Chapter 16
Bella
WHITEBOARD NOTE
Kieran here formally requesting more baked goods please xxx
aughter bursts from my chest. Of all the things he could have said, thatL was not what I was expecting.
I was prepared to answer questions—a lot of them. I was also ready to explain why I needed the money. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to not even bat an eye at the amount I demanded.
I’ve never done this before. It took me two hours to talk myself into walking through his front door, and in the end, the number wasn’t a big deal to him.
In hindsight, some part of me knew it wouldn’t be. The man makes millions a year. But it’s huge for me. It will potentially save my mother’s life, and that is why I’m here saying yes.
At the horrified look that enters his gaze at my laugh, I rush forward, my hands outstretched. “Oh god! Sorry, no, I’m not laughing at you! It’s just—”
I come to a stop before him, having to tilt my head back to peer into his blue eyes. My stomach flips. “You don’t care about the money? At all?”
He looses a long breath. “No, you’ll be putting yourself in the spotlight.
There was always going to be compensation for the role.” He licks his lips, and I can’t help but track the movement.
Warmth pools in my belly.
This is why I didn’t want to do this. How am I supposed to keep our working relationship intact when he licks his lips and it makes me want to hump him like a dog?
Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I lift my gaze once more to find him smirking. “I suppose Lucy has another giant folder of documents for me
to sign?”
He winces. “Most likely.”
It looks as if he’s about to apologize, so I jump in. “It’s okay, I understand. If this came out, I’m sure it would only tarnish your name further.”
Suddenly, I realize how close we’re standing. His chest nearly brushing mine as it rises and falls, the flush to his cheeks, the slight glaze in his eyes.
Taking a step back as goosebumps line my arms, I take a measured seat on the couch, watching as Grayson does the same.
It seems I’m not the only one hyperaware.
“I feel you need to know why I’m doing this.”
My head cocks from side to side. “If you feel comfortable sharing, yes, I would like to know why we’re doing this.”
He rubs the back of his neck, which I’m discovering is a nervous tick of his. When he turns to me, his cheeks are slightly flushed. “I haven’t been performing well, not as well as I should be considering my contract. I’ve also been a PR nightmare for the team as of late, which I’m sure you know.”
“Actually, I don’t. I didn’t google you. I wanted to make my own assumptions.”
He blinks quickly, shock taking over until a smile blossoms across his cheeks, growing with every passing second he stares at me. “That’s… refreshing.”
I shrug. “You couldn’t google my life history, so I figured I’d give you the same courtesy.”
Grayson’s blue eyes spark. “Well, let’s just say it wasn’t pretty and my recent stint was the organization’s last straw.” He grimaces. “They have every right to evaluate me as a player, but it was the wake-up call I needed.”
I nod, wishing he would tell me more but not wanting to push. “And how do I come into the equation?”
“Right!” he says, shaking his head as his small chuckle sends a shiver down my spine. “The player they’re thinking of replacing me with is a family
man that, despite being a raging dick and serial cheater, somehow manages to
not get any negative press.”
My eyes widen. “Raging dick?”
“Raging.”
I whistle. “So, I’m going to be perceived as…what? The woman that made you settle down?”
He bites the inside of his cheek, eyes sparking as they heat. “Precisely.”
I’m nodding, a thousand thoughts flooding my mind at once until I start at the top of my mental to-do list that I crafted when I decided I’d say yes to his proposition.
“We should establish the ground rules for this.”
His brow quirks. “Ground rules?”
“What exactly you need from me and when. Do I go to all your games now or is it just in the press? What boundaries do we have for one another?
We should establish it all because if there isn’t communication during this it will get…messy.”
Messy as in I need to know that if you kiss me it’s fake, just so I don’t let my libido run away from me and get the impression you find me attractive.
A lightning bolt of heat strikes through my body. I’m going to have to kiss him, and something tells me I’m going to love it more than I should. But I can’t say that, so I settle on repeating, “Ground rules.”
He looks at me dubiously. “Have you done this before?”
I snort, then bark with shocked laughter. “God no. My best friend Layla reads a lot; she told me the best way to move forward.”
“What does this have to do with reading?”
“I honestly have no idea. She blushes and clamps up if you ask her.” I wave my hand in the air. “We’re getting off track. Ground rules. What does this fake relationship look like? How do we convince everyone you’re on the straight and narrow?”
He rubs his palm over his five o’clock shadow and I have the strongest urge to trail my fingers down the stubble, to feel it tickle my sensitive skin.
Men aren’t trustworthy. Men break hearts. Men are unreliable.
That is the mantra that will get me through this to see my mother alive and well. I just need to keep reminding myself that despite him appearing shy and adorable and ruggedly sexy with his wavy brown locks and perfectly chiseled face, he is still a man, and he will break my heart if I don’t remember that everything moving forward is fake.
