by Avery Flynn
“Peanut butter with the fork marks on the top. You vote oatmeal raisin?” When he nodded, she rolled her eyes. “Figures.”
Before the next round of bad food hot takes could happen, the waiter showed up with their plates. He took one look at his plate and sent up a thank-you to the chef because he was going to demolish his food. His grilled chicken smelled like heaven, and the veggies were steamed perfectly. The team nutritionist had done a whole series of workshops about how eating better could improve a player’s on-ice showing and that he wasn’t giving up on flavor by doing so. She’d converted him on the spot to a regimented preseason and during-season diet, and this chicken was his reward. Damn, it smelled delicious.
“Are you sniffing my mashed potatoes?” Zara asked as she scooped some up.
Yes. Please. Why couldn’t it be the off-season? “Absolutely not.”
“Whatever you say.” She lifted her fork, a garlic-butter mountain of starch heaven on it. “Sure you don’t want a bite?”
Fuck, he was tempted. Garlic mashed potatoes were happiness in food form, everyone knew that. He was balancing on the tightrope when Zara bent forward over the table, confirming that her freckles did go all the way down until they disappeared beneath the deep V of her shirt, and held out her fork.
“You’re the worst,” he said, giving in. “Just one to see if it’s as awful as every other kind.”
He should have taken the fork from her, but he didn’t. Instead, guided by whatever instinct always got him from point A to point B on the ice before an opposing player had the puck passed to him, he leaned toward her and let her feed him. Her eyes widened for a fraction of an instant before she gave him a wicked grin. The woman was 100 percent trouble and more tempting than the delicious buttery bomb in his mouth.
“Wasn’t that worth breaking your rule?” she asked, as smug a know-it-all as could be.
He shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“You,” she said, pointing at him with her fork, “are the world’s worst liar.”
That probably wasn’t wrong, which was why he needed to get away from mashed potato talk before he ratted himself out. So he steered the conversation to the basic first-date topics of work (work was pretty much the only thing both of them did for fun) and living in Harbor City (tourists were the worst). By the time the waiter came by to clear their plates, he had convinced himself that this whole Bramble date plan wasn’t going to blow up in his face. One date almost down, four more to go, and then it was back to life as usual. Thank God.
“Do you have any chocolate cake?” she asked the waiter, who nodded. Then she turned to Caleb and winked at him. “One slice of the double fudge chocolate cake with two forks, please—just in case.”
The waiter didn’t bother to hide his grin as he walked away.
“You’re bossy.”
She ran a fingertip over her tiny tattoo and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I’m right.”
Uh-huh. He wasn’t about to lose this face-off.
“Okay, Miss Right, how about we figure out what we’re going to say during these post-date interviews.” He paused for effect. “I’m thinking I’m madly in love with you at first sight.”
Her jaw nearly hit the table and rattled their glasses. Oh yeah, years on the ice had taught Caleb exactly how to deliver a check. Timing was everything.
He couldn’t wait to see her interview about him… There was no telling what this snarky pixie would put out there.
Chapter Four
The next day, Caleb picked up his already quick pace as soon as he spotted Zara’s distinctive bright-red, almost orange hair outside of Harris Tower. It wasn’t like he meant to, but it just sort of happened. If his mom noticed, she didn’t say anything, just increased her speed as people swerved out of their way. They were half a block away from the front door of Harris Tower, which housed the TV studio, when Zara noticed them. He knew the exact moment because one minute she was chatting with an older guy who looked too much like her to be anyone other than her dad, then the guy jerked his chin Caleb’s way, and a blush turned her cheeks pink.
“Is that her?” his mom asked.
“Yep.”
He didn’t have to look over at his mom to know she was giving him that tell-me-everything look. Pry? Britany Stuckey? Since the day he was born. So it wasn’t that he couldn’t look away from Zara so much that he didn’t want to have that discussion with his mom—the one where she poked and prodded and coached him through life like he was one of her players.
“She’s so tiny,” his mom said. “She sounded fiercer in her profile.”
