Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Nolan

I stood at the urinal in the bathroom, taking care of business, while my thoughts wandered to the giant mountain of douchebaggery I'd left at the dinner table. Mitch Redding was an absolute tool and had the personality of a soggy piece of bread. What in the world had Zena ever seen in him? It made no sense.

As I continued to ponder the mysteries of Zena's past romantic choices, the bathroom door swung open. I didn't need to look to know who it was. The air suddenly felt thicker, like it was being pushed aside by an oversized ego wrapped in an expensive suit.

"If you're here to challenge me to a pissing contest, I'm not interested," I said as I zipped up my pants.

"You've got a smart mouth on you," Mitch growled, his voice low and menacing. "You'd better watch yourself."

I turned and met Mitch's glare in the mirror as I lathered up my hands with soap. "Can I help you with something?"

His face contorted into a scrutinizing scowl. "Something's not right with this picture. Zena would never go for a pretty boy like you. You're not her type. What did you do to get her to like you?"

I rinsed my hands, grabbed a paper towel, and turned to face him as I dried off. "I'm flattered you think I'm pretty, Mitch, but I'm spoken for."

He ground his teeth. "You may think you're funny, but I'll be the one cracking up when Zena dumps you and comes back to me. Enjoy it while it lasts because it won't last long. Mark my words."

"Sorry to break the news to you, but Zena has already gone through her caveman phase, and now prefers men who don't grunt when they talk and drag their knuckles when they walk," I said.

I felt a slight twinge of guilt for perpetuating the deception, but Mitch's troglodyte-like behavior made it easier to play my part. And if it helped Zena escape the clutches of someone like him, maybe there was some good coming out of this charade after all. Still, it felt like I was walking a fine line between helping and hurting. I hoped that when all was said and done, I'd be able to look at myself in the mirror without regret.

I also knew I had to be careful how much and when I poked the bear. I'd met my share of egotistical jerks back in my hockey days, but Mitch was a different breed, even more massive, powerful, and relentless than I had ever encountered. I was still in decent shape, but I'd have been a fool to go toe-to-toe with him. It would not have ended well for me, I knew that. Still, I had no other option than to stick with the plan if I wanted to keep my job, plus help Zena. I just didn't want to die or end up disfigured in the process.

"I'm warning you …" Mitch stepped closer, looming over me like an unbalanced sequoia tree with anger management issues.

"Take it easy—you don't want to end up in jail and miss your first game with the team tomorrow," I said, throwing my hands up in defense and slipping on a wet spot on the floor in front of the sink.

My arms flailed in the air like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel. In a moment of panic-induced decisions, I latched onto the nearest lifeline—Mitch's silk tie.

Big mistake.

We went down like a two-man circus act gone horribly wrong. First, a graceless slam against the counter that would definitely leave a bruise on my ribs, followed by a spectacular tumble to the floor that ended with me on my back and Mitch on top of me with his face plastered against my chest like a misplaced postage stamp.

For one surreal moment, all I could think was, His cologne actually smells pretty good up close. I wonder who the designer is.

I tried to gather my bearings, but because the universe had a wicked sense of humor, the bathroom door swung open. Mr. Dalton stepped inside, his eyes growing wider by the second as he took in the scene: Mitch straddling me on the floor.

"What in the name of Caesar's ghost is going on in here?" he demanded, his voice a mix of shock and exasperation.

I looked up at Mr. Dalton, still dazed, but croaked out, "Apparently, Mitch has been harboring a secret crush on me. I tried to let him down gently since I'm spoken for, but he would not take no for an answer. Unrequited love can be so awkward."

Mitch grunted right on cue. "This isn't what it looks like." He crawled off me and straightened out his tie.

Mr. Dalton pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like a man who'd rather be anywhere else. "Explain yourselves."

"I was using the facilities," I said as I got back to my feet and motioned to the urinals. "Not sure what Mitch was up to, though. Bathroom buddy system, maybe?"

Mitch jabbed a finger in my direction as his nostrils flared. "This guy needs to shut his pie hole. I don't like his attitude."

Mr. Dalton sighed. "Obviously, you two don't exactly see eye-to-eye, and I doubt there is anything I can do to change that. But let me make one thing crystal clear: if either of you does anything stupid, including laying a finger on the other person, you'll find yourselves unemployed. I've got too many important things on my plate at the moment, and this is the last thing I need to worry about. Got it?"

I nodded, while Mitch grunted something else that might have been an agreement.

"Now, let's get back and finish our dinner before my steak gets cold," Mr. Dalton added.

Mitch snarled at me and then walked out the door. I was just about to follow right behind him, but didn't get far.

"Nolan? I'd like a word with you," Mr. Dalton said.

Surprised, I stopped and turned around. "Yes?"

Mr. Dalton's eyes narrowed. "You're getting awfully handsy with my daughter. I saw a very disturbing video of you two kissing, and you looked a little too comfortable with your performance. If you think this is your chance to get lucky, you are playing with fire. Remember, she's my pride and joy, and I will do whatever it takes to protect her. Do I make myself clear?"

I fought the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. "Sir, I don't know what video you're talking about, but I'm only carrying out the favor you requested of me. You wanted me to date her, and that's what I'm doing. And for the record, Zena was the one who asked me to kiss her."

"She confirmed that," he conceded, his tone still icy.

"You also told me to follow her lead," I said, treading carefully. "I believe your exact words were, ‘If she tells you to jump, ask how high.'"

