Chapter 6

Delia droppedher gaze from the mirror and grabbed a make-up wipe from the half-empty pouch to clean off her lipstick. She swivelled away from the tall, dark, and handsome man standing in her green room doorway and swiped her lips.

This had to be the most awkward experience of her life. Worse than the time a singing telegram showed up in her office and performed for her alone—dressed as a sexy Mountie—while the accounting team waited with a very confused Barb, the actual birthday girl, in the boardroom on the next floor up.

"Incredible show as always." Tony pulled a stool from the opposite wall and set it on the other side of the low coffee table for his assistant, then grabbed one for himself.

Delia turned from the mirror before she rubbed her skin raw. "Thanks."

"When did you start playing ‘Oubliet' live again?" Tony asked.

She tensed. Why had she played "Oubliet"? It definitely hadn't been an intentional choice. She'd planned on ending with "Trial" like she usually did. It was high energy and one of her top-streamed singles, but tonight . . .

Delia stole a glance at Jack who sat next to a woman with dark hair pulled into a low bun. They were obviously siblings, with the same dark eyes and features, but Jack had a stronger jaw and a deeper furrow to his brows. She wondered if their noses used to be the same before hockey.

Why was she looking at Jack? Right. Because something she'd seen in his expression had made her change the song. What had she seen there? Delia forced her gaze back to Tony and Kels. "You're not going to pass that on, are you?"

Tony shot her a look. "I'm not a nark, but I don't have to be. You know a hundred people recorded that performance and are already posting to their TikTok accounts."

Delia pursed her lips, and Mary jumped in. "IndieLake knows you built a following on those old songs. Christian has never said you couldn't play your personal stuff."

"You wrote that?" Jack"s voice was low, but not a full bass. More in a baritone register with a bit of fray around the edges. She loved a raspy voice. There was a TikToker, Ethan Hayes, from Calgary that had popped up on her feed a few weeks ago who sounded like a mix of Teddy Swims and Brian Adams. She was still working up the courage to message him and see if he wanted to collaborate. Of course, that would be a lot easier if IndieLake was open to any of her own music instead of purchasing songs from other writers.

Delia looked up. Jack was watching her. What was the question again? Right. He'd asked if she'd written "Oubliet." She nodded. "It was one of my first."

Jack's eyes stayed locked on hers, and just when she thought he was going to open his mouth, Tony cut in. "This is Jack Harrison and his sister Clara . . ."

"Renault." Clara gave a small wave.

Delia tried to keep her lips from twitching. Was she smiling normally? "Nice to meet you."

Mary coughed next to her, and Delia was ninety-nine percent sure she was covering a laugh. If she"d been in Mary"s position, she sure as hell would"ve been laughing. How ridiculous was this? To be checking out a fake hockey player boyfriend with her publicist and manager along with his sister?

Dread dropped in her stomach. Jack knew it was fake, didn"t he? Did Clara? Her eyes darted to Tony, as if he could read her mind and answer her. What had he said about his conversation with Jack? Her memory was a blur, and she couldn"t remember his exact words.

Clara shifted on the couch. "Why haven't you recorded that song? It was a total showstopper tonight. One of my personal favourites, for sure."

Delia's chest warmed. If it was one of her favourites, she must have known her music before IndieLake. That or gone down her TikTok rabbit hole after the fact. "Maybe someday it'll be recorded. Right now I"m focused on finishing up a new album," Delia answered, noting the look of approval from Tony.

She gave him a See? I"m trying to be diplomatic grin. He knew her well enough at that point to predict what she wanted to say instead. Something like, My contract screwed me out of any creative control over my music or My label doesn"t give a rat"s ass whether I like the songs I"m producing as long as it makes them money. Something like that.

Tony slapped his hands down on his thighs. "Well, I really appreciate you coming down, Jack. Do either of you want tea or—Delia, why don"t you have any snacks in here?"

Mary pointed to the counter. "There are almonds."

Kels frowned. "No Tim"s or pizza or something?"

Mary laughed. "Since when does she eat donuts and pizza?"

"Since when do we have guests in the green room?" Tony turned back to Clara and Jack. "Sorry, apparently we only have squirrel food and tea."

Jack reached out and pulled a bottled water from the basket on the table. "This is perfect for me."

His shirt sleeve pulled up on his arm revealing a swirl of black ink. Interesting. It didn"t look like a small tattoo, and Delia instantly wanted details. What was it? How far did it go up his arm? How long ago did he get it? When someone committed to a permanent mark on their skin, it usually had a story. And Delia loved stories.