“Don’t get fooled by appearances.” If his mom had seen Zara give him the stink eye and tell him to come on so they could just get their date over with, she would have known that already.
Britany let out a knowing chuckle. “You like her.”
“She’s a little salty, but yeah, she’s all right.” She’d agreed to this wild plan, so that was points in her favor.
Another few steps and they were in front of Zara and the man he assumed was her dad. What in the hell did he do now? Did they hug? Did they fist bump? Did they shake hands? Fuck. Welcome to Awkwardville, population Caleb Stuckey.
“Hey, Zara,” he said, because it wasn’t like his mouth ever waited for his brain to come up with a decent plan.
For once it worked out, though, as he introduced her to his mom and she introduced him to her dad, who did actually give him a fist bump. Then their parents started talking, leaving him and Zara to fill the space between them. But neither spoke. For once, his mouth stayed shut—probably because his eyes were so full of looking at her.
“How’s the ankle?” he eventually asked, looking down at her feet and shaking his head because again, she was wearing super-tall fuck-me heels.
“Better,” she said. “Thanks.”
“That’s a relief.” His phone vibrated in his jeans pocket as the alarm for the interview went off. “You ready to go make the people of Harbor City think that the totally-not-gonna-happen just might?”
…
Zara wasn’t ready outside, or during the elevator ride up to the studio standing way too close to Caleb for comfort, or when she walked out into the TV studio. Why in the hell had she ever thought this was a good idea?
The Harbor City Wake Up studio looked more impressive on TV. Not that Zara had known what to expect, but when she watched at home, it looked downright expansive with its fake living room on one end where the guests had their little chats with the host, a kitchenette in the middle for demonstrations, and a news desk on the other end where the headlines were announced. Shockingly, the whole set looked like it would fit in her studio apartment. She and her dad were sitting on one couch while Caleb and his mom were sitting on the one next to them. The single oversize chair across from them where Asha would sit was empty.
“It’s like the TARDIS on Opposite Day,” her dad said as he adjusted the tie he definitely was not used to wearing. “Bigger on the outside.”
She couldn’t disagree.
Turning, she lowered her voice and asked, “Now, you remember the plan?”
“You say that like I’m not always there for you.” He gave her a crooked grin. “You know I will always have my favorite girl’s back.”
Zara fiddled with the hem of her flowy blue top and clamped her mouth shut so hard, she wasn’t sure if her jaw would ever work again. She loved her dad. Without a doubt, he loved her, too. But after Mom left, he kind of melted into being the good-time guy, everyone in the neighborhood’s favorite buddy.
He was the guy who bought everyone in the bar a round to celebrate her winning an art contest that he was sure was a sign of amazing things to come. It would have been a sweet gesture if he hadn’t bought the drinks with the family rent money. Then there was the time he was supposed to be paying the electric bill in person and in cash because it was late and ended up getting waylaid at the track because his friend had told him about a sure thing. Or the time… She shook her
head. The seemingly infinite number of times her dad, the dreamer, had tossed away the good enough in the here and now for the possibility of great in the future only to lose both were legendary.
Her dad wasn’t a bad guy. He was actually very kind, funny, and sweet. He just wasn’t always in constant contact with the harsh realities of the world—and the man loved to go off script—especially when he was on the high of a sure-to-be-a-winner idea like becoming an actor.
“Dad, I need you to restate the plan for this interview.” She held her breath, waiting for his answer with the pent-up anxiety she imagined reality TV dance moms had watching their kids hit the stage.
Her dad shook his head and all but rolled his eyes, but he said it. “We’re skeptical of the entire situation. We’re not nasty about it but just aren’t totally on board with him, but he’s got the hots for you.”
Zara let out a relieved breath and allowed herself to believe that they might just pull this off.
Four dates. All you have to survive are four more dates to get to what you really want: one step closer to getting face time with Helene Carlyle.
And if to make that happen, she had to sit on a couch with her dad and tell a stranger—and a good chunk of Harbor City—about her dates, then she could suffer through it.
