Page 13 of One Steamy Pucking Meet Cute

“I’m not,” I say, voice thick. “That was just nice. Thank you.”

There are a few beats of silence, and then Jake shrugs a little. “Can’t pretend to be your fiancé if I don’t say nice things here and there. Right?”

“Yeah,” I agree, even though I kind of wish he had just stayed silent. I like to think I don’t do what I do for thanks or appreciation, but it’s rare for somebody to recognize you and really see you. Whether Jake tries to pull back some of the sincerity of what he just said or not, I will hold on to and cherish his words.

“This is it,” the driver says a few minutes later.

We both pull apart as if our parents just caught us cuddling in the back seat. I glance over at Walker, who is fast asleep. The little guy stayed awake almost the whole time we were in the air, mostly because the flight attendant and girl who did my nails kept gushing over him. He’s a ham, so he seemed to eat up all the attention, but now he’s got to rest.

“He good?” Jake asks.

“Just tired,” I say. I lean to the side, glancing out the window. Manhattan is busy, as always, and we’re in one of the premier shopping districts. I can see it from the way most of the pedestrians are dressed even before I start scanning the names on the storefronts.

“Come on,” he says. “Want me to hold Walker?”

“Um, okay,” I say. Usually, I don’t like letting people hold his carrier. I have an irrational fear that they’ll drop him. But I also have to admit that Jake Summers looks like he’s too coordinated and athletic to ever drop something by mistake.

The driver gets our doors, making me feel a little silly as people on the street start giving us looks. Even in this part of the city, I guess it’s a little unusual to see a man dressed in “fancy driver” clothes getting doors for people. Or maybe it’s that Jake Summers is famous enough for one out of every two people walking by to recognize him.

A thought strikes me as Jake helps me out of the car with one hand and holds Walker’s carrier in the other. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to keep this a secret like you said,” I whisper. “From our friends, I mean.”

Jake glances around, then grimaces a little. “I thought about that after we talked,” he admits. “I thought maybe I was just being arrogant, though. But it does look like plenty of people are recognizing me and wondering what I’m doing with a baby carrier.”

“You didn’t think people would find it interesting that a hot NHL star suddenly shows up carrying a baby?”

“You think I’m hot?” he asks, grinning.

I roll my eyes but smile. “Let’s just go get this stupid ring.”

He puts a hand on the small of my back and guides me through the crowd. It’s not hard, considering people are stopping to stare at him. At us. I think I see envy in a few faces, and I try not to let that boost my ego. We’re just pretending, for starters.

“Jake, can I get a picture?” a guy asks.

“Sorry, not a good time,” Jake says.

“Is that your girlfriend?” a voice asks from the growing crowd.

The group of people staring at us is getting big enough that people are stopping, just because that’s what people do when they see a spontaneous crowd forming. I hear a growing murmur of whispers and some raised voices. I catch words like “NHL”, “star”, “Jake”, “girlfriend”, “baby”, and “fiancée”.

“Yeah,” I say as he guides me to the front doors of Tiffany’s flagship location in Manhattan. “I think the secret might already be out.” It’s easy to forget how famous Jake is. Even though I’ve gone to his games before and seen him within crowds of thousands. I hardly ever walk around with him or Jesse outside Frosty Harbor. Everybody back home is so used to the guys that they hardly get extra attention.

The store is on a corner, and two men in dark suits are out front. They open the doors for us and seem to ward off anyone who tries to follow us inside.

“Wow,” I say once we’re inside. “You created quite the flash mob back there”

“Must be the baby,” Jake says. “People love babies and a good scandal.”

“We’re hardly a scandal,” I say, even though I’m not quite sure I’m correct. But my voice trails off as I take in the store. The showroom feels like the grand hall of a palace. Huge windows run down either wall, and glass showcases full of glistening jewelry are on display as far as I can see.

“Wow,” I breathe. “Where is everybody?”

Outside, there was an endless sea of people. Here, it’s like an oasis from the flood of humanity. There’s nobody except a single woman in a sleek black dress and perfectly straight brown hair coming our way.

“Oh, yeah,” Jake says. “I had this genius idea. I booked out the showroom so we could get to look in private. You know, keep things inconspicuous. Keep the secret,” he adds, grin widening.

I laugh. “Well, it was a good thought.” I look behind us as the crowd of people trying to tiptoe to look past the guys watching the door. “But I’m pretty sure everybody out there is putting two and two together.”

“No big deal,” Jake says. “We’ll figure it out. We’re both pretty good on our feet. Then again, we weren’t so bad when we got off our feet together, either.”

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