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The Pucking Fake Boyfriend: An enemies to lovers brother’s best friend hockey romance A J Summers
The ones I have been to since I started at NYU are almost interchangeable: outrageous costumes, a mass of screaming,drunkenbodies,lotsofboozeandcheapcandythatstickstoyourteeth Ihaveavoidedthemsincemyfreshmanyear. Untilnow.
Ifrownatmyroommate as she drags me up the stairs “Idon’tknow whatI’mdoinghere,” Icomplainfor probablythe twentiethtimetonight.
Carolrollshereyesatme “Ineedyoutokeepwatch,”shesaysaswestepintothehallofamusty,darkbuilding,andshe proceeds to dragme toward the elevator. “Remember? It’s Mark’s party, and I’mscared I’mgoingto embarrass myselfby drinkingtoomuch You’remysobersponsor”
“It’s a masked party It’s Halloween, girl” She has the gall to sound exasperated “Alotofcool students are here Rich ones,futurenationalathletes,afewguysvisitingfromCornell.Goandplay.”
BecauseIfeelmyarousal IhadnoideahowneedyIwasuntilhetouchedme “Ibetyou’repretty,”hemurmurs,settingasparkoffinmychest.“Followme.” He takes one ofmyhands, pullingme to myfeet. Dazed, Iobeyhim. Ihave never beenina situationlike this, butonce more,I’munabletostopmyselffromdoingwhatheorderedmeto.
“Good girl,” he mutters, his fingers wrappingaround myneck, squeezinggently. His voice is a rumble, sendingsparks alongmynerveendings andheatingthebloodinmyveins “Herearetherules Ifatanypointyoudecideyoudon’tlikeour gameanymore,yousay‘stop,’andI’llletyougo.Understood?”
Inodmyhead,myheartbanginginmychest Somehow,this stranger is revealingandfulfillingmywildestfantasyall at once.
“Niceass,”hegruntsasIstepoutofthem.Hispalmspanksoneofmycheeks,makingitjiggle.Hiswordsarebluntand unfeeling, revealingno emotionat all And somehow, that makes me pine for himharder Has he done somethinglike this before?
ExactlythewayIhadhopedPatrickwould Ikeepmyeyesshutagainstthethroesofpleasure,lettingmyselfenjoyeverysecondofhimfillingme.TonightisallIhave withhim Tomorrow,thiswillbeafeverdream,andyearsfromnow,IwillrememberitasthebesthookupIhadinmyentire life.
AsanewsreporterwhoroutinelyinterviewsNHLandNFLplayers,Ihaveheardandseenitall Menwhoburstoutcrying inthe middle ofaninterview because theyhad no one else to talkto. Menwho confessed to havinga secretaddictionor a shamefulpast.Menwhowoulddrunkenlybegmetojerkthemoff. Butthisonetopsthemall.
Ilookup atthe unsmiling, hardened face ofReggie Turner, three-time championofthe NHLand soon-to-be retiree. He looks exactlylike the pictures and videos Ihave seenofhim Tall, hugelymuscular, sleeve tattoos onhis arms He is huge enoughtocrushmewithonehand.Hisfaceischiseledtoperfection,hisshortbrownhairframingitinthemostappealingof ways
“Whatdidyoujustsay?”Iask,thoughIheardhimclearly.Manyofmycolleaguesliketoletstarshaveittheirwaywhile interviewingthem,evenentertainingacreepyjokeorsomeflirtingifitmeantgettingtheirreportfinishedontime.Ipreferthe opposite approach: take charge of the conversation, let the star know quite earlythat youdon’t find themas fascinatingas everyoneelse,andsettherulesoftheinterview.
Italwaysworks
Reggie should be backtracking and apologizing for his inappropriate comment by now. The last thing I need is Reggie Turnerassuminghecanrideandcontrolmeforthenextfewmonths
He takes another swigfromhis water bottle,the sweatonhis tattooedarms glisteninginthe lightas he moves,shadows playingontheindentsofhispowerfulchest.“Isignedupforthenationalprofileforonereasononly,”hesays,matter-of-factly. “Myagentmadeitquiteclear thatIhaveanabysmal recordofbranddealsfor ahockeyplayer who’splanningtoretirethis season.SaidIneededtoputmoreofapalatableimageoutthere.”
