Page 9 of Skating and Fake Dating
“Right. Yeah. Okay.” My voice becomes clipped as this becomes increasingly real.
“I’ll email your travel information and you also have my contact information now, strictly for work purposes, of course.” Even though she’s slightly flustered, she has a kind of natural beauty and innocence that makes me want to flirt, to see her blush. But that would make me no better than Jayden and I’m no longer what Mama calls a natural-born Southern charmer—at least, I try not to be.
No sense in misleading women into thinking they have a shot at love. There’s no such thing.
“So I can’t call you to go out for drinks, Bailey Babe?” The question slips out and while I mean for it to be a dig at Jayden, I’m afraid I’ve insulted her.
Her cheeks pop with a delicate shade of pink that they didn’t when he spoke almost those exact words.
“Really? What? I mean no. Just—” She’s adorably nervous.
I pump my hands. “It’s okay. I was joking. I’ll only use your number for emergencies.”
“That’s what 911 is for.”
I smirk. “Work-related interactions.”
“Of course. Right. Silly me. I’m still hammering out all your arrangements in Washington, but I assure you, I’ll have everything planned by the time we land.”
She swipes through the pages of her planner, and I glimpsehasty scrawls and crossed-out lists. She closes it and tucks it under her arm, opening her phone and looking for something while muttering, “I’m a fixer. A problem solver.”
If only that included careers … and hearts, because I’m officially and fully saying goodbye to the future I thought I had.
CHAPTER 6
CARSON
While still standing in the parking lot next to my truck, conflicting thoughts about Bailey assault me.
Stay away! Stay far, far away!
But she smells so good!
“Is there a problem?” I ask, whether to myself or her, I’m not sure.
“I just mean that I’m solution-oriented and?—”
A bit of a ball of chaos, but in a cute way.
“I may misplace my belongings—these are my fifth pair of sunglasses.” Her eyes roll upward and she taps her head. Her shoulders sag and she lets out an exasperated breath. “I promise that I won’t lose any of your things in transit. I mean, the movers won’t. Okay, found it. Here’s the info for the moving company. They just need you to sign an online agreement. Couldn’t do that for you.” She holds out her phone with a digital document and a highlighted box for me to scribble my signature.
“How do I know this isn’t a contract to legally bind us in holy matrimony?”
She gasps. “I’d never. I mean, if you—” She drops her gaze to the ground. “Weddings are stupid. Mostly. Marriage too. I’m not into that at all. So don’t even think for a minute that I have ascrapbook filled with bridal gown ideas or designs for my dream house or?—”
My lips slant with a smile. “Good, because marriage is the furthest thing from my mind. I’m just messing with you.”
Later that evening, after a lengthy delay before getting off the ground, followed by a layover, I squeeze past the flight attendant with a polite smile now that the seat belt sign is off.
Her expression turns mushy and she bats her eyelashes. “Can I do anything for you, sir?”
“Just need the restroom,” I murmur, ducking my head to avoid hitting the ceiling. Even after six years in the NHL, which ushered in my first time on an airplane and many flights since, I still haven’t gotten used to their dimensions.
The vacant sign glows and I quickly do my business. As I wash my hands in the comically small sink, the plane lurches and my elbow hits the molded plastic wall.
The overhead speaker crackles and a male voice says, “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re experiencing some unexpected turbulence as we cross the Rockies. Please, return to your seats and fasten your?—”
Another jolt. I stumble forward as the bathroom door swings open, colliding with someone as momentum then shunts us back into the bathroom. The door springs closed as the woman shrieks.
