Page 28 of Faking It with the Forward

“I decided to take my own advice.” I shrug. “It’s time for something new.”

He leans his elbow against the bar and snorts. “Well, she’s definitely something new for you.”

There’s no denying that Twyler is the opposite of any girl I’ve been seen with before. From Shanna to the puck bunnies, I’ve always had a type. Twyler goes against it—which is exactly the point.

“I’m focusing on the season,” I tell him. “And that includes cooling it with the puck bunnies for a while. Also, Twyler’s fun to hang around. It’s nothing serious.”

He lets it drop as the bartender pushes the pitcher of beer across the bar top and Reid grabs it as I pick up two new glasses. Or at least I think he does. He turns to me, his red hair glinting in the neon lights behind the bar, and says, “She’s a cool chick, Cap, and I really like the way she deep tissue massages my hamstrings.” His expression is dead serious. “Don’t fuck this up.”

I can’t tell him that there’s no way for me to fuck this up when the whole thing is fake and Twyler Perkins has zero interest in me anyway.

9

Twyler

“Just let it go,” I say to Nadia after she asked me a dozen questions about me and Reese showing up together.Are we on a date? How did he ask me? What were his exact words? Does that mean the picture he posted was real?“We’re just… feeling things out.”

My friend blinks at me and says, “Girls don’t just feel things out with guys like Reese Cain. They fuck him or they marry him. There is no in between.”

“Who says I can’t be one of those?”

We both know it’s a stretch, but I get the sense there’s something else lingering under Nadia’s disbelief. Jealousy. In her world, there’s no other option for a woman who wants to be with an athlete. Jersey chaser or wife. If I fall into something in the middle, her whole life plan falls apart.

Our stare off is interrupted when two guys approach the table. Two cute, non-hockey playing guys.

“Well, hello,” Nadia says, instantly intrigued.

“You’re new,” the tall one says, grinning down. His shirt has the symbol of the rowing team stamped over his heart. “I’m Knox.” He sits next to Nadia and his ridiculously good-looking friend stares at me. “That’s Miller.”

“We’re, uh…” I look over their shoulder searching for Reese. He promised to stick by me all night.

“Nadia,” my friend says, eyeing the rower. Not her team of choice but I know her, and any varsity athlete will do.

“And what about you, beautiful?” Miller says, reaching out to touch my hair. “What’s your name?”

“Not interested,” a voice says. We all look up and to see Reese and Reid back from the bar. “You’re in my seat, Hansen.”

“Cain. I didn’t know you were sitting here.” His lip quirks in a way that says he definitely knew it. “How’s the season looking?”

From the expression on Reese’s face, it’s looking like he’s one heartbeat away from ripping this Miller guy’s head off at the neck. Knox seems to get the picture faster than his friend because he stands up and says, “Nice to meet you.” He nods at Reid. “Later, dude.”

Reid nods and slides into the seat Knox vacated. Nadia smiles at him.

Miller takes his time getting up. I don’t know who this kid is, but he has balls, that’s for sure. He winks at me and says, “See you around,” before rising and merging with the crowd. The last thing I see is him palming the ass of a blonde before getting swallowed up.

Reese glares at his backside and sits next to me.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I should’ve known that if I left you alone for two seconds the vultures would descend.”

“It’s okay.” I’m rattled although I’m not sure why. “Who was that?”

“Miller Hansen–frat boy degenerate.” He sets the two glasses he was carrying on the table. “I know you’re supposed to be learning how to relate to guys, butabsolutely notwith that one.”

I’m not going to disagree. Reese is out of my league. Miller seems like the Devil looking for a new plaything. Shifting, Reese’s massive thigh presses against mine. A flutter tickles in my lower belly, followed by a slow-spreading warmth. Am I so desperate that I’m falling for a jock-manwhore like Reese? No. It’s just biology and going way too long without a boyfriend. But ugh, how can one guy smell this good?

“I apologize for the beer,” he says a little louder, sliding a glass in front of me. “Reid ordered before I could get a word in.”

“What? PBR is a classic.”

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