Page 5 of Dreams on the Ice

Instead of walking into the house, I sink down on the chair that’s on the front porch. It faces the girls’ house. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Then, the longer I stare at the house, the more I figure it out only because it’s the only logical thingtodo.

I just hope I don’t fuck everything up.

The girls come and go, then come home again, and I watch as the lights in the house turn on and off, but the person I’m waiting for hasn’t shown up yet. It doesn’t surprise me because she’s usually the last to arrive—everywhere.

Everywhere.

That should probably bother me, considering it was literally beaten into me to be on time. But it doesn’t because, for whatever reason, I think it’s cute. And maybe I think it’s cute because my upbringing was so strict on the matter.

Glancing at the clock on my phone, I arch a brow at the time. It’s eleven in the evening. I can’t help but wonder what she was out doing at this time. It’s not my business, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering.

I watch as she turns her car off, grabs her purse, and then unfolds from her vehicle. I just stare for a moment because of that ass, those long, lean legs, combined with that blonde hair. It’s so fucking mesmerizing. Everything about her is.

Just as she reaches for the front door, I jump up from my place, jogging toward her as I whistle, hoping she’ll stop. Thankfully, she does. Her head whips around as she looks over her shoulder at me.

Continuing to jog toward her, I clear my throat as soon as I’m standing in front of her. Brooklynn slowly turns around to face me fully, tipping her head back as her eyes lift to meet mine. I can see the question in them, but she has no fucking clue what I’m about to ask her. And I have no clue how she’s going to respond.

Instead of easing into the conversation, I just blurt out my question. “I’m going to ask you something weird. You can say no, but it would seriously help me out big time if you agreed.”

She blinks but doesn’t respond immediately, so I decide to continue. “My parents are ridiculous. I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

Her breath hitches at the same time, and her eyes widen. I can tell she’s shocked as shit. And honestly, I’m shocked as fuck that I have to ask her. That I’m actually asking her. I should have asked one of the other girls. I should have asked someone who I didn’t want to fuck into the mattress.

Goddamn.

I didn’t think this through because I don’t think I can pretend anything when it comes to her. I want her. I’ve wanted her. I don’t think that’s going anywhere. My dick twitches against my jeans, knowing where it wants to be.

“Your girlfriend?” she asks in a whisper.

I hum, dipping my chin in a single nod. “My parents are having this party. I need a date, and I refuse to be set up with one of their friends’ snotty daughters again.”

“A party?” Her voice is still whisper-soft.

Rocking back on my heels, I almost laugh because I know she doesn’t understand what I’m asking of her. It’s a hell of a lot.

“Not just a party,” I murmur. “A whole fucking production.”

“Forrest?”

I know she’s confused. I would be, too. Clearing my throat, I shake my head a couple of times and then lift my gaze to meethers. “It’s not just a single party,” I say. “It’s a four-day event at their estate.”

Her eyes widen, and she takes a step backward. “A four-day event?” she asks. “What are you asking me, Forrest?”

Without hesitation, I answer her. “Come with me to my parents’ villa in the Hamptons.”

I can tell she wasn’t expecting me to say the Hamptons, but at the same time, she doesn’t balk at the location. Brooklynn comes from a little new money, but I come from old money, and it’s a whole other ballgame.

“Why me?” she asks.

I could tell her the whole truth. But I decided against it. She doesn’t need everything, and she wouldn’t want to hear it all anyway. All she needs is the minimum information. So that’s what I decide to give her.

Just the minimum information.

I learned that shit from my dad. Nobody needs the whole story, just enough so you get what you want.

“Because you’re my friend, and I know you’re the one who could deal with their level of extra better than anyone.”

She looks down at her feet, then slowly lifts her gaze to meet mine. “You want me to pretend to be your rich-bitch girlfriend?” she asks.

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