Page 92 of Put a Rink on It

“So, what’s really going on with my brother.” Kaitlyn starts in the minute we find a booth at the bar. We haven’t even ordered drinks, and she hits me with this.

She shakes off her coat, revealing a black, lacy, long-sleeve shirt with a mock ruffle neck and a floral texture, with a cami underneath so it’s not at all see-through. It looks amazing on her. Her makeup is perfect, and her hair falls in loose waves over her shoulder. It’s a look that should take hours, but I doubt it does for her. She’s used to being glamorous for the camera to promote herself and the books she reads.

“What are you talking about?” I hope my tone doesn’t convey the feelings of doubt and anxiety swirling through me, that she can’t detect the deception.

I slip out of my coat, and she nods because I’m wearing the red dress we bought earlier today. Once I modeled it for Nero, he wouldn’t let me take it off. Until he realized his eyes weren’t the only ones who’d see me wearing it.

It’s not my usual taste, but Kaitlyn made me try it on. It’s chiffon with flutter sleeves—Kaitlyn had to teach me that term—and hits just below my mid-thigh. Highly inappropriate for February in Tahoe, but “it’s not like we’ll be walking outside long. You can handle the walk to the car and back.” When I stepped out of the dressing room, she took one look at me, marched me right back inside, ordered me to take it off, and insisted I hand it over. Once she'd claimed it, she stomped off to buy it.

“How did you keep your relationship secret for over a year? Better yet, why? Why not shout it from the rooftops you were dating the Best Defenseman for the Minnesota Storm?”

Damn, she’s good, but easily distracted when the server comes to take our order. I squirm under her scrutiny, barely remembering the minor details on the spot. Especially after the hottest sex of my life.

Watching myself in the mirror—when my eyes remained open—as Nero turned me on was hot on a level I didn’t think was possible. I want to order a mirror and ship it to our place so we can do it again.

And then again.

And over and over until it loses its appeal.

If it ever would.

Thinking about it has my legs rubbing together, but Kaitlyn’s too involved with the drinks menu to notice.

“I’m gonna have the pink lemonade vodka spritz.” She glances from the menu to me. “Marina?”

“I’ll have a Cosmo.”

“We’ll also have the appetizer sampler and a glass of water for each of us. And we’ll keep the menus for the next round.”

The server nods and smiles Kaitlyn’s way, but he’s way too young for her, though I’m not sure that would stop her.

“If I’m your wingwoman tonight, I need to know what kind of guys you’re into. Athletes? Nerds? Billionaires? Cowboys? A masked man, perhaps?”

She points a finger in my direction. “Don’t think you’re dodging my question that easily, but I’ll allow the reprieve because I want a guy to take me home tonight. It’s been way too long, and a woman’s got needs.”

My face flushes. A few months ago, I was in the same boat, but my current situation—a couple of orgasms before we met up—is much nicer.

“Pretending he’s not my brother. He’s not my brother.” She shivers once, clearing away the energy, and I can’t help but laugh. “How’s the sex with your fiancé?”

I lean back against the booth, crossing my arms over my chest. “Scorching. Best I ever had. Can’t get enough.” Our sexual chemistry isn’t something I have to lie about or fake. It’s one hundred percent truthful.

Her mouth opens, but she shakes her head, thinking better of what she’s going to say. “Let’s leave it there. For the record, I hate you on principle.”

“Before Nero, I was in your shoes. A lot can change in a short time.”

“When did you guys get together?”

“After the Cup win.” I dig deep for the details we shared with my family a few weeks ago, figuring if a few facts get mixed up, no one will be the wiser. Enough time will pass before Juliet and Kaitlyn are together, if it even comes up then.

“My earlier question remains. Why keep the relationship with Nero a secret?”

The server returns with our beverages as she mentions her brother. He snaps. “That’s why you look familiar. You’re Nero Champion’s girl.” I can’t tell if he’s excited about recognizing me or my famous fiancé.

“Nero Champion’s girl” has a nice ring to it. I don’t hate it.

“I am.”

He looks around. “Is he here? I’d love to meet him. He’s my favorite player. Did you know he’s from around here?” He smacks his head. “Of course, you do. You’re marrying the guy. So, is he here?”