Dirty Talker (Slayers Hockey #4) - Mira Lyn Kelly Page 0,8

comes to bringing fake girlfriends home.”

“Okay, then what exactly does ‘I won’t be all over you’ mean? You won’t be groping my breasts or shoving your tongue down my throat in front of your parents?” I guess I’d just assumed that much. But suddenly, talking about it seems like an excellent plan. “In fact, why don’t we clarify what you will do, just so there aren’t any surprises?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Would you be okay with my arm around you? Not all the time, but like when we meet my parents and friends?”

His arm? “Your arm around me is fine.”

“I’ll try to go easy on the rest, but just kick me if I’m too much.”

The rest? “What are you normally like with the girls you date?”

His head wags back and forth. “First, I don’t date that many girls. I mean, date-date. Not just— Never mind.”

And there it is, a rosy spot high on his cheekbone. It’s kind of cute to see a big, tough hockey player embarrassed. “I think I get it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the touchy type. I like to be close. I’m a hugger. When my girlfriend’s got pretty hair or a nice dress, I like to touch it. I like to hold hands. Kiss.” His brows pull together. “Not with tongue or anything, but— It doesn’t matter.”

“Right.” And suddenly I’m thinking about Davis, my college boyfriend. How I’d reached for his hand when he came to the house for dinner, and the look he’d given me made it plenty clear hand-holding wasn’t what he’d come for. Too bad for him, my father had blazed past him, phone at his ear, without so much as a second glance, and then closed himself into his office for the night. I didn’t invite Davis back.

“So the men I’ve dated aren’t generally like that. Not so outwardly affectionate, anyway. No PDA.” They greet me with a kiss on the cheek when they pick me up.

Except Craig, the man I dated for two months, who never actually kissed me. Ours was a polite parting, to say the least.

Wade nods. “Cool. No PDA.”

Only that subtle tightening around his eyes and mouth says not cool.

“Won’t people notice if you aren’t doing any of that? Not so much the kissing, but the other stuff.”

The sound he makes is noncommittal, but I’m already imagining friends and family I shouldn’t be concerned about speculating about the longevity of our relationship. Discussing how clearly not into me he is. How rigid I seem. And all the ways I must be lacking.

My competitive, goal-oriented side doesn’t like it.

Besides, the whole point of this week is for me to get a vacation from my reality.

“That’s very considerate, Wade. But you’ve gone to some lengths here to convince these people I’m something to you I’m not.”

This time the shift of his eyes toward me is slower. “I have.”

I go for a casual shrug, trying for the easy posture he always has. “So why chance failure by trying to be polite? We need to commit or why bother at all, right?”

He licks his lips. Opens his mouth and closes it again. Narrows his eyes on the road ahead and then on me, the corner of his mouth hitched the smallest degree. The suggestion’s not what he was expecting.

Wade flicks the signal for the next exit. “Let’s stop at the station up here.”

“For gas?” The indicator shows nearly a full tank.

“I’ll top her off, but maybe we just give it a trial run. See how it goes without an audience first, yeah? And if it doesn’t feel right, no sweat. Every relationship is different.”

I cough, straightening in my seat as heat flames up my neck and cheeks. “You—you don’t think I can pull it off?”

The shake of his head is slow. “That’s not what I said.”

“But?”

He laughs. “Put that little arched brow away. Just… hold on.” He flips the visor down and opens the vanity mirror in front of me. “What do you see?”

I look, taking inventory of the woman reflected there. Her arms are tightly crossed over her chest, lips pursed into a slight frown, and there’s a buckle between eyes that are narrowed like she’s studying a problem that needs to be broken down.

Honestly, I don’t spend that much time in front of a mirror beyond checking to ensure I’m putting a professional image out there. That even though I’m younger than most everyone I work with, I don’t come across like I am. And it’s somewhat startling to see how