Page 44 of Playing to Win

When Braydon saw me in the doorway, he let out a breath. “Do I look okay?”

Define okay.The suit emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist, with that hockey player ass covered by the jacket. Thick thighs and long legs. His blond hair was slightly damp, lying darker than usual in what was obviously a new haircut. The only thing marring his appearance was the worried look in his blue eyes.

Color me dense.He’d done all this to meet my parents. Even though this was a fake relationship and he’d never need to talk to them again, he’d made a real effort. Something inside me swooned but I stiffened my spine. This wasn’t real, and I didn’t date hockey players. Just because he was a nice guy didn’t mean I had to…feel things.

“Yeah, you look fine.” And I didn’t emphasize the last word, even if it would have been accurate to do so.

Braydon pulled on his collar. “Should we go, then?”

I snapped my gaze away from him and pivoted toward the hall to the parking lot. “You can drive?”

He nodded. We’d chosen a place a little north of the arena—far enough away to not be swamped by fans who’d been at the game, not too far from my parents’ hotel, and near a subway stop so I could get to my place easily. It was a pub-style bar/restaurant, so we could find something simple to eat without being stuck at a long dinner after the game.

Braydon offered to let me off at the door, but I preferred to stay with him. He found street parking half a block away. The big piles of snow were gone, so walking was easier and I left my cane in the truck. Braydon offered me his arm. Normally I’d refuse to look like I needed help, but tonight I was playing the part of girlfriend, so I smiled and accepted. When we entered the restaurant, I was still hanging on Braydon’s arm. My parents were waiting near the bar, and my mom, spotting us, smiled ear to ear.

I braced myself. “They’re over there.” I tilted my head.

“You look like your mom.” Braydon leaned in to speak in my ear, over the chatter of the restaurant, and my mom’s smile grew even bigger.

Guess it wouldn’t be difficult to convince them we were really dating.

I let Braydon lead me over. “Mom, Dad, this is Braydon Mitchell. Braydon, these are my parents, Dave and Joan Templin.”

Braydon took my dad’s outstretched hand and shook it. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Forget the sir, I’m Dave.”

“And I’m Joan,” my mom added. “It’ssonice to meet you.”

The hostess interrupted, indicating our table was ready. We followed her, weaving through the crowd to a table at the back. Braydon held out a chair for me, and I sat down across from my mother.

“Thank you for getting us tickets.” My dad leaned across the table. “Always a treat to watch a game. Too bad you didn’t get a chance to play.”

I gripped the menu before me with clenched fists. I’d offered them tickets to see my games but it had been a couple of years since they attended one.

Braydon pressed his thigh against mine as he opened his menu. “I’m new, and I have a lot to learn. It’s a real education just to watch the game from the bench.”

My dad’s approval of that answer was obvious. “Humble and willing to learn. More players should have that attitude.”

I stiffened. Was he saying I should have that attitude? How the hell would he know what my game was like, since he rarely saw me play? Or had Wayne stopped accepting all the offered advice and criticism?

The waiter came by and we ordered drinks. I stuck to water, while Braydon asked for a soft drink. My dad suggested beer, but Braydon refused because he was driving. Yep, he was perfect for my parents. My mom kept glancing between the two of us, assessing how serious this was, and how close she was to her dream of having an NHL player in the family.

Farther away than you think, Mom.

We picked through the menu to decide what to eat. Braydon ordered grilled chicken and vegetables. Dad followed. Because it was what he wanted or to bond with Braydon? Mom ordered a salad, but I chose a wrap.

“Sure you don’t want a salad, Jayna?”

I forced a big smile. “No, the wrap is good.”

“You’re not playing anymore. You aren’t burning up those calories.”

My smile dropped. “I’m still working out and doing rehab.” But I was less active than I used to be, and for a moment, I wondered—was I putting on weight?

Braydon put his hand on my leg. I met his gaze and he let it drop down over my body and back up. He winked, a reassurance that I didn’t need to worry. My cheeks flushed, but I felt stronger as the waiter left, and I didn’t cave.

“You know,” my dad said, and I knew what was coming, “I almost played. In the NHL, I mean. Did Jayna mention that?”

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