Mr. Dalton nodded. "I said that as well, but I don't want you to get any ideas, Nolan. This is all pretend, nothing more. You and Zena, you're from different worlds."

I felt a flash of indignation. "Because I drive a Zamboni instead of a Ferrari?"

"Now, don't go twisting my words?—"

"With all due respect, sir," I interrupted, "I may not have a fortune, but I have integrity. Isn't that what you're banking on for this entire scheme? The last thing on my mind is actually wanting to hook-up with Zena or take advantage of the situation. I will not do anything that would jeopardize my job, and right now, my only goal is to help you get to the finals and win it all. After that, I'll happily return to my peaceful and ordinary life."

A beat of silence passed between us.

Unexpectedly, Mr. Dalton's expression softened. "Good." He clapped me on the back with enough force to almost make me slip again. "Let's get back to dinner. And Nolan?"

"Yes, sir?" I said.

"You've got more spine than I gave you credit for. Just don't let it go to your head. Mitch Redding takes no prisoners, even with my threat, so watch your back."

I nodded. "I understand, sir."

As we headed back to the table, I couldn't help but think this fake relationship was one heck of a balancing act between Zena, Mitch, and Mr. Dalton. I sat back down in my chair and forced a smile at the others before taking a bite of my shrimp linguine, like nothing ever happened in the bathroom. Zena was silent, but kept glancing at me as I chewed.

Finally, she leaned closer and whispered, "Are you okay? Did he touch you?"

"We could not keep our hands off each other," I joked, although it was not far from the truth, considering the compromising position we ended up in. "But seriously, it's nothing you need to worry about. I'm fine."

Zena glanced across the table, then whispered, "Mitch's left eye is twitching. And when Mitch has the twitch, he's not a happy camper, which means he's going to find any way possible to channel that anger."

I shot a glance at him, and sure enough, his left eye was in full-blown twitch mode, as if he were trying to send an SOS in Morse code. I'd seen that twitch before, but only on the ice, usually right before Mitch laid someone out with a bone-crushing check.

I leaned closer and whispered back, "I'll tell you what happened later, but don't worry."

"Nolan—in case you didn't know, I've always wanted to ride the Zamboni," Mrs. Dalton said out of nowhere.

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. "Well, say the word and I'll give you the VIP Zamboni tour. We can even attempt the world's slowest two-person donut if you're feeling adventurous."

She smiled in delight. "Oh, count me in! After years of stuffy high-society events and board meetings, a spin on the Zamboni sounds like just the ticket to add some zing to my life. Someone will need to take a video, of course. Special events are worth recording, so we can relive the excitement of the moment again in the future, don't you think?" She winked.

I had a sneaking suspicion Mrs. Dalton had seen the kissing video, but it was good to know she did not have a problem with it.

"Absolutely," I said. "I'll make sure it happens."

It was clear where Zena got her joyful and sassy spirit from, and I looked forward to that promised Zamboni ride with her.

I leaned toward Zena again and kept my voice low. "Speaking of videos, I hear there's one of us kissing."

"You didn't see it?" Zena asked, a hint of color rising in her cheeks.

I shook my head. "Your father mentioned it in the bathroom after Mitch walked out. Is it on social media?"

"It most certainly is, and I would like to apologize in advance. Brace yourself." She pulled her phone from her purse, keeping it near her lap as she found the video and showed me.

I watched with a grin. "Well, well, well. Look at us go. I'd say we deserve an Oscar for that performance."

Zena bit her lip, looking slightly embarrassed. "You're not mad?"

"Are you kidding?" I said, leaning in closer. "That is a mighty impressive kiss. Can we watch it again? This time, put it in slow motion so I can see the exact moment you tried to climb me like a tree."

Zena laughed, her cheeks now a delightful shade of pink as she bumped my shoulder with hers. "Stop it." She quickly stuffed the phone back into her purse. "It was just a test. Don't make it any more than it was."

"Oh, of course," I nodded solemnly, before leaning in to whisper, "Can I retake the test? If you're willing to be my study buddy, I'm sure I can do better next time."

Zena rolled her eyes, but I caught the hint of a smile playing at her lips. "You're incorrigible."

As the staff efficiently cleared away our dinner plates, a server approached with dessert menus. After a brief perusal, we placed our orders.

Mrs. Dalton's eyes sparkled as she looked between Zena and me. "You two ordered the same entrée for dinner, and now you've both chosen the mud pie for dessert. It's like you're always in sync."

I nodded, shooting Zena a warm smile. "It's rather cute, isn't it?"

"Adorable," Mitch interjected with enough sarcasm to fill a hot tub.

"Hey now, don't feel left out, big guy," I said to him. "Tell you what, next time we can coordinate as well. How about we both show up to the game tomorrow wearing tutus? I bet you'd rock a pink one. We could pirouette our way right into the playoffs."

The table erupted in laughter, except for Mitch, who looked like he was contemplating the pros and cons of strangling me with the tablecloth. As the amusement subsided, I had decided I was done poking the bear for the evening. Mr. Dalton's pointed gaze confirmed the feeling in my gut, a silent command for me to stand down. We'd pushed Mitch to the edge, and now the real test loomed before us, with the game against the Sharks.

As I lifted my spoon, the weight of tomorrow's stakes settled on my shoulders. Each bite of mud pie marked another second ticking away, bringing us closer to the moment of truth. The Sea Lions' season, my job, this entire charade—it all hinged on Mitch's performance on the ice.

No pressure, right?