Furyshootsfromthepitofmystomachtothebackofmyhead “Whatdidyoujustsay?” He is supremelyunconcerned bymyanger. “Imean, lookatyou. You’re wearinga fake pair ofglasses, a boxy, dowdy shirt,andthemostirritatinglyboringskirtintheuniverse IfImetyourandomlysomewhere,I’dassumeyou’reoneofthose womenwhodress poorlybecause theyeither don’thave time todobetter or they’re tryingtoprove some asinine point.But judgingfromthehighlightsinyourhairandyourbrashredlipstick,youdoknowbetter.Youarefashionable.So,I’mforcedto guessthatthisisallafacade.Forwhateverreason,youwanttohideyourrealself.”
Myjawdropstothefloor.
“Are you talking about my ‘happy to not impress you’ outfit?” I snark back “And maybe I’m not in any of the three categoriesyouputoutthere.MaybeI’mjustasinglemomwhodoesn’tcarewhatclotheswillcapturethemalegaze.”
There Thetrumpcard IhatetalkingaboutCarltopeopleIonlyknowonaprofessionalbasis,andIdetestthefactthatI’ve gottousehimtoproveapoint,butIwoulddoanythingtowipethearrogantexpressionoffReggie’sfacerightnow.
“Sure,” he retorts, foldinghis massive arms across his chest, inkwindingaround the veins and the dents ofhis muscles, shiftingwitheverymovement.“ButIshouldgettoknowthewomanwho’sgoingtobefollowingmearoundforthenextcouple ofmonths So,I’mgoingtolayoutexactlywhatIthinkaboutyou,andyoutellmeifI’mclosetothemarkornot”
“Ofbeingseen,”hesaysblankly “You’reawoman,andyou’vegotneeds Hell,everywomanhas needs,singlemomor not. But then, you’re going the opposite way and dressing down because you don’t want to be noticed, especially while workinginanindustryknowntohavelotsofattractivesinglemen.Thatonlymeansonething:thatyou’realreadycertainthat theycannotsatisfyyourneeds”
He takes another step closer, so he is rightinfrontofme. Then, he bends slowly, so his toweringbulkcurves over my frame.“Coulditbe,”hemurmurs,eyespinnedonme,“thatyour needsinbedaredifferentfromthoseofmostwomen?That maybe you want something special? That maybe you’re wary of attracting attention from guys around you because you’re certaintheboynextdoorwouldneverunderstand?”
The heatonmyface is spreadinginwaves throughoutmybody. Itake ragged, harshbreaths as goosebumps rise onmy arms.
EveryonewhowarnedmeaboutReggieTurnerwasright
He isn’t scream-at-you-and-cause-you-to-shit-your-pants terrifying. He is look-at-you-and-know-every-piece-of-yourbeingterrifying
Hedisregardsmywords.“I’mgoingtotrytoguesswhatyoursecretis,”hesays,leaningbacktodrinkmeupinhisgaze. His eyes restunabashedlyonmybreasts, and Imentallykickmyselffor wearingmypushup bra to this meeting He lingers, staringatthemlongerandharderthananyonehasdoneinalongtime.
Myheartmissesabeatbeforeitstartsbangingfranticallyagainstmyribcage Reggie does notseemto know the suddenupheaval his words justcaused inme. He continues onthattrackmercilessly. “Whatisitthen?”heasks,hisvoicelower “Likeitrough?Enjoybeingtoldwhattodo?” Mybrowiscoveredinasheenofsweat.Ishouldsaysomething,tellhimtobackoff.Butmymouthisjammedshut. Especiallyashereachesout,hookstwofingersundermychin,andpullsmyfacetohis.
“Don’t worry,” he mutters, his cold eyes lingeringonmine. “You’re goingto like workingwithme then. Unless you’re alreadyfreakedoutandyou’redesperatetogetsomeoneelsetocoverthisproject.”
