12. Caroline

"You told them?" Jake barks, his deep voice rumbling straight through my chest.

We're in the back of a cab on our way to the gala. I'm wearing the dream dress and he's in a suit with a black tie and crisp white undershirt. His dark hair is pushed back, almost making him look less like the beast from the ice. The five-o-clock shadow dusting his jaw gives him just a touch of ruggedness that goes with the classy look about as well as vanilla ice cream with warm apple pie.

"Hm?" I ask, blinking a few times and trying to tear my eyes away from him.

"I can't believe you told Andi and Jesse the engagement is fake."

"Those weren't my exact words…" I'm speaking slowly and carefully. Maybe if I speak slowly enough, he'll get sleepy and forget to be mad at me. Probably not.

Jake's jaw muscles tick with his annoyance. "We agreed this needed to stay a secret. I still haven't heard from my lawyer. We don't know if this guy has to believe it's legit. And I know my team has to believe it's legit, or this will backfire in the worst way. You realize how important this is to me, don't you?"

"Yes," I say. "I'm sorry, Jake. But Jesse is my brother. I've never been able to keep secrets from him. When we were three, and I smeared poop on the wall in the bathtub, I couldn't let our parents blame him. I admitted it was me. When I was seven and accidentally dented our dad"s car with my bike, I told Jesse it was me and not an escaped bull, like I told our parents. When we were in high school and I–"

"Wait," Jake says, holding a palm toward me. "You did what?"

"Not the point," I say quickly. "I just have a long history of unsuccessfully hiding things from him. Okay?"

Jake shakes his head and goes silent for the rest of the drive.

He's mad at me. I know he is. And I hate how it feels when people are mad at me.

"I am sorry," I try as the driver pulls to a stop in front of a huge hotel. There are dozens of very well-dressed people heading inside, and some are lingering out front, laughing and talking.

Jake sighs. "This has to be it, though. Okay? We can't tell anyone else. Every person who knows is a bigger chance of the truth getting out. Neither of us wants that. Right?"

"Right," I agree. "Nobody else."

He finally smiles, just barely. He gives my thigh a squeeze and makes my whole body stand at attention with the innocent touch. "Alright. We're good," he says. "Now it's time to convince everybody we're head-over-heels. Think you can pull that off? I didn't realize how bad of an actress you were until the scene in the hotel back there."

I blow a raspberry. "Can I pull it off? Easy. I got this, trust me."

Jake is talkingto a pair of handsome older men with salt-and-pepper hair. They're laughing and making small talk while I'm clutching his hand like gravity might suddenly shut off. Sweat runs down my spine, the small of my back, hands, and forehead.

The gala is being held in the opulent ballroom of one of the city's most prestigious hotels. Crystal chandeliers seem to drip like liquid from the high, intricately molded ceilings. They cast a sparkling yellow glow over the sea of perfectly dressed guests. The walls are lined with towering windows draped in velvety cloth. The polished marble floors reflect the sea of tuxedos and designer dresses moving in every direction.

There's even a small orchestra playing classical music while servers circulate with finger foods and champagne flutes on silver trays.

We're standing near the edge of the room by a large table topped with a swan sculpted out of perfectly smooth, transparent ice.

"So how'd you two meet?" one of the men asks.

I'm staring blankly ahead for a few seconds until I realize they're all staring at me. I was too busy soaking in the scene to keep up with the conversation. Jake gives my hand an urgent squeeze, prompting me into motion.

"At a gay bar," I blurt.

Everybody's eyebrows go up, mine included.

Whoops.

"Yep," I say, nodding a few times, as if that was all the story I need to tell.

Jake clears his throat. I can almost hear the gears in his impressive brain churning at maximum speed as he crafts a fake story to bail me out. "It was kind of a crazy night. A guy on the team talked us into going there with him for moral support. We were doing karaoke and having a blast. Caroline went with a friend, too. Naturally, given the setting, we didn't think we had a shot with each other. So I thought I really lucked out when we wound up… hitting it off."

"Yep," I say. "In the bathroom."

