Chapter 19

19

JACK

Not two seconds after I reach Ella, where she perches on the arm of a chair next to Leah, a perfumed cloud of women surrounds us. Bark Wahlburger growls from a distance.

I’ll confess that in the past, I let myself give into this kind of temptation, but it always left me feeling empty. With Ella confidently sporting my jersey that highlights her curves, paired with those killer jeans that accentuate her shape, I’m completely captivated. I cannot resist her sense of humor, effortless charm, and radiant smile. She’s woven a spell around me—I’m hooked.

Before I can greet her properly now that I’m no longer covered in hockey glitter, aka sweat, the puck bunnies purr my name, most of them calling me “Jackie.” I don’t mind if Carlos calls me Juan or my teammates refer to me by my last name, but only my mother called me Jackie and that’s the way it’s going to stay.

“It’s Jack,” I say.

“Okay, Jack Attack,” one teases.

“Jack the Flash,” another says .

I thought I’d made my position clear when I blew that kiss after my third goal. I can’t claim this is a love-at-first-sight situation. Far from it. Probably. It’s just that something lit inside of me when I saw her there, cheering me while wearing my name, my number.

The decision hit me with the force of a puck slamming into the goal. I’m done with the Storm. A new team awaits and having Ella pose as my girlfriend could help with that.

There are only a few of my peers dumb enough to try to make a move on a woman wearing another player’s jersey—if he asked her to wear it. However, the puck bunnies aren’t so discerning. One drapes herself over my arm. Another tries to link her hand in mine. A third slinks her arm around my shoulders while trying to balance on the back of the chair where Ella sits and they nearly topple over.

Leah springs to her feet and bolsters the chair, muttering, “Hey, watch where you park that thing.” She runs interception, distracting the puck bunnies with shiny objects.

Ella gets to her feet, eyes wide and edges toward the nearest exit.

Following and in a low voice so only she can hear, I say, “Please play along.”

The space between her eyebrows bunches up. “Play along? That was my first hockey game. I don’t even know what counts as a penalty.”

I lean close, inhaling her cocoa butter scent. I whisper, “I mean pretend to be my girlfriend.”

“Your fake girlfriend?” she says the middle word slowly.

My nod is rapid as the women blast me with questions and suggestions that we take the party elsewhere. In the puck bunny culture, one will assert herself and the rest will scatter. But Ella doesn’t know that.

However, Leah is well versed in this strange ritual and has a bunch of bossy siblings, so she doesn’t tolerate nonsense. Straightening to her full height—she’s an inch taller than Carlos, which has been a point of contention for them—she says, “Excuse me, ladies. Who is wearing Jack’s jersey?”

They fall quiet and look down at themselves as if they don’t recall what they have on. Then their attention turns to Ella. She raises her hand meekly, which is not a show of dominance to which these women will respond favorably. I don’t blame her. She’s been thrown to the wolves, er, puck bunnies, who can be just as vicious.

Ultimately, I have the last word here. “Ella is wearing my jersey, so if you’ll excuse us,” I say, attempting to be civil when really what I want to shout is, Stop being so petty and territorial. Find your own hockey player. I’m taken.

But I’m not … unless Ella wants me for more than my money. This is but one of the many things that makes me worry and wonder. But she seemed peeved earlier, so I’m not sure where we stand other than in the center of a circle of women whose perfume threatens to make me sneeze.

To be fair, I welcomed the puck bunny’s advances for years. Something shifted after Mom died. I was lost, wandering in grief, and then Ella appeared like an oasis in the desert, er, the dunes. Sure, I’ve dated since then, but I also spend a fair amount of time hiding in supply closets.

One of the women clicks her tongue. “So, she’s the new Puck Princess, huh?”

“You’re officially dating?” another asks me as if refusing to believe it.

Carlos barges his way through the crowd, impervious to the show of skin, given his unfailing devotion to Marisol. If only she returned his affections. But that’s a match to make at another time.

The Smith siblings form a human wall, stopping the puck bunnies from following us, but hopefully, they’ll get the hint and won’t take the snub too hard. They can be brutal on social media.

Ella and I cross the room.

“It was Carlos’s idea, mostly. I mentioned I asked you to wear my jersey, and he jumped immediately to a marriage of convenience, which is different from an arranged marriage, which is my father’s move.” I pump my hands, demonstrating that I put on the brakes even though my heart does something weird when I’m with Ella like it’s skidding ahead, careening toward her.

Pale, she blinks slowly as if the words are slow to compute. “Why?”

“As Carlos put it, my reputation needs repairing. An Rx. Also, my father wants me to marry a duchess.”

“So I’d be your decoy?”

“Something like that.”

“After everything that happened with Slater, I told myself that I would never be with a billionaire.”

Tension tightens along my neck at the mention of that loser. “I’m a real billionaire. Slater was an imposter, so technically, he doesn’t count.”

“But it’ll be fake?”

I take her hands in mine, realizing that if anyone is watching, this must look like the prelude to an intimate moment rather than an off-the-wall conversation.

“Like in the pool, we said we’d be someone else. We’ll go on dates. Do couple stuff.” I tilt my head to the side. “We kind of already have. So it’s not a huge leap,” I add, thinking about the times we’ve kissed.

“But why—?” she starts to repeat.

“You’ll help me look good and I’ll get those bills taken care of. It’s a win-win. ”

She tips her head back with laughter. “I’ll help you look good?”

My brow dips. “Yeah.”

She eyes the crowd that’s grown. Carlos and Leah have lost ground with the puck bunnies. They could be a problem. Then again, Ella doesn’t have a phone yet. At the moment, I don’t care what they do since my career is already in shambles. So I’m willing to take the risk.

The siblings bicker as they approach, which isn’t anything unusual. They’ll hate each other for an hour and then be best friends the next.

Hardly moving her lips, Leah says to her brother, “You and I are going to have a conversation later.”

He must’ve mentioned the proposal, well, the idea that Ella and I pretend to be dating. I take it Leah does not approve.

Carlos slings his arm around Ella. “She’s part of the family now, if you mess with her, you mess with me.”

Leah’s nostrils flare and she flicks him on the arm. “I’m not going to mess with her. Just you and your dummy dumb dumb ideas.”

Ella’s eyes grow somehow wider as if she doesn’t want to come between the siblings.

Carlos narrows his eyes and then fires a glare at me. “Anyway, I think it’s brilliant. Solves two problems.”

He’s an affable guy and I’ve never gotten on his bad side, that I know of, but the Smiths are fiery, so I don’t dare cross them.

The next game I face is between Team Retirement and Team Trade. Both affect him and me, although I haven’t officially announced my decision yet, Carlos must know that I’m leaning in a direction. It would make sense to consult him, but it’s like if I just carry on and pretend my life isn’t about to change, I can cling to the little fantasy that everything is normal.

Ella isn’t smiling and people are not so discretely taking pictures of us with their phones.

Carlos notices, too, and says, “First, maybe the two of you should finish your conversation. Somewhere private.”

As if once more on the same side, Leah claps her brother on the shoulder, then stares down the enemy. Through gritted teeth, she says, “We’ll run interference.”

“We got you,” he adds.

It must be nice to have someone in your corner. My gaze floats to Ella.

Leah hands her the last cookie on her plate. “Take this. You may need protection.”

With a straight face, Ella replies, “Thank you for the cookie armor. But I also have Bark Wahlburger.”

Amusement rises inside because I’ve never met a woman with a sense of humor like Ella’s and who’s so pretty and smart and everything I didn’t realize I wanted.