Ibarelyhearhiswords I’mthinkingofhowridiculouslycloseheis,thewarmthhistouchisspreadingthroughmybody AndI’mthinkingofhisprevioussentence: Like it rough? Enjoy being told what to do? Yes,myentirebodyiswhispering Yes to both Reggie’spersonalityisnauseating,butIhavenothadsexinsevenyears.Maybethat’swhymyentirebodyistinglingathis touchandwhyatinypartofmybrainiscravingforhimtopounce.Toaskmetogetonmyknees.Toaskmetounziphim.To… Unless you ’ re already freaked out “No.”ThewordspillsoutofmylipsbeforeI’mevenawareofwhatI’msaying. ButIdon’tregretit
“Ineedto um restroom,”hesqueaks,beforeheflingshimselfatthedooroftheoffice,yanksitopen,andslamsitshut behindhim.Icanalmosthearthesighofreliefheletsloosethemomentthereisadoorseparatingus.
“Icannotdo the profile withHarper Morris.” Iredirectthe conversationbackto the matter athand. “I’d rather we find someoneelsethanenduretwowholemonthsofherfollowingmearound”
“Because,”hedragsouttheword,“thisisliterallyyour lastchancetoshow thecountrythatyou’remorethantheperson theythinkyouare a woman-lovingdickhead, whose onlyredeemingqualityis the fact that he canmaneuver the puckand outskatehisopponents.”
Paul’s angstseems to be growing. “Because youdon’tlisten,” he spits. “Look, this year has beengood for you. You’ve pulledinatonofmoney.Butallofthat’sgoingtostopinafewmonths.EveryathleteintheUSknowsthis.Allyouhavetodo nowistosecureenoughlifelongbranddeals,soyou’llbesetupfortherestofyourlife But ”
Paul ignores mysarcasm “Whatyoumightnotknow is how manybrand deals he gotfromthatalone,” he says “That’s whatadvertiserswant.Someonetheycantrust.Someonerelatable.Someonewhocanconvincepeopletobuytheirproducts.” Isaginmyseat.Interactingwithothers usuallytires me outafter a while.EventalkingtoPaul has its limits.Especially whenhekeepsdroningonaboutbranddeals.
There are several reasons Harper Morris gets on my nerves. One, she is hot. Long, wavy brown hair that frames her diamond-shapedfaceinthemostdelicateofways,hugeboobsspillingoutofabra,andhipsthatswaywhenshewalks Even herdowdyoutfitmadeherlookthatmuchhotter.Shelookedlikethesexylibrarianinaporno.Sheisatinylittlething,butshe alsohasasortofetherealconfidencethatmakesherlookbiggerthanshereallyis Whenshewalkedintomygym,thefirstthingIthoughtaboutwashowtogethertogooutwithme. Shewasscorchinghot I’venever hadtobearoundawomanthatlookslikethatwhileknowingthatI’mnotsupposedto pursueher.
Icouldhavegottenoverthat,Isuppose.
Until Igota hunchabouther sexual preferences Itwas a combinationofhow she carriedherself,her clothes,combined withastronggutfeeling.IjustknewIwasright.
AlthoughI have sexwitha lot of women, I rarelyenjoyit deeplybeyond the initial release Routine sexis especially boring.Foryears,I’velookedformorethanwhatmanywomencouldofferme.WhichiswhyIfinditsoeasytogetridofthem afterward.
IlookupatPaul’sconfusedface “Ican’tdoitwithHarperMorris,”Itellhim “Ijustcan’t” “Toughluck.” He looks completelyspent. “Lookat it this way. You’ve got two choices. Get over yourself, impress the woman,andcausehertodoaprofileonyouthat’llsendadvertisersrunningyourwayandsettingyouupforlife.Orletgoof thechancetobefeaturedonthebiggestonlinemagazineintheUSandbeforcedtowaittablesintenyears Yourchoice” Istareathim,hatinghiscandor,butknowingdeepdownheisright.
