Page 40 of Put a Rink on It

“I didn’t look at each individual price, but the designer had high taste. And on my champagne budget, she went all out. Glad it will get good use soon.”

Other than mattresses and the couch in the living room, the apartment came furnished. Once I decide how long I’ll be here, I’ll figure out what I want to buy and swap out.

We haven’t worked out all the details for our private relationship, but for the occasional visitor—Kaitlyn, my parents, a dinner party with the team—we have to make it believable that we live in one room and share a bed. We didn’t discuss anything further after I mentioned it before. I don’t want to upset her or make her uncomfortable. The whole situation is awkward enough.

“What time is your practice?”

“I have to be there at eleven. It’s about a twenty-minute drive to the arena, so I’ll leave here around ten-thirty. Did you decide what you want to do? Take public transportation or have Raul drive you home?”

Or do you want to stay?

I don’t let the question leave my brain. She’s got a life, one that currently doesn’t involve us living together. Soon, but not yet. Another circumstance we have to work out.

“What’s on your agenda for the rest of the day? Like when you’re all done with work.” She chuckles, the sound livening up the dull space. “It’s still odd to me playing hockey is ‘work’ for you. Rationally, I get it, but a part of my brain can’t reconcile it.”

“It’s been my job for nine years, and you’re still stuck on it.”

“I said it was odd. Someone like you who’s well acquainted with peculiar things should get it.”

Instead of addressing her comment, I answer her question. “I’ll come home and take a nap before my cooking lesson.”

She folds her legs into a pretzel, situated to face me, her expression full of joy. “Oh, did you find someone to come here or did you have to sign up for something?”

“I found a local chef who does privates in her clients’ homes.”

A brow lifts. “Her?” she challenges, an unreadable emotion in her tone. “Should your fake fiancée be worried about this?”

Another aspect of our relationship I hadn’t considered—dealing with people who might threaten our bond.

“Does my fake fiancée not trust me?” I counter.

“She wants to say yes, but since this is the first test of the relationship, she can’t be sure.”

As much as I could drag this out, there will be plenty of other times something like this will come up. Putting a kibosh on it now will set the tone as we move forward.

“She’s ten years older than my mom. Married to her high school sweetheart with kids and grandkids. Even if I wanted to try something, I don’t think she’ll be interested.” I set my gaze on Marina’s, watching her reaction.

She swipes a hand across her brow, a low “phew” escaping. “How do you know all this information?”

“It came up during our phone interview.”

“Of course it did. You were always good at getting all kinds of information out of people.”

“Yep, still am.” Because I ask and genuinely want to know the information. People naturally open up to me. It’s a gift.

“Does she know who you are? Is she a hockey fan?”

“Not herself, but sounds like her grandson might be. She already signed an NDA, so don’t worry about that piece.”

“Speaking of Ember⁠—”

“Um, we weren’t,” I interrupt.

Marina pins me with a glare. “As if the NDA was your idea.”

“What if it was? What would you say then?” I toss back, aiming for playful. I’m not sure if it comes across that way. I wait curiously for her answer.

“That you’re finally learning what she’s teaching you. But can I call her and ask her myself? We have things to discuss with her anyway.” Her gaze travels down to where the ring’s still on her finger, and her lips curl into a smile.