Whoops again. Maybe I should just smile and nod. Talking isn't working so well for me.

Jake very slowly slides his eyes to me. I'm no mind reader, but his aren't hard to guess. Shut up, Caroline. "That's right," he says tightly. "In the bathroom."

The men nod, looking a little put-off. "Well, that's just fascinating. We'll let you go. I know there are hundreds of people here hoping to chat with you. And your, uh, lovely partner, here."

I smile. Oof.

Jake looks at me once the men leave. "A gay bar? Really?"

"Sorry, okay? I'm usually good under pressure. I just… amn't, right now."

"Did you just say amn't?"

"Am not? Amn't? Is that not a thing?"

Jake rubs my back, smirking, and then he pauses mid-rub. "Why is your back all wet? Is that sweat?"

"Maybe?"

I think he's about to yank his hand away in disgust, but he surprises me by pulling me into a gentle hug. "Hey," he says, voice soft and reassuring. He puts his hands on my back, rubbing circles and apparently unbothered by the sweat. "We're fine. We got this. If you panic again, just squeeze my hand. I'll find a way to cover for you, okay?"

I nod. "Sorry, I'm getting sweat all over your suit."

"I don't mind it," he says. "Kind of reminds me of that one time… remember? It was summer and we snuck off to the utility shed by the harbor. It was so hot, and we were drenched when we were done. When we got back to Jesse's cabin, they all thought we'd just showered." He laughs, and the sound rumbles straight through his chest to mine.

Remember? Does he really think I've forgotten that? Or any of the other times I hooked up with him? I couldn't if I tried. Being with Jake always felt different. Special. Maybe it's because I knew I wasn't supposed to do it. I knew he was my brother's best friend. I knew hockey was his life, and he'd never carve out a permanent place for me in his schedule. I knew I was playing with fire–tempting myself to fall for a guy whose heart was iced over.

"Mia asked me why I stank that night," I say, laughing. "She said I need to learn how to shower because I didn't just miss a spot with the soap. I missed all the spots."

"Sorry," a woman says, interrupting us mid-hug. "Can I borrow him for a moment?"

I pull back from the hug with Jake to give her a look-over. Something in her sultry voice and the brazen request to "borrow" Jake from me already has me on the defensive. When I see the size of her gravity-defying breasts, I'm almost ready to come to blows. Then again, those huge things might just punch back if I hit one like a boxer's speed bag.

"Sure," Jake says easily. "We're available."

I relax a little. We. He's not playing along.

The woman's expression falters just a touch. "I was hoping to speak with you on behalf of my father. He's thinking about making a sizable contribution to the charity. As a hockey enthusiast, he's deeply appreciative of the work your amazing organization is doing."

"Really?" Jake asks. "That's incredible. I'd be happy to get in touch with him or answer any questions you might have."

She hesitates again. "That's quite alright. I'll let him know he can reach out." She walks off, heels clicking.

I have to resist the urge to throw my hair over one shoulder triumphantly. That's right. Walk away. He's my fake man, which means he's off-limits for you.

The rest of the night goes on smoothly. We're dragged from one conversation to another for nearly three hours. People either want to subtly remind Jake that they already contribute to the charity and collect their five minutes of attention from Jake as payment, or they want to tease the possibility of donating. Almost every conversation eventually turns to us and how we met, considering only a few people are ahead of the "news" about our engagement from reading it online. Almost everybody gushes over my dress, which keeps me in a perpetual state of flattery. Instead of being bored, it feels like I'm floating a few inches above the polished floors on a little cloud of sparkling pixie dust. I've got the perfect man on my arm, I'm wearing a dress fit for a princess, and we're drawing envious looks everywhere we go.

By the time everybody disperses to the little circular tables bought out across the room, we've told and grown the story of our gay bar meet-cute about fifty times. Each is draped with a white tablecloth, candles, and pristine table settings.

We're served a seven-course meal as people take turns going to the center of the room and giving speeches. The topics range from ball-gargling speeches about how amazing Jake is and how they met him or how much he has contributed to self-congratulatory speeches about how much money they've given. It's honestly kind of mind-numbing, but I keep myself happy and occupied in a number of ways.

