Page 27 of Ice Dance Hockey

The server returns with our drinks, and we order. Rhett gets steak and lobster, shocker.

“I’ll have the mixed greens salad to start, dressing on the side. Then I’ll have your baked chicken dinner. It’s got to be grilled. Absolutely no butter—I’m lactose intolerant,” I lie so they’ll make sure to do it right.

“What would you like with your chicken, sir?” the server says.

“Vegetables. Steamed.”

“Give us another steak as well,” Rhett adds. “Medium rare with a side of mashed potatoes,lotsof butter.”

I glare at him. The server perks an amused brow.

“I’m not eating any of that,” I snap at him when we’re alone.

He sips his wine, smirking over top of his glass. “We’ll see.”

“Maybe if I were nothing but a battering ram, I could carry all kinds of weight on me too, but I don’t have that luxury. I’m easy to lift. If I can no longer be lifted, I might not be as valuable as an ice dancer.”

“Nonsense. I’ve seen you skate. You’re brilliant. You could skate on your own without ever being lifted.”

Heat creeps over my neck. He complimented me. Again. I’m not used to compliments. “As if you know a thing about ice dancing.” It doesn’t pay like a career with the NHL. I need a degree if I want a real job, which means I need to keep in top condition to keep my scholarship.

“I’m quite the skater myself,” he boasts. “I’m sure I could learn to jump around a little.”

I shake my head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Right, well, we should get down to business. You got a little taste of my fame. How was it for you?”

I raise a brow. “You’re asking?”

“I wasn’t trying to be a dick before. You act like you’re impenetrable, it’s hard to fathom that anything could hurt you. Answer the question.”

Another compliment in the space of a few minutes? Too bad he ruined it with his bossiness. “I can handle it.” That’s what he’s really asking. “So long as you do what you did. I don’t think I could stomach them coming up to us all night.”

“You can thank Jack for that. He trained me well. He hated stuff like that, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as it is now that I’m an NHL star.”

“Jack hated that?”

“Jack just wants to play hockey. He’s not a fan of the fame that comes with it.”

“He’d better get used to it come September. Jeez.”

“I’ve been trying to tell him.” Rhett shakes his head with his fondness for Jack shining in his eyes. It’s similar to the way Mercy looks at Jack. Everyone looks at Jack like that.

The way no one will ever look at me.

I try not to be bitter about it. Jack deserves it, I know he does, but the venom and the jealousy rise anyway.

Pretend, Logan. Enjoy this. A fake boyfriend fake adoring the fuck out of you is all you’ll ever have.

Suddenly, I wish I could drink the wine.

“What just happened to you?” Rhett’s beautiful face twists in consternation.

I put my mask back in place. “None of your fucking business.” He flinches. Yeah, the great Rhett Elkington flinches, but only because he wasn’t expecting me to snap at him. I think. I clear my throat. “What else must I contend with while I’m your ‘boyfriend’?” I say using air quotes around the word boyfriend.

He lists the various rich people events I’ll have to attend with him when I can. People will understand when I’m in school, which will apparently be taken care of by the Elkington PR team as far as what’s seen on the family's social media accounts. I need to go to hockey games, including flying to them when I can. It all sounds so exhausting that I tune most of it out.

“We’ll need to kiss and show affection in public.”

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