Jack pulled up his sleeve a little higher before unscrewing the cap, and Delia realized she"d been staring. She tore her eyes away, but not before she noticed the side of Jack"s mouth curl up. It was too hot in here. She needed fresh air after performing in that hot box upstairs and then sitting with five other people in a space barely bigger than a basement bedroom.

"Here." Mary grabbed a portable fan from the counter and plugged it in, then turned it toward Delia"s face. How did she always know?

"Thank you," Delia murmured and reached for a bag of squirrel food. She wasn't going to eat it, but at least then she had something to hold.

Tony hunched and grabbed a tablet from the bag sitting next to him on the floor. "Alright, then—" He started, then froze and looked between Jack and Clara. "Did you want your sister to be here for this?"

"For—" Jack glanced down at the tablet. "Oh, right. Umm, yeah. That"s fine. She can be my lawyer."

Clara"s eyes widened, and Mary asked, "Wait, are you a lawyer?"

Clara laughed. "Only if you count watching Better Call Saul on slow shifts. I"m a nurse." She shifted on the couch. "I kind of forced Jack to bring me. I love your music, Delia, and couldn"t believe he was going to get to meet you when he didn"t even know who—" She stopped mid sentence and back pedalled. "I didn"t mean—of course he knew who you were, but?—"

Jack"s face was turning red, and Delia didn"t know whether to be amused or jealous. When she blushed, her face went splotchy like she was about to break out in hives. Jack"s skin was bronze and even, and when blood rushed to his cheeks, it only made him look . . . hot. Very hot. Possibly bothered. Especially when he reached up and rubbed his neck and?—

"I did know who you were," he clarified. Jack looked up, and Delia's heart stuttered.

She waved him off, pretending she'd been thinking at all about what Clara had said. "It"s fine, I don"t expect everyone to be fans."

"It"s not that I don"t like?—"

"It"s seriously fine." Now Delia"s cheeks were on fire with him watching her, and she planted her face in front of the fan.

"Sorry," Clara groaned. "I only meant to say that I"m a massive fan, and it"s impossible for Jack to match that energy. I wanted to meet you, but I don"t have to stay for?—"

"Clara, you"re staying." Jack set his water bottle on the table, then motioned for Tony to continue.

Mary shot Delia a look that said, This is already the highlight of my day. Delia mouthed, "I hate you," and Mary"s grin grew even wider.

Tony flipped open the case on his tablet. "Okay, then. I"ve got a contract right here for both of you to look over."

"A contract?" Jack cut in. His hands were on his knees, his knuckles white.

"Right, we can make any changes the two of you want, it"s just the safe way to do things. Make sure everyone knows what they"re signing up for."

Delia's palms started to sweat. Public Displays of Affection. She didn't even know this guy, besides the fact that he had a tattoo, a story behind his eyes, and a decent relationship with his sister.

But . . . what was the difference between this and meeting with a writer or producer in a booth for the first time and being expected to pour out her soul through vocals? At least with Jack she wouldn't have to open up anything other than her hand and her wallet.

Jack nodded. "No, I understand that, it"s just—" He paused, his brow furrowing. "I guess I thought there would be more . . . I don"t know. Time."

"Time?" Tony repeated.

"Right." He glanced at his sister, then looked up, fixing his gaze on Delia. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can do this. The concert was . . ." He didn't finish his sentence, and something bubbled up in Delia's chest. The concert was what?

She was suddenly desperate to know the words he would've chosen to describe her performance as a revealed non-fan. After her first single hit big, all she heard from her team of producers was how ground-breaking her music was. Delia wanted to believe them, but zero part of her could. Adding French lyrics to repetitive pop songs didn't constitute trailblazing. If she hadn't seen her mother's French birth certificate, she would've accused herself of cultural appropriation.

Jack stood, straightened his shirt, and moved toward the door. So many questions she wouldn't get the answer to. So many stories she was already hoping to hear. But that wasn't why Delia panicked and jumped from her stool.

"Why not?" she asked. Delia's mother had just started her night shift. She didn't like the idea of a publicity stunt any more than Jack did, but ever since Tony brought it up, she couldn't deny its brilliance. Celebrity couples were making waves everywhere. Mary had shown her an article the other day that estimated a five-hundred-percent increase in streams and record sales for female singers and songwriters who dated famous athletes. Especially if they were beloved or intensely controversial, and Jack was both of those things. Tony could probably find someone else to fit the bill, but they wouldn't be as hot of a commodity as Jack. And Delia needed to earn out that advance.

Jack stopped in front of the door. His shoulders were tight under his cotton shirt, his coat looped over his arm. "I just can't."

