Rory returns with a drink for me, and I sip it, grateful for something to do with my hands.
“I’m glad you came,” he murmurs, and his mouth brushes my ear before he presses a quick kiss to my temple.
A shiver rolls down my back. He’s getting more bold with this fake relationship charade, and I wish I could say I’m annoyed by it but… I’m not.
My smile is a bit shy. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“Well, after the other day…” He glances back to me, rubbing the back of his neck. “I got you something. To say sorry.”
“You already said sorry.”
“I know.” A slight frown creases his forehead as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out an envelope. “I wanted to show you I meant it.”
He’s wearing that same earnest expression he wore at the rink, like he’s in physical pain. A lock of hair has fallen onto his forehead and my gaze lingers on it.
“Open it,” he says, tilting his chin at the envelope now in my hand.
I slide out an email confirmation. It’s for a weekend at a nearby vacation destination, Harrison Hot Springs—the luxury suite at a really nice hotel and two full days at the spa.
“It’s for you and Pippa,” he says quickly. “You can go whenever you want.” He gives me a tight, vulnerable smile that makes my heart ache. “You said spending time with Pippa made you feel worthy.”
In my head, the glowing sign that says Rory Miller is an evil, selfish hockey player flickers, losing power.
“You’re supposed to be an asshole.” I keep my tone light and humorous as I stare at the paper, and he huffs a quiet laugh.
That was the guy I signed up for when we agreed to this. Not this Rory. Not the sweet, earnest, honest guy who apologizes like he means it.
I’m starting to think I was wrong. Maybe I don’t know Rory Miller at all.
“I wasn’t pretending,” Rory says quietly, eyes on me.
About… the kiss? I search his deep blue gaze, blue like my dress, and there isn’t enough air in here.
“About the dress.” Rory’s mouth tips into an affectionate smile. “You look beautiful.”
Warm, liquid feelings gather inside me, swirling and looping.
“The dress cost more than what I make in a month,” I admit, laughing a little.
“How many times do I need to say it?” His voice is low and soft as he smiles down at me, gaze lingering on my hair, my dress, with his trademark cocky, knowing grin. “I’m going to spend money on you.”
Longing aches in my chest. It’s not the money; it’s the gesture. I’ve always been independent and stubborn. No one takes care of me.
I like it. Rory’s smiling down at me like I’m precious to him, and the way he kissed me, hungry and needy and desperate like he couldn’t wait a second longer?
I liked all of that, too.
Worry pulls tight in my chest. We’ve got until January first, and then this is all over, so I’m not going to get used to it.
“Besides,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets, “I’m not talking about the dress. I’m talking about you. You’re stunning.”
“Thank you.” My heart gives a heavy thud against the front wall of my ribcage. No one’s ever called me beautiful like that, so earnestly. “For everything. For the dress, for this.” I hold up the envelope. “I’m starting to think you’re secretly nice.”
He smiles at me, and yeah, I’m fucked, because there’s a weird, intense feeling around my heart that I’ve never felt before.
A glass-tinkling noise rings out and Ward waits as the conversation dies down.
“You have the luckiest sex doll in the world,” I whisper to Rory, smiling, and he shakes with laughter.
CHAPTER 18
RORY
“Thank you for coming tonight.” Ward’s eyes glint. “I thought we might start the evening with some healthy competition.”
Interest ripples through the party and the players straighten up, listening. Across the room, McKinnon glances at me.
I step closer to Hartley, sliding an arm around her waist.
Fuck. That kiss. It melted my brain, it was so good. I’ve never had a kiss like that in my life.
“The game is Assassin,” Ward continues. “You’ll receive a Polaroid of yourself. If another participant knocks you out of the game, you’re dead. Hand it over to them.”
The energy in the room crackles with excitement as people murmur to each other. Hockey players. We’re competitive as hell, even at a stupid game like this. Hazel’s eyes gleam with interest as we exchange a look.