“Don’t you want to kind of give yourself permission to have that dream, though, to open yourself up to the possibility of this guy being the one?” her dad asked.
“No, Dad.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s not.” End of story. She wasn’t about to allow anything to disrupt her plans. “I’m here for a reason, and it’s not to fall in love with someone I went out with to help you get your SAG card.”
He looked like he was about to argue, but the arrival of Harbor City Wake Up host Asha Kapoor stopped him. Zara couldn’t blame him. It was a little intimidating seeing someone who was usually only seen on a screen or huge billboards. Their sudden gawking didn’t seem to bother Asha, though, who breezed into the living room part of the set where they were sitting. Zara, her dad, Caleb, and his mom all stood up.
“You must be Zara. I’m so excited to meet you.” Asha reached out and shook Zara’s hand before turning to her dad. “And here’s Jasper Ambrose, the proud papa. We are going to have a wonderful time. Don’t you worry about anything—it’ll just be a fun chat.” Her mouth tightened with displeasure when she turned her attention to Caleb and his mom. “Shall we do this?”
The word “no” bubbled up inside Zara, but she shoved it back down as everyone started to take their seats. Before they could, though, Asha’s producer stopped them, swapping their seating positions so Zara sat with Caleb and her dad sat with Britany. Her couch seemed a lot smaller with Caleb on it, his thigh brushing hers tormenting her already heightened sense of awareness. It was his leg touching hers, for God’s sake. It hadn’t been that long since she’d had sex. Okay, it had been that long since she’d had good sex, and there was a difference. Add that to her going-on-TV nerves and, yeah, she was over-aware of everything. It had nothing to do with Caleb. It was this whole bizarre situation.
She could do this. After all, how many people watched morning TV?
The flash of surly Asha had sent Caleb’s way disappeared, and Asha transformed into the woman people knew on TV: friendly, open, curious.
“Good morning, Harbor City, it’s time to wake up,” Asha said. “Today, we’re celebrating being the number one morning show in Harbor City, with more viewers than any other morning show anywhere in the nation, and we have something super fun for you. I am so excited to kick off the show this morning with Ice Knights defenseman Caleb Stuckey, his mom—and legendary high school hockey coach—Britany Stuckey, local miniatures artisan Zara Ambrose, and her dad, Jasper Ambrose. They are part of a fun new experiment from the folks at Bramble Dating that combines the technology of online date matching with its many algorithms and the old-fashioned guidance of parental advice. Welcome, all of you!”
“Thank you for having us, Asha. Zara and I just love your show. I watch it every morning at Doodle Bee’s Coffee Shop.” Her dad made direct eye contact with the camera. “Hey, everyone, I can’t wait to see you all there for the tuna plate lunch special later today. It’s delicious food at a delicious price.”
Oh God. Zara stopped breathing. Her dad had made a side deal.
He never had coffee at Doodle Bee’s. He was a Clifford’s Diner man all the way. There was no way he’d deliver a plug like that with all the subtlety of someone crunching their way through a bag of chips at a funeral without a paycheck. And if he’d made one deal, her dad had to have made more. What was next, Lucky Louie’s Lingerie?
“How lovely, Jasper,” Asha said, her tone expressing the exact opposite sentiment. “Now, Zara, what were your first thoughts about Caleb?” Asha leaned forward, as if she couldn’t bear to miss a single syllable of the answer.
She gulped, not sure where to start. “My first thought was that he’s huge, because he’s super tall. He seemed nice enough, but I’m withholding judgment for now.”
Uptight? Her? Yes, she totally sounded like she was wrapped tighter than a slice of wedding cake about to be put in the freezer, but she could live with that, and it was part of the plan they’d developed. He would be the all-in admirer—all the better to help his image—and she’d be the yeah-not-gonna-happen person based in reality because come on, it was not gonna happen. The man professed to hate mashed potatoes while she’d never met a starch she didn’t immediately love. He was an über-rich athlete while she was busting ass with her Etsy miniatures store to make ends meet. He was big, imposing, and cocky. She was… Well, she was short, freckled, and sarcastic. Anyway, she had things she wanted to do with her life, and a six-two hockey player wasn’t one of them.
