Page 57 of Some Like It Hot

“So I seem more the type to take them home, fuck them, and not call them the next day?”

He’s a straight shooter so I decide I can be too. I pick up my water glass. “Yes.”

He chuckles. “Well, I guess that’s not entirely wrong. But I usually call them a few times. And I’ve at least talked to them at the bar or an event or two before I take them home.”

I know ‘the bar’ is the regular hang-out where the Racketeers like to gather. I’ve been there a few times, and it makes sense that he could meet women there and get to know them at least a bit.

“But you aren’t friends with any of them after you…stop calling them?”

He narrows his eyes. “Why do you assume that?”

“Because you asked me to be your fake fiancée. We barely know each other. We made out once. Seems if you had someone you’d taken out even a couple of times, she would be a better candidate.”

He sips from his water glass, watching me. He sets it down and says, “You’re right. I don’t stay friends with women I fuck. And I don’t date. I have avoided anything serious on purpose. I don’t intend to stay in Chicago, so it’s always seemed silly to fall in love with a hometown girl. And the fake fiancée thing seemed complicated to go into with anyone else.”

“But it’s not with me somehow?”

“You seem like a no bullshit kind of person. I really like that about you.” One corner of his mouth curls. “And…” He shakes his head. “Your name just popped out when I was talking to my grandmother. You were obviously on my mind. I guess it seemed like a good way to spend more time with you.”

I’m not sure what to make of that. I like that he’s been thinking about me. Probably too much.

I don’t need this. For one, he’s grumpy and blunt and literally just said he has no intention of staying in Chicago. Letting myself develop feelings for him would be stupid. So, I can tell myself not to do that but…what if I can’t? Clearly we’re going to be pretending to be close. We’re going to go on dates, hold hands, probably kiss.

For another, I just had my world rocked last night by Simon, and now Aidan showed up and seems to want to make it a threesome.

A shiver of desire goes through me at that thought. Wow. Simon and Aidan are clearly into each other as well as being into me and that is so hot…

I blow out a breath.

I don’t need Blake Wilder.

Why did I agree to help him out in the first place?

You had no hope of saying no when he asked you a question. Any question. But especially one that involved getting to see him more.

My inner voice is very annoying, but she’s right. And I don’t know what to do with that realization.

The waiter returns before I need to comment. And goes over the evening specials. We both place our orders—lasagna for Blake and lemon garlic linguine for me—and he moves off again, leaving us alone. Blake leans back, his beer cradled in his hand.

“So tell me about this cabin that’s so important you’ll fake having a fiancée to get it,” I say.

“It’s gorgeous. Five bedrooms, four baths, huge balcony that looks out over the lake and a screened-in porch. We have our own dock. It’s surrounded by trees. The closest neighbor is a mile away. Woodburning fireplaces, amazing hiking, quiet, you can see so many fucking stars.”

I smile at how easily he launches into the description, and the softness in his voice. He’s relaxed talking about it and it’s clear that it means a lot to him.

“A lot of memories there?”

“The best. We went up every summer, often in the fall too. The leaves are amazing. It was one of the few times that my family was all together, no crazy schedules.”

“Are you close to your family?”

He nods. “Definitely. When I started playing hockey, things got a little crazy. There was lots of traveling, the schedule was nuts. But they were totally supportive. It was actually tough making the decision to come to Chicago.”

“Really? Even to play professional hockey? Wasn’t that your dream?”

“My dream was to play for Minnesota.” He chuckles. “I was actually disappointed to be drafted by Chicago at first. I’m happy to be here now. But it’s far from home. I’m ready to go back.”

I sip from my martini glass and study him. I’m surprised for some reason to see this softer love-of-family-and-home side of him. This cabin matters to him because he has roots there. I like that about him.

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