He looks around the living room as if it will give him the answers he seeks and I suppose it does because something sparks in his gaze before he straightens and turns back to me with a hint of mischievousness. “I suppose it would look like you attending any home games and team events during the season, and me taking you on dates.”
I’m nodding along, my brain running a thousand steps ahead.
“Home games. I can do —”
“We usually all go to a bar downtown after home games. It would be odd if you didn’t come to those.”
“Home games and celebrations after.” I wink. “Or commiserating drinks.”
He guffaws. “If you were my real girlfriend you’d have a lot more faith in my ability.”
“Mm-hmm,” I hum under my breath. “What else?” I ask, steering us back to the topic at hand.
He blows out a breath. “During the season, press is really heavy and I suppose this is all for good publicity, so a date a week? Perhaps two?
Depending on our schedules.”
“Public solo appearances, done.”
He pauses, those blue eyes snagging on my brown. “Are you making a mental list?”
My back straightens and I run my fingers through my hair, a nervous tick of mine. “No, why would you say that?” Of course I’m making a mental list, but he doesn’t need to know the depths of how neurotic they can be.
His eyes seem to peer all the way to my soul before a lopsided grin takes over.
Before he can spew whatever he’s about to say, I click my tongue. “Back to the topic. Is there anything else?”
A blush explodes across his cheeks as he adverts his gaze from mine. In a second, that cocky smirk is gone, replaced by a shyness that surprisingly warms my belly.
Ducking my head, I try to catch his gaze once more. “Open communication is the only way this will work.”
“I should be the one saying that, not you.” He blows out a frustrated breath before blurting, “We need to discuss intimacy.”
I nod along slowly, my heart leaping at the words. I knew this conversation would happen, and I prepared myself by practicing schooling
my features so he doesn’t see the way my body reacts at the thought of him touching me. I bite my lip to stop the smile that threatens to twitch upwards.
So much for schooling my expression.
“Are you usually an affectionate person?” I ask coolly.
“Tremendously.”
Oh, sweet heavens.
Now my cheeks are heating. “So we’re going to have to —”
“Touch. A lot,” he cuts in. A warmth fills his blue eyes, a warmth that wasn’t there before. No wonder puck bunnies throw themselves at him. He’s a giant teddy bear stuffed into the body of a six-foot-four, six-pack hockey god. “Do you have any reservations about that?” he drawls slowly, his eyes trailing down the length of my body.
I shake my head, unable to find my voice as all I can think about are the ways in which he will have to touch me and the fine line of making those around me believe I enjoy it, which let’s be real, I will. But I also need to make Grayson feel as if I don’t.
Because right now, as his eyes rove my body, all I want to know is how it would feel if it were his hands doing the exploring.
My head is already scrambled.
Just think of the money that will pay for Mom’s treatment.
“Do you have any reservations?” I ask, surprised to hear my voice is calm
despite the pounding in my ears.
“No.” He’s quick to respond.
“We should put rules around intimacy.”
A muscle feathers in his jaw before he licks his lips and clears his throat.
“I agree. Do you have any lines that you don’t want crossed?”
None, I want to blurt but quickly bite my tongue.
Grayson leans back, crossing one foot over the other as he spreads his left arm along the back of the couch. The way his muscles bunch has my heart
leaping into my throat.
Why does he have to be so sexy?
“We should only be physical when there are others around. Otherwise, the lines between you being my boss will be blurred. We have to try and keep in mind that I’m still your assistant.”
Something between us charges, as if an electric current has switched on.
“Assistant.” He nods slowly. “Right.”
My chest is rising and falling faster with every passing second. “How
long are we doing this for?”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we can’t pretend forever.”
An emotion flickers in his gaze, there and gone before I can grasp onto it to decipher how he’s feeling.
“The board makes their decision in three months, so I suppose then.”
And why does he sound so detested by the thought of that? Maybe I’m reading into it and it’s just the thought of only having three months to
convince the team to keep him on.
Three months.
Is that even enough time for my mom’s treatment? They said the treatment has several stages and durations for each. I suppose we will know if it’s working halfway through that time period though. If the treatment works, I will move heaven and earth to keep paying for the medication.
The insurance company is lucky I’m not at their door hounding them to pay for it.
Grayson’s deep, gravelly voice pulls my attention back to him. “Our first game of the season is next week and it’s a home game.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “Next week?” I squeak. “How am I meant to know everything a girlfriend should know by next week?”
He flashes me a grin, his cocky air returning. “Easy. I’ll take you out on a date. We can get to know each other and ask the questions we should already know, all the while being spotted out in public.”
My lips purse as I roll the proposal around in my mind. “That’s not a bad
idea.”
He winks. “It’s a great idea.”
My head is spinning. By next week I’ll be known as Grayson Crawford’s girlfriend and we’ll have to convince everyone in the hockey world that I was
the one to get his life back on track.
All so he can stay on his team.
No pressure.
Swallowing thickly, I broach the subject. “I understand the contracts and NDAs Lucy will send over, but I refuse to lie to my mom.”