Asha gave her a come-on-it’s-just-us-girls look. “Did you think he was cute?”
Heat smacked Zara in both cheeks. Having this conversation while sitting next to the person in question wasn’t awkward at all. Resisting the urge to look up and double-check that he was still there, since he’d been keeping his mouth shut after they’d walked in, she took a deep breath and tried to think of something to say.
“‘Cute’ wouldn’t be the word I would use.” Overwhelming? Solid? Teasing? The perfect amount of unusually attractive because his smirk and crooked nose edged him from the land of cute and into oh-my-yes territory? “But there’s something about him that makes you take notice.”
“Are you kidding?” Britany let out a loud scoff. “He’s a professional athlete in his prime. Of course she thought he was handsome.”
Jasper stiffened and responded in a tone of high offense. “I’m pretty sure my girl knows what she means.” He turned to face the camera. “After all, she did attend the Ryerson’s Academy for Learning, which offers all sorts of courses on a wide variety of subjects for the curious student at a reasonable price.”
Next to her, Caleb tried to cover his laugh with a cough. She glared up at him. This was not funny. Her “date,” however, seemed to disagree. He had his lips pressed together, and not a sound escaped, but his shoulder shaking gave him away. They made eye contact, and despite her better judgment of the direness of the situation, her mouth twitched.
She fought it, but the longer she looked at him while her dad continued to talk about the tutor she’d gone to only once in high school for SAT test prep, the harder it became to ignore the urge to giggle. The whole situation was ridiculous. Pretty soon her dad would be endorsing her former preschool and Anchovy’s groomer.
“Not saying she doesn’t,” Britany continued, her voice drowning out Jasper’s #SponCon, “but my Caleb is a total catch for anyone.”
“Which is why he, a professional athlete with buckets of money and women throwing themselves at him, has to go on Bramble,” Jasper said, bringing the drama that, no doubt, he figured this reality TV needed.
Britany shot Jasper a look that would have sent most of the population running. “H
e had his reasons.”
Caleb froze beside her, laughter draining from him and replaced by a tension that radiated out like the aftershocks of an atom bomb.
“Yes, those reasons,” Asha said, a gotcha gleam in her eyes as she turned to face Caleb. “Let’s chat about those.”
Oh. Shit.
…
“So about that viral video,” the host said, glancing up from her notes with a decidedly less-than-friendly smile on her face. “Your teammates called women ‘puck bunnies’ and declared their prowess with them positively impacted their game. You sat silently as they did so. That fact was not taken well by the women of Harbor City.”
Caleb’s lungs stopped functioning for a second, and cold, clammy beads of sweat made his palms damp. If there was one thing in the world he could do, it would be to take back that moment of trying to fit in with his teammates—make them see him as another one of the guys instead of the weirdo whose lips moved when he read email on the back of the plane during road trips.
“I was an asshole.” The declaration came out before his brain had a chance to check it, but it wasn’t wrong. “Sorry, forgot about being on TV there for a second. I was a jerk and I should have shut that talk down. I’m sorry.”
“Is that what you told your date, Zara, about it?” Asha asked, going in for the kill.
He fought to keep the white noise in his head from getting any louder as his anxiety ratcheted up. His nerves were jumping like popcorn, and it must have been obvious as hell because Zara angled her right leg just enough that it pressed against his, a silent signal that he wasn’t alone. It was just enough to slow the spinning whirl inside his head and help him ease back against the couch.
Right as Asha opened her mouth, no doubt to ask a follow-up question, Zara started talking. “I didn’t know anything about the video beforehand, but he was up-front with me about it on our first date and I did look it up after I got home.” Zara pulled a face, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “It definitely was not a good look.”
“Are you concerned, Jasper?” Asha asked, her voice filled with concern that almost sounded heartfelt. “What is your advice to your daughter about dating someone who didn’t stop others from saying something like that?”