One, I steal glances at Jake and enjoy the little fantasy that he's really engaged to me. I look around the room, catching people's eyes on us, then imagine what they must be thinking. I run my fingertips over the fabric of my dress, mesmerized by how impossibly soft it is. I also look around the room and admire other women"s dresses.

I'm lost in these thoughts when Jake stands suddenly, and people start clapping. I didn't realize he was going to speak.

He takes the microphone and stands at the center of the room, comfortable with the attention and silence as he slowly circles, taking a look at everybody in the room. There's a different intensity to the silence when the microphone is in his hand. Everybody is hanging there–just waiting for his words.

"Thank you all for coming," he says, voice booming through the sound system. "I know this is where I normally go on and on about the charity and try to persuade you all to contribute again for the year or for the first time. And please, do all that. But everybody else has already done such a good job of explaining what we do here… Tonight, I really just have one thing on my mind. One perfect someone," he adds, smiling so naturally I can't quite believe he's such a good actor. "Caroline, would you stand up for just a second?"

"That's okay," I say. My voice catches, so I have to clear my throat and say it again. "That's okay! I don't need to!"

The crowd starts clapping. Looking around the room, I can see people gesturing for me to stand. They're all smiles, but the pressure is unbearable.

A choked sound slips out of my throat as I stand, then give a jerky wave to Jake.

He beams at me, blue eyes sparkling. God. He really is an impressive man. Tall, broad, and with a face I'm pretty sure I couldn't get bored of if I tried. I'm smiling back at him before I realize it, caught in the spotlight of his attention until everything else feels like background noise.

"I know some pictures and stories got out yesterday," Jake says. "We wanted to be the ones to announce it, but late is better than never. So, everyone, this is Caroline. She's the woman I've asked to marry me, and she's my world."

I know he's just acting, but some hopeless romantic part of me is playing along with the scene. I don't know how long I've dreamed of a man talking about me like this someday–wanting to brag and share me with his world, to show me off.

"Come here, princess," Jake says, gesturing.

He might as well have just put a spell on me because my feet are moving all on their own. I hear a few soft gasps, probably as people get a better glimpse at my dress.

Jake puts a hand on the small of my back and thumps the microphone down on a table. He takes my chin and kisses me. And wow. His lips, the feeling of his body against mine, and his hands on me are everything.

It's pure magic.

And then he's pulling back, smiling down at me. He winks once, picks up the microphone, and thanks the clapping crowd for coming.

After the speeches, the orchestra plays some more upbeat songs and a few guests form an impromptu dance floor.

"We should go out there," Jake says. "It might look strange if we don't."

"Yeah," I say. My voice sounds too quiet and breathy. I'm still recovering from the kiss and the little speech–repeating to myself that he's just playing it all up for our benefit. Jake doesn't want the same things I want. I need to get that tattooed on my freaking forehead.

He offers me a hand and I give him mine. His big fingers practically swallow up my hand. I can't help remembering how those fingers felt when he used to put them inside me.

God, Caroline. Get it together. You're losing it.

"You remember I'm a terrible dancer, right?" I ask as we take a place near the edge of the dance floor.

"Oh, definitely," Jake laughs. "It's hard to forget when you see something like that."

I give him a playful punch on the arm. "You were supposed to say my dancing wasn't that bad. That was a test."

"I'm a bad liar. Honesty is a lot safer. The first time I saw you dance, I thought a wasp had been trapped inside your dress."

"Hah. So funny," I say, voice dry.

He puts my hand on his side and grips my other hand, interlocking his fingers with mine. He gives me a little tug until we're just inches apart as we start to sway with the music.

"You seemed like a pretty good liar back there, by the way. She's my world," I mimic.

Jake chuckles, eyes drifting down. Is he looking at my cleavage? "I got a little carried away. Sorry. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."

"It was fine. Although I still thought we were planning to keep a lower profile. Grand announcements about our engagement weren't exactly the plan yet, were they?"

"No," Jake agrees. His thumb is drifting dangerously low on my back. "I'll run that sort of thing by you next time. Promise."

