Billy snaps his fingers to order another round, and I stifle a yawn. Before I can excuse myself, Jaxon cuts in smoothly.
“We should probably call it a night,” he says, his voice pitched low but firm. “It’s been a long-ass day, and I’m looking forward to some quiet time with you.”
He leans toward me, presses a kiss to my forehead, and suddenly the world tilts. My breath catches. I swear I can feel the heat of his lips radiate all the way through me, soft and steady, as if he’s branding me with a kind of tenderness I didn’t know I craved. Then his arm slides around me, pulling me against his side, and it’s ridiculous how easily I melt into him.
Good God, what is happening to me? This is supposed to be pretend. Just a quick cover for the night. Yet the way he holds me—protective, like I belong there—is everything I’ve never let myself want. It’s nice. Too nice. Dangerous.
A soft sound escapes me, halfway between a sigh and a moan, and I mask it with a quick nod. “Good idea. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
I dab at my lips with my napkin, trying to gather myself, and manage a polite smile for the others. “Thank you for inviting me. It was so nice getting to know you all.”
The table erupts in chatter, warm goodnights and teasing calls, and Jaxon takes the opportunity to rise. I reach for my purse, intent on paying my share, but his hand intercepts mine. Without breaking stride, he pulls a wad of bills from his wallet and drops them onto the table.
“This should cover it,” Jaxon says.
That’s when it hits me—he’s not just covering me, he’s covering everyone. My stomach twists. Dammit. He swooped in tonight to help me, and now the bill is on him too?
I’m about to protest, but is that what his girlfriend would do? That gives me pause, and something inside me tightens, because suddenly, strangely, I’m wondering what it would be like if this wasn’t an act at all.
We stand, and before I can argue, he’s already at my side, slipping my coat from the back of my chair. He holds it open, waiting. Heat prickles my cheeks as I slide my arms into the sleeves. The gentlemanly move doesn’t go unnoticed. A ripple of silence passes over the table, followed by a few low whistles and smirks.
As we head toward the door, I catch the way his teammates track us, curious eyes following like they’re studying a brand-new play unfolding right in front of them. I offer a small wave, and a couple of them wave back, grins tugging at their mouths. I’ve watched these men on my TV for years, but now I feel like I’ve somehow stepped into the arena, into their world.
Jaxon pauses mid-step. “Do you want to say hello?” His voice is casual, but I hear the edge beneath it. Hesitant. Protective.
I shrug, trying to keep my tone light. “I mean, I think we should. If you do.”
“They all seem rather curious,” he mutters through clenched teeth.
We pivot, weaving toward their table. “Hey, guys,” Jaxon says, his voice dipping into something that’s both proud and territorial. “This is Rowyn. My friend from Snowberry. We grew up together.”
Nash pushes a chair out for me. “Well then, come have a seat by me.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll push that chair back in.” Penn shoots him a warning look.
I laugh at Nash’s antics, which according to the things written about him by the paper I work for, is expected. “Don’t worry, we’re not staying.”
Nash starts to push his chair back. “Well, in that case, let me walk you out?—”
“Sit,” Nicklas snaps, dragging him back down by the sleeve as Jaxon cracks his knuckles, playfully, but…not. “Unless you want to be stopping pucks with one eye shut.”
The table erupts in laughter. I can’t help grinning, warmth spilling through me at the easy camaraderie.
“So you two must be…” Nash begins pointing a finger between the two of us. “Not just friends?”
“Shut the fuck up, Nash.” Jaxon shoots back. Then his hands are suddenly at my waist, pulling me against his side. “We’re friends, which is why I’m keeping her away from you.” He’s playing but damn, his touch burns through the layers of my coat.
Penn rolls his eyes but turns his focus to me. “Jaylynn’s been talking about giving you a call. Girls’ night. She’s still settling in, but you should connect.” He grabs a napkin and scribbles down a number before sliding it toward me.
“Wait, are you slipping her your digits, dude?” Nash cackles.
“She’s with Jaxon. And I’m engaged, you idiot,” Penn fires back.
I fumble for words, glancing over my shoulder to make sure the other table—the one where this whole charade started—can’t overhear. “I…we…we’re just friends.”
“Yeah, well, as soon as our boy saw you, he bailed on us,” Nolan, who’s been quiet up until now, calls out, his not-so-teasing tone making my chest go tight.
“Okay, we’re out,” Jaxon cuts in, his hand firm at my back as he steers me away.