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"Liar," I murmur, taking the exit.
"Whatever. I like reading trashy magazines. It's not my fault if you just happen to be in them sometimes," she says with a loud sniff.
"What about you?"
"I'm never in trashy magazines," she says, and then her face falls into another adorable pout. "I probably will be tomorrow though. That's your fault, by the way. Just in case you forgot."
I laugh, shaking my head at her as we roll to a stop at the light. Christ, I want to kiss the shit out of her. "You won't be in them tomorrow."
"How do you know?"
"Kelsey is working magic for us," I say and then quickly explain her plan about Kayne's. "But that's not what I meant, angel. I meant, do you date?"
"Apparently only when someone rigs a contest," Laney says, turning to bat her lashes at me. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
"Nope," I lie, taking a left when the light changes. "Not a thing."
She cracks, giving me a tiny smile. "You're less of an asshole than I thought."
"In my defense, you caught me off guard yesterday."
"You suggested signing my boobs."
"Yeah…I have no defense for that. It was not my finest moment."
"You think?"
I grin, turning to look at her. "I like you giving me shit."
She rolls her eyes at me, but I see the smile dancing at her lips. She likes giving me shit, but she also likes me…and that's not me being over-confident. She keeps stealing little glances at me when she thinks I'm not looking.
"Do you really sign women's boobs?"
"Hell no." I cringe at the thought. "Fans ask us to sign all sorts of wild shit, but most of us refuse. The last thing we want is for someone to say we were inappropriate. Coach would murder us." I pause. "Actually, he'd let Kelsey murder us."
"I like her."
"I'll deny saying this if it gets back to her," I mutter, "but I like her too. She's good at what she does. Bossy as fuck, but good." Most of the guys have their own publicists in addition to Kelsey. I fired mine two years ago…which is right around the time camera crews stopped showing up everywhere I went. Huh. Maybe she does deserve a raise.
"If you don't date, why did you agree to thisWin a Datething?" Laney asks.
"I didn't agree. I got roped into it. It's my punishment for punching Jackson Hurst in the face."
"Ouch," she says, cringing.
"Fuck. That didn't come out right," I hurry to say, hitting the brake as the light ahead turns from yellow to red. "I mean, I didget roped into it as punishment. I was a little pissed about it, but once I knew you entered, it started feeling more like a reward. Getting to spend time with you could never be a punishment."
She turns wide eyes on me, her lip caught between her teeth. "You shouldn't say things like that, Weston."
"Like what?" I ask, trying to figure out what I said to upset her. "You don't like it when I curse? I'll try to stop cursing so much."
"Not that." She rolls her eyes, and then seems to think better of it. "Actually, you shouldn't curse so much either. You have a lot of young fans. But I meant you shouldn't say things you don't mean. You don't have to pretend this date is anything more than you being a good sport."
"I'm not pretending," I murmur, turning in my seat to face her. "Once I knew you entered this contest, I couldn't fucking wait to take you out."
She stares at me for a long moment, scrutinizing my expression as if trying to see if I'm feeding her a line of bullshit or not. There's a hint of vulnerability in her gaze, as if she thinks it's completely outside the realm of possibility that I'd be interested in her. Which is crazy if you ask me. Whywouldn'tI want to take her out?
I reach out, running the back of my hand down the side of her cheek. Her skin is so soft. I bet it's the same everywhere. "I like you, angel. You're beautiful, smart, funny as hell, and you like hockey. As soon as I saw you, I wanted to get to know you. That hasn't changed."
