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I need ice cream and a good soak in a hot bath tonight. How else am I going to come to terms with the fact that Weston Davies might, in fact, be seeing my boobs soon?
"Deal," he says, giving me a sweet smile that I feel deep in my womb.
Chapter Four
Weston
"What did you do?"Kelsey growls into the phone.
"You're grumpy," I say, quirking a brow.
"It's eight o'clock in the morning, Wes."
"I know. I can tell time." She really doesn't give me nearly enough credit. Yes, I can be an asshole when people bug me. And yes, I can be aggressive on the ice. But does that mean I'm a bad guy or that I lack brain cells? No. I just happen to like hockey more than most people. I'm actually a fairly intelligent man.
"If you aren't in trouble, why are you calling me this early?"
"Oh. I need advice."
"On what?"
"Is it too early to call Laney?"
Kelsey doesn't say anything. I pull the phone away from my ear to make sure I didn't accidentally mute her. I didn't.
"Kelsey?"
"You called me at eight in the morning to ask if it wastoo earlyto call Laney?" she asks.
"Yes…?"
"I do not get paid nearly enough," she mutters. "I'm twenty-five and I'm getting gray hair.Youare giving me gray hair."
"I'm guessing that means you don't want to know about the paparazzi camped outside my gate?" I flick the curtain back to peer out. "They've been there all night."
"That's because your girl turned you down last night," she reminds me, which is a little rude. Laney didn't turn me down…per se. She just took a little extra convincing. "And you never date. Of course they're all over this Valentine's Day contest."
"I don't like it," I mutter.
"Should have thought about that before you punched Jackson Hurst," she says, her tone sugary sweet.
I choose to ignore her. Hurst deserved that punch. The bastard charged Gray. Damn near broke his hand. Gray was out for three games because of it. Hurst is lucky all I did was punch him.
"They'll stress Laney out."
Kelsey goes quiet for a moment. "You really like her?"
"Obviously."
"Fine. I already reserved a table for you at Kayne's. We'll let it slip that you're taking Laney there for dinner tonight. You figure out where to take her instead. Post a few selfies of your date to Insta afterward, and we'll make sure the cameras leave you alone. And Wes?"
"Yeah?"
"Fuck it up and I'm killing you."
"I won't–"
She hangs up on me before I can tell her I won't fuck it up. I'm in the middle of scrolling to my contacts to call her back when her text pops up.