"It's alright. I guess it makes sense. The story got out, anyway. We might as well own it. And with Andi and Jesse in on the secret, it's all a little less stressful. They can help us sell the lie to everyone else."

Jake nods. "I'll be shocked if Liam buys our story, by the way. That asshole sees through everything."

"Are you saying you'd like to tell him, too?"

"I don't know what I'd like to do," Jake admits. "As far as plans go, I have to admit this whole thing wasn't one of my most well-thought-out plans. Maybe we could trust just our closest friends to keep the secret?"

"I don't know…" I say. And then my whole mood sours because I'm reminded of my self-imposed deadline to tell him the truth about Walker. All this talk of secrets and lies has me feeling like I'm ready to explode. Soon. I will tell him soon.

"I have a kind of crazy thought," Jake says.

"Okay," I say. The song shifts to something slower, so he pulls me closer. My face rests against his chest as we continue to shuffle and sway with the music.

"I think we're both having doubts," Jake says.

My stomach sinks. He's going to call the whole thing off, isn't he? He's going to suggest we find another way. Another plan. He's going to say he's tired of pretending to like me and wants–

"Maybe because this is different for us," he adds. "We're doing it backward, right? We used to do all the physical stuff and none of… this." He gestures around the room and then at my dress as we move with the music.

"I guess so, yeah. We were always worried about people figuring out what we were up to when nobody looked. So, yeah, it was mostly just sex."

"I think it's weird for us both, and I'm pretty sure I know why, now," he says. "It's because of the sexual tension."

"Oh," I say, the word slips out of me like air from a rapidly deflating balloon. What was it I hoped he was going to say? That we should just skip the faking and date for real? That he wanted to be a real family, now that he'd had, what, a day or two of pretending?

They were stupid thoughts. He still didn't even know the truth about Walker, and my self-imposed deadline was getting closer every day.

"So I was thinking," his voice is a low whisper now. That wandering thumb of his is drifting down. He slips it down the open back of my dress, drifting down until it glides over the waistband of my thong. Hot prickles run up and down my skin, and warm desire pools in my core. "Maybe we just need to vent a little steam. Let the pressure out."

I need to swallow, but my throat feels too tight. I struggle momentarily, finally remembering how to execute the basic bodily function. "I have to tell you something. Something I should've told you a really long time ago."

"Shh," he says. That one finger on my bare skin is doing all kinds of things to my brain. Alarm bells are ringing. Steam is venting from random pipes, and little "inside my brain" people are running, screaming, and waving their arms in pure panic.

"Words," I say confidently. I blink twice, realize I've been reduced to a babbling idiot, and close my mouth. My cheeks burn hot.

Jake's lips spread in a sexy smile. "I already know," he says softly.

"You do?" My heart is pounding now.

"Of course I do. And I know why you haven't said anything. It's okay."

"Really?" I'm so confused and relieved I could cry.

"Really." He pulls me closer, now rocking me softly with the music.

"How long have you known?"

"A long time. And I'm okay with it. I get it. But that's why it has always worked so well between us."

I frown a little. "It is?"

"Yeah. You're not looking for anything serious. You've got the BB, and now you've got Walker. You're not about to set aside your career and passions for a committed relationship. But you don't have to apologize for it. I already understood that, and it's what made our little arrangement so perfect. Nothing comes between me and hockey. Nothing comes between you and your passion. All we could ever offer was part of ourselves, and that's perfect for me."

"Jake," I start.

"It's okay," he says again, leaning closer so his eyes are all I see. "You don't have to explain a thing. I get it. I always have."

He hooks his thumb under my chin, lifting my face to kiss me deeply and passionately. I'm so shocked by it that my thoughts go completely blank.

By the time he pulls back, I can only stare back, completely stunned.

He seems so happy and content that I decide this isn't the moment. For tonight, I'll just let this be what it is and enjoy the magic before it all fades. I'll enjoy the beautiful dress, the music, the perfect man holding me tightly, and the scorching promise that kiss held for what might come soon.

For now, this moment will be enough.