Ihad painstakinglyplanned for this conversationnotto happen Came home fromworkwiththirtyminutes to sparebeforetheeveningrush.EvendecidedtoskipgettinggroceriesbecauseitmeantIcouldslipintomyapartmentwithout beingnoticed.
“Hello, Matt” Franticallypushingonthe elevator button, myinsides are alreadyclawingatme, demandingIgetas far awayfromhimasIpossiblycan.
“Haven’tbeenseeingyouaroundlately.”Hiseyesareearnestashedrawsclosertome.“Iwasworriedaboutyou…and Carl How’shedoing?”
At the mention of Carl, my frigid heart melts some. How could it not? Matt is everything any woman would want successful,attentive,goodlooking Andhealwaysasksaboutmyson Hewouldmakeaperfectstepfather.Justlikehe’sbeenhintingforyearsnow. Butwhileheisstunninglyattractive,thereisaproblem
“Sure Sayhitohimforme Butbeforeyougo,I’dliketoask ” Idon’tlethimfinishthatdreaded sentence. The elevator doors part, and Islip into the cabin, pressingthe buttonto my floorasquicklyasIcan Oncethedoorsclose,Iheaveasighofrelief.
You’re wary of attracting men because you ’ re scared they won’t be able to understand you Thewordshitmelikeapunchtomytemple. Iblink,almostabouttolookaroundforwhojustsaidthem. ButIrememberamomentlater Iclosemyeyesandletoutagrunt,frustrationgrowingquicklyinsideme.
Mypulseraces as Iremember thefeel ofhis fingers tuckedunderneathmychin.Hehadn’tdonemuch,merelyraisedmy facetohis.
ButthatsingularactionwasenoughtomakemeunderstandthatReggieisaboutthestrongestalphamaleIhavemetinmy life.
AndIloveit
Myheart is clamoringwildlyagainst myribcage. Insevenyears, I had not met a manI thought could matchmysexual energy Butmybodyistellingmethat,ifgiventhechance,Reggiecould EvenifheisthebiggestassholeonplanetEarth AndalthoughIwantedtopersuademyselfthatIwasimmune,thatIwassafe,IhavetoadmitI’mnot.
It isn’t just that Reggie is a stunning man. Through my work, I meet a lot of athletes and celebrities. People who are powerful,domineering,strong ButthereissomethingelseaboutReggie Thethoughtofhimtakingchargeisdizzying Andknowingthatscaresme.Alot.
AsIstepoutoftheelevator,I’mdebatingiftakingthisjobistherightthing Iputmykeyinthelockandturnit.ThemomentIstepintomytidytwo-bedroomapartment,IhearCarlscreamforme. “Mommy!” he yells, and everysingle thoughtofReggie is forgottenas mysoncomes runningtoward me and wraps his stickylittlehandsaroundmywaist.
Mychestconstricts,andIpushthefeelingaway LookingdownatCarl,Iaskhimcheerfully,“Howwasschooltoday?” “Great!” he yells, with all the exuberance of a six-year-old. “But Grandma’s having problems helping me with my assignment.”
“Hesayshistreeisskewed,”mymothermutters “Thatit’sgotonlyonebranch,andallofhisfriendshavetwo” Herwordsdigaholeinthecenterofmychest.Itakeadeepbreath,tryinghardtomaintainasmuchcalmasIcan.“Carl can’tbethefirstchildthatevergrewupwithoutafather Theteacherswillknowhowtoexplainthatfamiliesaredifferent” “Harper.” My mother breaks out her rarely used stern voice. “It’s not about the assignment anymore. Don’t you get it? Beforeyoucamein,hewasaskingquestionsabouthisfather”Shelingersinsilenceforamoment Alargerholeformsinmychest.
