The speculation that Boston’s favorite notoriously single forward is spotted with the same woman twice in a row has put a target on my back. Yes, it’s certainly drawing more foot traffic, but it feels like I’m losing control over my life, and somehow not addressing it is turning into a bigger problem.
Jack peeks behind him, then leans closer, dropping his voice. “Listen, for whatever reason, people are assuming that we’re dating. You’re the mystery girl.”
“Not much of a mystery. Everyone knows who I am.”
His shoulders sag. “You don’t want to be my mystery girl?”
“I don’t want to be your girl at all, Jack.”
He playfully pulls at his V-neck sweater. “Well, that’s going to make this a little more challenging.”
“I thought you liked it easy.”
He fights back a grin. “You’re kind of a smart-ass, you know that?”
“I’m a lot of things.” I straighten up and peer around him. “Anything I can help you find?” I say to the ladies in the back.
One of the women at the back shifts her overflowing tote higher on her shoulder. “Actually, yes.”
My attention darts back to Jack, his eyes already locked on my mouth before he meets my gaze a second later. Too late. He’s so…
“Hold that thought, Murphy. Two minutes.”
The customers are practically vibrating with curiosity, stealing glances at him, then over to me. I rush through the transaction, hyperaware of Jack wandering the store, picking up books and reading back covers like he has all the time in theworld. Like my entire life isn’t hanging in the balance of whatever ridiculous thing he’s about to propose.
Once we’re alone again, he finishes: “Well, listen, I’ve been at this a while, and all PR is good PR?—”
“Meaning?”
“Think about it. People think you’re dating me. The store is busier. You make more money.”
Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I need. I have two months to prove I can afford the expansion to Mr. Piersanti.
“What do you get out of it?”
“I—”
Oh my god, is he blushing? “Jack?” There’s a slight giggle to my question.
“Listen, no one really wants my help, and you can’t even fucking stand me. So I understand if you say no. I just thought it was a—” He turns around. “Never mind. It was a dumb idea.”
“No, wait,” I urge. “Go ahead. Finish that thought.”
“I spent a lot of time at the ice rink here in town growing up. It’s where I learned to skate, where I got into my first fight. The state championship banner that hangs there? I was center that year in high school.” He clears his throat, and something in his expression shifts, softer. “It’s falling apart. Developers want to demolish it and build beachfront condos. I want to save it. Create a free youth hockey program, give other kids the same shot I had.” He rushes that last bit like he’s embarrassed by his own sincerity.
I’m not really sure what to say. “That’s actually… nice. But where do I come into all of this?”
He stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets, then shifts his attention out to Main Street. “I just—you know what? I fucking hit my head last night, so clearly I’m not thinking straight. Forget it.”
He’s flustered. Vulnerable in a way I wasn’t expecting, and something in me melts before I can stop it. “No, I’ll listen.”
“For that to happen, I’ll need to work with a major sponsor. I have one that’s interested, and there’s a meeting set for the first week of January.” He rakes his hand through his hair. “There’s a catch though. They want someone community-focused and family-friendly.”
“Well, you’re already so great at that. Getting your brains bashed in will really win them over.”
He arches a brow, and I crack a grin.
“They want a wholesome small-town romance angle. Very Hallmark.”
