Page 29 of One Steamy Pucking Meet Cute

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 talking to 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.”

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