Page 118 of Test the Ice
I’ve never felt a pull as strong as this. That invisible string tugs me closer, and as if the room is closing in on us, I end up right in front of her.
“You should really let me do my job,” I say.
She turns, her eyes glassy. “Play hockey?”
I shake my head. “It’s my job as your fiancé to give you a shoulder to lean on...”
“You’re my fake–”
I grab her mid-sentence and pull her into my chest. I gently grip the side of her face, cradling her close. She freezes for a second, her shoulders tense, and I press my mouth to the top of her head, placing a kiss there. A shaky exhale leaves her, and something wet rolls over my knuckles.
“I’ll marry you right now if that’s what it’ll take for you to stop saying that,” I murmur against her hair.
She sniffles and shakes her head against my chest. “You’re crazy.”
I am. For her. For Charleigh.
I don’t know when it happened, but I’m done for.
Moving her away from my chest, I grip both sides of her face with my hands and peer down into her watery eyes.
It cuts me to see her like this.
Pink splotches dot her cheeks, the warm brown color of her eyes filled with fear.
It does far more than increase my need to win this little game that Benedict is playing with her.
“We’re going to figure this out together, okay?”
She tries to shake her head but doesn’t get very far with my hands gripping her cheeks.
A shaky breath leaves her. “I think I’ve involved you enough. You have the playoffs to worry about—you know…your actual job, not the one where you pretend to be my fiancé.”
I don’t care.
Wait, I don’t?
Instead of cracking open my chest and letting the truth spill out to scare her, like it just did to me, I lift a shoulder. “I can multitask, Dimples.”
Her mouth twitches.
“I have the day off,” I say. “Let me make you, Char, and Zoe—if she’s staying in—dinner, and then we’ll learn all there is to know about mediations and how to prepare. Yeah?”
She sniffles. “I already prepped dinner for you. That’s my job, remember?”
Of course she did.
“Save it,” I say. “I’m making dinner tonight.”
Reese stares at me incredulously, a tiny line forming in between her eyebrows. “You can cook?”
“I cook and clean. The only reason I have you doing both is because I know you won’t let me pay you otherwise.”
Her lips flatten, but I know there’s no use in arguing about it.
“I have a lot of skills…” I add. “Hiddenskills.” I wiggle my eyebrows in an attempt to lighten the mood.
A blush spreads over her cheeks, replacing the pink splotches from her tears. I interlace our fingers and guide us toward the door. “I’ll show you those skills too,” I whisper into her ear. “But later.”
