Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (31)

I let her fill the screen with her own rules, hoping it makes her feel at ease with all this.

“Flowers, chocolates, expensive gifts. We don’t need to do all that,” she says. “People know you have money. And this is fake, so you don’t need to spend anything on me.”

“Flowers aren’t going to break the bank.”

“I don’t even like flowers.”

I’ve learned from my mother that if a woman—anyone for that matter—says they don’t like flowers, it’s probably because they’ve never received any. Or they’re deathly allergic.

“None? You don’t have a favorite flower?”

She shakes her head, continuing to type the ridiculous rule. It doesn’t make sense to me, and not because I haven’t been in a serious relationship before, but because she seems uncomfortable with the prospect of someone doing something so simple for her.

I take the phone from her this time and type dates. “We’ll need to be seen out in Toronto a few times for this to look believable.”

She quirks a brow. “When’s the last time you went on a date?”

“Last week. With you,” I say matter-of-factly.

Sage’s laugh is delicate. It reminds me of the first time I heard it when we were at the lake, and it almost makes me smile, but then I realize she’s laughing at me.

“That was not a date. It was practically an auction-ordered hangout.”

An auction?ordered hangout? That was the first date I’ve been on in years, and she’s boiled it down to hanging out?

I relax my jaw. “Then we’ll have to have one that counts.”

“Sure, but nothing over the top like last week. I’d be happy with falafel from a food truck and going to that old theater that plays Dirty Dancing once a month.”

“Dirty Dancing?”

“It’s my comfort movie. I watch it every year for my birthday too, with a McCain chocolate cake I share with Sean.” She points to her screen. “I’m watching it right now.” Her screen is paused on a couple swimming in a lake. Then she turns to me again. “So, what else?”

“We’ll have to attend the pre-playoffs dinner hosted by the Thunder’s owners. And you should probably come to one of my games next week.”

The prospect doesn’t seem to make her nervous, which is a win.

“I have a small performance coming up next Thursday, so I can come any day after that.”

“Then it’s settled. I come to your performance, you’ll come to my game.”

She freezes. “What—no. You don’t have to come to my performance. It’s really small.”

I quirk a brow at her reaction. “Are you telling me no?”

“It’s not the ideal night out. Don’t feel obligated because I’m going to your game.”

“I’ll decide how I spend my Thursday night, Sage,” I say. “Anything else for our list?”

Sage sighs, then taps her chin in contemplation. “You already know about my family and my failing career. I don’t have any crazy exes to worry about. I think.”

“You think you don’t have crazy exes?”

Her expressive eyes shutter. “I’m sure.”

“I’m surprised we’ve hit something you’re not willing to share.”

She gnaws at her lip and stares at me through her dark lashes. “Let’s just say he recently reappeared in my life.”

“Is he bothering you?”

“No,” she says quickly. “He won’t interfere with us. You don’t need to worry.”

“That’s not why I asked. If he’s bothering you, I’ll take care of it.”

Sage fans her face. “That was hot. Keep up the whole protective boyfriend thing.”

I don’t pry further because she’s back to joking. But there’s a part of me that wants to know her for more than who she says she is. To see what’s under all those jokes.

“Should we practice kissing?”

Sage’s deflection works because I choke on my words and have a coughing fit. “No. There’s no need for any PDA,” I croak.

“At all? Do you need me to get tested or something? Because standing beside each other like a pair of cousins isn’t going to make this believable.”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

She cocks her head. “You expect me to believe that?”

“No PDA,” I affirm, and it gets her to stop trying to read me like a newspaper.

“Fine, but no other girls, then,” she says. “I’m not jealous, I just mean you should keep it hidden, at least where the media is concerned.”

“There won’t be any other girls.” There haven’t been in a long time.

“None?” Her brows raise in surprise. “Don’t stop doing what you do on my account.”

I realize why she’s lax about me seeing other women. And I hate it. Sage believing that shit strikes hotter than the rumors themselves. “You believe them?”

“I wouldn’t say I believe them,” she starts. “There are just a lot of headlines, and you don’t exactly date. But I know what it can be like in your world. It’s normal.”