Fatigueweighsheavilyonmyshoulders,andIslipintoachair.Everythingshesaidtonightcutsdeep. “I’mtryingmyhardesttoprovideforhim.”Ihatemyvoiceforsuddenlybreaking.“Andit’sfreakingdifficult.” “Iknowthat”Asympatheticgazecrossesherface “ButCarlhasalwaysgottobeyourfirstpriority” “He is.” Myvoice is turningshrill. “That’s whyI’ve beenpullingall these longshifts. Because I want to get himinto privateschoolassoonaspossible”
Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know the truth, either “Hey!”Carl’svoiceringsbehindme,interruptingmytrainofthought.“Foundthegreencrayon.Whatdidyouneeditfor, Grandma?”
Whilelockerroombanter,teamhuddles,andgroupdinnersareall tiresomeintheirownway,thisoneis special And when it is the first game of the season, even more so. Everyone is in a mood so hopeful and happy it makes mine positivelyfoul,astheyalltradestoriesfromthelastseasonorhowgoodourchancesare.
IkeepmypositionasfarawayfromthehubrisasIcan,myarmsfoldedandmybackupagainstthewall Myteammatesare chatteringand jokinglike a bunchofpreschoolers. Thankfully, not a single one walks up to askme questions about myoff seasonorwhatIplantodowhenwegetofftheplane
Iraise mybrows, silentlyurgingher to go back Sure, abouta dozenattendants have approached me like this, and they alwayshadthesamereason.Abouthalfthosetimes,Iwasinterestedenoughtosqueezemyselfinthedamnedplanetoiletand getiton.Ienjoyeddoingthatonceortwice,butmostofthetime,thesexwasmediocre,maybealittleboring.
“I canhardlyremember what happened that day.” I refuse to backdownas hurt mounts inher eyes. “But I thought you understoodwhatI’msureIsaid thatwhateverhappenedbetweenuswasaone-timething”
AsIopenmymouthtoreply,myeyescatchsightofHarperMorris,sittingononeoftheloungechairsbehindErnest Her fakeglassesareperchedonhernoseandherhairisupinaprimponytail.Sheisdressedinapuffyblousethatdoesnothingto hidetheupthrustofherbreasts,andhermatronlyA-lineskirtgoesdowntoherknees
Thesmiledisappearsfromher face.“I’mdoingmyjob.Youknow,thejobyour agentbegged PulsePixel to consider for months The one thatinvolves anhonestprofile aboutyou, so our viewers canknow everythingthere is to know And right now,”shesays,raisingherhandsanddroppingthemagain,“you’renotgivingusmuchofaninsidepeek.Yourdramawiththat flightattendantisprettymuchthesameoldstoryeveryoneknowsaboutyoubyheart.”
Becauseheisabsolutelyright Iwanttoknowwhathistouchfeelslike. Lettinghimhavemeisoffthetable.Butmaybethereisabitoffuntobehadbydancingnearthecliff. His fingers push into my pocket and find my notepad, but they don’t close around it Instead, he pushes backward, his fingersscrapingmybum.
“And whenIfinallysee younaked…” He reaches out casuallyand pulls me in, his fingers heavyonmyass. Mylungs constrictasmybreastsarecrushedagainsthispowerfulchest“…you’regoingtobebeggingmetoclaimyou.AndI’mgoing tofuckyousogood,you’llforgeteverythingbuthowtomakemehappy EvenifitmeanswritingonlywhatItellyouto” Heletsgoofme,movesmeawayfromthedoor,andslipsoutthroughit.
Irecall the flightattendant, the wretchedness inher gaze as Reggie refused to acknowledge her and she stormed away. I was sorryfor her and angryatReggie ButIalso feltslightlyicky Iwondered whyshe feltthe need to go to himwhenshe probablyknewthekindofpersonheis.Reggieisdeathlyattractive,butthereareamillionotherguysoutthere.Hemightbe masterfulatsex,butthereisnowayheisthatgood.
Butmaybe itisn’tjustaboutthat Itcould be the raw, unmatched power he exudes Suchthatcould make anywoman includingme dowhathewantsregardlessofherowndesires.
