my relationships had lasted long enough to even be interesting.

  “One day down,” I teased instead. “Only six more and a wedding to get through.”

  As nervous and guilty as I felt, I was still looking forward to the wedding. Seeing Rachel happy was worth any amount of discomfort on my part - and Tim made her blissfully happy.

  “I’ll take you on a tour of the vineyard tomorrow,” I offered. “If you want to know about the wine, I’ll ask Peter to come, too. He’s the expert on growing and grapes.”

  Olle’s smile made my stomach flip. We settled down, keeping a chaste distance between us. I had to force myself to close my eyes, the voice in my head harshly reminding me that watching Olle sleep would be creepy.

  Even so, I could feel him beside me. His breathing deepened, slowly lulling me into a state of relaxation. My excitement bubbled, an almost pleasant background hum as I finally curled onto my side and fell asleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Olle

  It had been some time since I’d woken up next to someone. Being in the habit of waking up early, I was up before Roxi. For a moment, just after I’d woken, things felt right. It was an odd sort of feeling. Like I’d forgotten that this was fake, that she wasn’t really my girlfriend, that the only reason we were sharing a bed was that it’d seem weird for us not to.