Again with the unfinished thoughts. That time, Delia's mind went straight to her own jugular. He hated the concert. He'd been game over the phone, but now that he saw her in person, he was underwhelmed. Every shit date she'd gone on over the past year and a half coagulated into a wrecking ball that swung and hit her square in the chest. She hadn't been exciting enough on her own, and now she couldn't even pay a guy to pretend to date her?

Delia clenched her hands into fists as her cheeks flamed. "Am I not good enough for you? Not enough of the skinny, hot cheerleader type?"

Mary stepped forward. "Delia?—"

"No, I want to hear what he thinks. If he's going to walk out that door and spread the word that Delia Melise wanted him and he turned her down, I want to at least be privy to his reasoning before it hits the tabloids."

"I signed a non-disclosure." Jack's eyes were dark as he turned to face her.

There it was again. That flicker she'd seen in the ballroom. Delia stared him down. "Well, thank you for that."

"I've got a lot on my plate," he said crisply.

"What, playing a game? This would require next to zero effort and it would benefit both of us." Delia folded her arms over her chest.

Jack's eyes hardened. "Unlike you, my career isn't exactly solidified at the moment. I need to focus."

"If the Blizzard want to sign you for another year, this kind of publicity would give you leverage for your pay scale," Tony interjected.

"If I'm distracted and don't play well, I won't get signed."

Kels adjusted his glasses. "The data shows that having a new girlfriend present at a game can improve your stats by nearly thirty percent."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "How's the data on fake girlfriends?" Kels pursed his lips, and Jack exhaled as he turned back to Delia. "It's not personal?—"

"Then what is it?" she asked, and this time Mary put her hand on her arm.

"Dels—"

"I feel like a gigolo," Jack snapped.

"But there's not even any sex!" Delia reached for the tablet and held it out to him.

The corner of Jack's mouth quirked. "You sound disappointed."

Delia hive-flushed. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant . . . you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"Right, which is why I'm walking out."

"Because you don't want to meet up with someone at regular intervals for money?" She heard it then. "Okay, I get that it doesn't sound good, but?—"

"Not someone. You." Jack clenched his jaw.

Delia slapped a hand to her hip. "I thought you said it wasn't personal."

"Just clarifying."

She chewed on her lower lip. What were they even arguing about at that point? "It's basically the same as you getting paid to play a hockey game. We meet up, play a game, and we both get paid. Probably less physical contact than the NHL, actually."

"A lot more lying."

"You don't have to lie." Delia scrolled to the paragraph under media appearances and turned the screen to him.

When asked about the relationship in interviews, both parties agree to provide affirmative but vague responses that confirm their relationship without delving into details.

Jack scanned the text then looked up. The top of the tablet was touching her chest and the bottom was nearly pressed against his. When had she gotten that close?

He stared at her. Hard. Delia hated prolonged eye contact, but she couldn't force herself to look away. Jack finally broke. "Why do you care? Couldn't you find some other hockey player?"

"Not one who people are obsessed with." Delia swallowed hard. "Not one who was willing to come here even though he didn't want to just so his sister could meet me."

Jack laughed through his nose. "You think that makes me a nice person?"

"I hope it makes you not a psychopath."

Jack gave a pointed look in Tony's direction, and Delia didn't have the mental energy to parse that out. She was exhausted. Bone-deep tired after waking up early, holding herself together on the flight, then doing the show.

She wobbled a bit on her feet and tried to bite back the words pouring onto her tongue, but couldn't. "I care because I bought a house for myself and my mom. I used my advance to pay off some of her debt, but she's sick, and the answer isn't in better medical care, it's in lowering her life stress, which means she needs to not be working. That means I need to sell enough to be in the black. I've busted my ass releasing new music, and if Tony thinks being seen with Jack Harrison will push me over the edge, then I'm in."

Delia took a step back, but before she could hand the tablet back to Kels, Jack took it from her. There were those eyes again. That furrowed brow. Finally he dropped his gaze to the screen and swiped.

"I'm going to need to read this."

Tony ran a hand over his face. "We're all leaving on a flight first thing in the morning, so?—"

"I"m not saying I need a week," Jack murmured.

"All I know is that I need food." Mary pouted.

Tony looked between the two of them. "Can I recommend you look that over at the restaurant on the corner?"

Delia shook her head. "Tony, you know what"s going to happen. We"re going to get there and?—"

"Already taking care of that." Tony pointed to Kels who was now holding his phone to his ear. "You know you"re not the only one in this group who gets swarmed in Calgary, eh?"

Delia looked at Jack who still had his hand on the door handle. He shrugged. "I"m not used to it yet, that"s for damn sure."