Page 28 of Dancing in the Rain

“God, I know. I know.” She shook her head abruptly and sat up straight. “Well. I didn’t come here to cry on your shoulder. I came here to kick your ass.”

“You almost got to kick mybareass.”

She bit her lip on a smile. “Yeah.”

“Well, consider me ass-whooped.”

“You’ll meet Chloe?”

“Yeah.” He shoved a hand through his hair, pushing it off his face. It fell back over his forehead immediately. “I will. If you can keep your shit together, I can, too.”

“Well, you’re the only one who knows this is just an act. I’m that close”—she held up her thumb and forefinger, nearly touching—“to losing it.”

“It’s a good act. And hey, I’ve done that whole ‘fake it till you make it’ thing. When I first got drafted into the NHL, every day I knew they’d made a huge mistake. I was playing with the big boys, the real deal, and I was terrified. I had to put on a lot of bluster and bravado so they didn’t just run me over on the ice and leave me lying there bleeding.”

She nodded.

“Sometimes faking it helps us feel like we’re really doing it,” he added. “We can convince ourselves.”

“Yeah. That’s true.”

He knew how she felt. He wasthatclose to losing his shit, too. In fact, if she hadn’t shown up at his door, he wasn’t sure…

“Do you have to get home?” he asked.

“Um. I guess so, yeah. Why?”

“Just wondered if maybe you wanted to get some dinner with me.” He shrugged. “Just sitting here alone tonight.”

She gazed at him, her expression not changing. He sensed her mind working.

“Never mind,” he said. “Stupid idea. I just—”

“Let me call home,” she said softly. “I’ll order a pizza for Chloe and Sara. There’s a nurse with Sara right now.”

She rose and walked over to her purse on the island. He listened to her talk to Chloe, telling her she’d be home in a while, and that she’d call and order pizza. Then she did that, using a credit card to pay for it. She was sweet with Chloe, briskly efficient with the pizza restaurant.

She probably felt sorry for him. He fucking hated pity. On the other hand, the idea of being alone filled him with dread. So he’d take her pity date. Not that it was a date, like a romantic date—just a…pity date.

Great. He was even pathetic.

Chapter 7

Peyton slipped her cellphone back into the pocket inside her purse. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Drew looked down at his T-shirt and shorts. “I should change.”

“Okay, if you want.” She shrugged. She assumed they weren’t going anywhere fancy, so it didn’t matter to her what he wore.

“Be right back.”

He jogged upstairs.

She looked around the house. Really nice place. If it was an old house, it had been completely renovated. The kitchen wasn’t super huge, but generous, with dark wood cupboards and stainless-steel appliances including a gorgeous Sub-Zero fridge. The empty beer bottles on the marble counter, cardboard pizza boxes stacked on the island, and dishes in the sink had her shaking her head.

She wandered over to the sliding doors and gazed out onto the deck with steps down to a patio and a large yard behind. Lots of room for a single guy. The deck was lovely but looked a little forlorn, the furniture bereft of cushions, no pots of flowers, and a barbecue under a plastic cover.

She turned back to the family room. While the living room had looked pristine and a little sterile, albeit tastefully decorated in shades of cream, this room was lived in, with a pair of Nikes on the floor, a bunch of sports magazines and newspapers, and a book about exercise physiology.

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