She will need to know how and where I’m getting the money for her treatment, and if God forbid it doesn’t work, I don’t want to lie to my mom about my life before she… I can’t even think about it, the thought is so revolting.
This treatment will save her. It has to.
I’ve lied enough to her. I’m done lying.
Grayson nods, his eyes softening. “Understandable.”
“Really?”
“Of course. I don’t expect you to lie to your mom or your best friend… Layla, was it?”
I chalk it up to good memory and not to the idea he actually listens to every word I say. “Yes, Layla.”
“I don’t expect you to lie to them. I’m not lying to Kieran.”
“What about your family?”
Any lightness that was in his gaze winks out and dies. It’s as if I’ve thrown a bucket of water over his flame. His posture grows stiff, his grip on the couch pillow turns his knuckles white, and his face slackens with a heavy weariness that makes me want to give him a hug.
“I’ll deal with them,” he answers gruffly.
I’ve stuck my foot on a landmine, and I don’t know how to remove it safely.
“So, this date,” I go on, changing the topic. “When and where exactly is it?”
The tension still lingers around his body but my question has rekindled a spark. A small spark. But a spark nonetheless.
“Leave the details to me,” he drawls.
ou’re going on a date tonight?” Layla squeaks over the phone. “That“Y man moves fast.”
“That man is trying to get acquainted with me so we can make the hockey world believe we’ve fallen for one another. There is no ulterior
motive.”
“If you say so,” she sings.
Shaking my head at her antics, I move around the room trying to make myself look presentable enough to be in Grayson’s league. I’m not blind and I’m not vain either—I know I have some appealing physical features—but
Grayson is on another level entirely, and the last thing I want are photographs of us splashed across social media followed by comments from randoms on the internet saying that I’m not good enough.
Granted, those comments will happen regardless.
Layla warned me that no matter what I do, I’ll receive some sort of backlash from fans and women who want Grayson for themselves. How she knows this, I have not one inkling, but I agree with her. You can never please everyone but if I don’t feel my best tonight, I don’t doubt what others will
say about me later.
“Have you told your mom yet?”
Grimacing, I suck in a sharp breath. “No, I’m dreading it honestly. But I plan to tell her tomorrow morning over breakfast. After all, I need to tell her before her oncologist does.”
I called him the second I left Grayson’s house and made him administer the medication to my mom. I was quickly informed of the lengthy treatment and different stages, most needing to be administered in the hospital.
“Where does she think you’re going tonight?” Layla asks, pulling my thoughts away from the lengthy phone call with Dr. Stewart.
“Well…”
Layla’s startled gasp fills my childhood bedroom, which is still littered with moving boxes.
“Bella Stratford, are you sneaking out of your house at the ripe age of
twenty-six?”
Now I’m cringing—at myself. “Yes?”
A cackle of laughter comes over the line. Scooping my phone up, I take her off speaker, although with the sleeping medication my mom is on, she’s
knocked out.
“Stop laughing at me!”
“Are you going to leave out the window?” She snorts. “My god, can I
drive by and watch this unfold?”
“No, you cannot!”
I can’t help but laugh right alongside her. Her laughter is infectious.
Sliding my feet into my black knee-high boots, I step in front of my full- length mirror, twisting this way and that as I inspect the little white dress I’m wearing. It hugs my curves but is still breathable, made with a thick knit fabric that is as soft as pajamas.
I contemplated wearing red, but I thought it would be giving into him too
easily.
I had to pair the dress with my thickest coat, considering the dropping temperature. I have no doubt snow will be falling in spades soon enough, probably by this weekend. We had a light trickle two weeks ago but the full force of Colorado winters is about to hit.
I just hope wherever he’s taking me has heaters.
Checking the time, I swear under my breath. “Layla, I’ll call you tomorrow. He’ll be here any second.”
She whistles over the phone. “Just remember that I won’t judge you if you want to kiss him…or sleep with him.”
“I’m going now. Bye!”
“I can’t wait to hear about it all in the morning,” she yells over the phone, the demand evident. I’m not going to be able to avoid her probing.
Hanging up with a snort, I take a deep breath, check my makeup in the mirror one last time, and say a prayer that I won’t embarrass myself tonight as I tip-toe through my mom’s house and open the front door.
Only to come to a stop.
I never knew that a man could look so ruggedly handsome, could practically drip with sex appeal, could be tall and built with muscles upon muscles that borderline glimmer when the light shines on his sun-kissed skin.
Never knew he could have a face crafted by gods and yet be such a sweetheart.
That is until I step out my front door and see Grayson Crawford, standing on my porch holding a bouquet of lilies, with a slight tint of crimson staining
his cheeks.
LAYLA
I mean it, B!
send me updates as soon as you can
EEEKKK I’m so excited for you and please for the love of god, if the opportunity presents itself, climb that man like a tree!!!