IamstartingtounderstandtheappealofReggieTurner
REGGIE
Themomentthebuzzergoesoff,myteammateseruptinanuproarthatreverberatesaroundthestadium Iskateawayfrom themessofscreamingandhuggingbodiesbeforeitgetstoodamnmuchtohandle.Handingmystickovertheglasstoa randomkid,Ileavetheicefor thewidepassagewaythatleadsdirectlyintothelocker room Iappreciatethatall the fansstreamingfromthebleacherskeepawideberthastheyruntotherink.
Ever since we came to Boston, mymood has takena positivelyhorrible turn, whichis impressive, consideringit was alreadyawful Buteverylittlethingaboutthiscityfuelsarageinsideme,andeverycellinmybodyisitchingtogetaway Notevenwinningour firstgame ofthe seasonhas appeased me. And rightnow, Iamdesperate to getbackto myhotel room,takeahotshower,andsleepforhoweverlongittakestowashthetirednessoffme “Goodgame.”
The time we shared inthe bathroomwas a clusterfuck. WhenI touched her, a current of electricityzipped throughme, turningmycocktogranite. Athickcoilofhairunraveledoverhershoulder,brushingmyarm,andthescentofhershotmeinto anearcatatonicstate,leavingmewithaburningandoverwhelmingneedtoclaimher. Ontopofit,shedidnotseemscaredlikesheshouldhave AndwhileIwantalotofwomen,Harperisdifferent.Primarilybecauseeveryaspectofherpersonalityiseerilysimilarto mine Sheissomeonewhowantstobeincontrol
“Yeah,” he says “She’s inthe little café bythe stadiumwaitingfor you Ifyoudon’twanther askingthe teamquestions aboutyou,meethertheresoyoucanfinallystarttotalk.Yougettotellherwhattowriteaboutallbyyourself.”
Twentyminutes later, I’msittingacross fromher ina nauseatinglycutesycafé I have never walked into before. She is wearinga matronlydress thatfalls below her knees Her wavybrownhair is ina tightupdo atthe crownofher head Her beautifulfaceisbareofmakeup,butsheisstillspottinghertrademarkredlipstick.
Her innocent smile is still in place as she looks up at me. “Well, being shady about your upbringing usually points to somethingdarkerunderneath.I’mjustmakinganoteofthat.”
Awarylookwashesoverherfeatures “I’mnot goingto propose yousit onmyface.” I grinas she turns cherryred. “Youanswer a questionof mine for any questionyouwanttoaskme.”
Thewarinessinhergazeincreases Good MaybethisgamewillworkevenquickerthanIexpected “InevertoldyouIhaveason.”
“Youjustlooklikeaboymommy”
Sheletsoutasharpbreath.“Idon’tevenwanttoknowwhatthat’ssupposedtomean.”Shepauses,asifweighingthepros and cons ofgoingalongwiththis game. “Mysonis six,” she says throughgritted teeth. “Myturn. Is your lackoflong-term commitmenttoromanticrelationshipsachoice,or dowomenfindyouutterlyrepulsivebecauseyouassumeyouknow every littlethingaboutthem?”
Itake her hand inmine, brushingmythumb over her knuckles and fixingmygaze onhers. It’s softand small againstmy callousedskin Therestofherprotestseemstodieinherthroat
“I’ll take thatchallenge.” Ithrow a cursoryglance atthe restaurantaround us. We are tucked ina corner, awayfromthe attentionofeveryoneelse Stillsittingdown,Idragmychairtowardthetable Harperletsoutasmallgaspasmykneesbrush hers.
“Youdon’tmindifItouchyouthisway,doyou?”MyeyesarenotleavinghersasIreachoverherunnecessarilylowhem, slippingpasther toned legs and slidingupward. Imightlike to playrough, butnotwithoutconsent. Her eyes are trained on mine,andIgofurther,untilI’mbrushingagainstthelowerpartofherinnerthigh.
“That you want this.” As I slide my fingers higher, I expect to brush against her panties, maybe even some granny underwearthatIwouldhavetopushaside.
ButImeetnothing.
She is completelybare underneath Nopanties,nohair Myfingers are brushingagainsther slick,pulsingcunt Aroil of heatwashesoverme,whileallthebloodfrommyheadrushessouth,makingmelightheaded.
“Youfeelamazing,”Igrowl,notbreakingeyecontact Hereyesarehalfclosed,herlipsparted,assheshamelesslygrinds againstmypalm. “Is all this creaminess for me, baby?” Ismile as Ipushmyfingers into her,almostlosingthe lastshred of control
Isaynothing,insteadslidingmyfingersinandoutofher,pinchingherclit Harper’steetharejammedtogether,likesheis tryinghard notto letouta traitorous sound. Buther core is pulsingaround myfingers, quickening. She is grindingher hips againstmypalmnow,andI’mabouttolosemymindimagininghowshewouldfeelwrappedaroundme
“Letgo for me, baby. Letme see youcome undone for me.” Ileaninto her, whispering, as Igraze mylips over her ear, bitinghergently.Herpussyconvulsesaroundmyfingersinapowerfulorgasm.Istrokeherclit,brushingitwithmythumbuntil shestopsshivering Mydickishard,andittakesallofmyrestraintnottowhiskherbacktomyhotelroom
Ishakemyhead “That’sjustmoreofthesameold EveryoneknowsReggieTurnercanbeabitofanasshole Ithoughtthis profile was supposed to go deeper.” While I could not care less about branding Reggie as a sympathetic character to an audience,writingahalf-assedprofileisnotgoingtobodewellformypromotion
“Harper,” Dora chides, and Icantell her frustrationis mounting. “Youcan’twrite anin-depthprofile onsomeone who doesn’t want to openup to you. He’s got to saysomething. And we can’t wait around for himmuchlonger. We’re wasting preciousresourcesbykeepingyouthere.”
Myheartmisses a beatas fear ricochets throughmybody. Pullingme outofhere would meanwaymore thanlosingthe chance to write Reggie Turner’s profile Itwould also meanlosingmyjob promotionand never gettingCarl into a private school.Andthatmeanseverythingtome.
MybraingoesintopanicmodeasIthinkofsomething,anything,togetDoratonotgothroughwithpullingmeoutofhere I knowsheisrightaboutmywastingresources.
After tryingeverythinginmypower to make Reggie talkover the pastfew days, Icame up withnothing He is greatat deflectingandinitiatingsexualconversationstoavoidspeakingabouthimself.Andlikeafool,Ifallforiteverysingletime.
Myheartratequickens Idon’twanttousemyselfasbaitforthisprofile,butIwilldoanythingtoavoidbeingcalledback to New York and losing my promotion. Making sure my son enjoys the advantages of a good education is worth the embarrassmentoftryingtoseduceReggietogethimtotalk.
AndmaybeIwouldonlyhavetoplaythiscardonce AllIneedisenoughinformationtogetmestartedonthearticle Once Iknowwhatheishiding,itwouldbemucheasiertokeepDorahappyforthenextfewweeks.
ONE HOUR LATER, I’mstandinginfrontofLa Torte, a private club and today’s hangoutspotfor the New YorkRangers My palmsarecoldwithsweatasIsteppastthebouncersandintothedimlylitclubinterior.
Icatchsightofmyselfina reflective mirror bythe side ofthe mainhall I’mdressed ina tight, black, offthe shoulder dress,myhairinloosewavesthatspilldownmyback.
“Whatdidn’the do?” Ernest drawls as he snags the new bottle fromthe bartender. “Everythingwas fine until he got a weirdtextaroundbreaktime Turnedhimintoamonster andthat’ssayingsomething,consideringhowheisonanormalday” Ineedtoknowmore.“Whodoyouthinkthetextwasfrom?”
“Says here he was booked yesterday for being in possession of a deadly weapon,” she says. “Bail’s been set at forty grand”
Forafractionofasecond,Iconsiderwhatitwouldfeelliketolethimrotinherealittlelonger.Butthen,whenIclosemy eyestoproperlyrelishthemoment,theimagethatpopsupistheblue,white,andredshieldoftheNew YorkRangers What wouldhappentotheteamifthenewsgotout?
