Page 29 of Playing His Game

“If you don’t show up to a home game soon, people are going to think it’s weird.” They might even start to gossip about the whole relationship being fake.

“You just want me to take over your media scrum. No, no, don’t deny it. You might be able to pull the innocent act with others, but I see through you now, Adam Murphy, to your shrewd, manipulative center. Secretly a calculating diva. I should have known.”

Adam snorted. “Right. Because I wantmoremedia attention.” He shoved away the thought that he’d probably find comfort in having Mo there with him, taking the heat, answering questions. Using his claws and sharp tongue in Adam’s defense instead of against him.

“Fiiine. For you, pookie bear, I will brave the crush and chaos of the Du Pont”—he shuddered as he said the name—“Center and watch you be all manly as you hit vulcanized rubber in front of thousands.”

“Gee, thanks.” Adam hoped he sounded dry and sarcastic and notgrateful.

“Maybe I’ll luck out and stumble my way in front of the media.”

“Of course you’d think that was fun.”

“I do love attention,” Mo agreed.

“Even if you don’t get to make up stuff about our fake sex life?”

“I’ll tell everyone you rescue possums in your spare time and rub my feet and always let me pick what to watch, even though it’s alwaysDrag Raceand you hate it.”

“Don’t make me fake shameDrag Race!”

“Fine, I’ll say it’sK-Pop Demon Hunters.”

Okay, yeah. That would work. Probably. He’d never seen it. “I’ll send you the tickets.”

“Don’t forget a jersey,” Mo said. “I can’t be showing up to my fake boyfriend’s real hockey game underdressed.” He paused. “Not a game-worn one, please. Have mercy on my nose and the noses of those seated near me.”

Adam flicked the signal to turn onto Mo’s street. “You never let me have any fun.”

“Ha!” He just caught Mo’s grin, a weak reflection in the windshield. “Look who’s talking.”

Twenty yards down, the garage at Mo’s house started going up. “Now. Humor me and drive in. I want to see what’s going on under this thing.”

5

Wonders never ceased, Mo thought. It turned out Adam Murphy was not the world’s most boring hockey player. He was just unexpectedly tied up in his own head about stuff he couldn’t control. Maybe Mo couldn’t relate, but at least he sympathized.

But now that they could share the same space without wanting to murder each other, Mo needed to figure out what was up with the Land Rover.

He had Adam drive up onto the lift blocks—unnecessary given the height of the frame, but Mo liked having room to look around—and then hopped on the creeper and rolled underneath.

Oh.

Shit.

“Hey,” Mo said, “when were you in an accident?”

He didn’t need to see Adam’s face to register his surprise. “You can tell it was in an accident? Uh, maybe eight months ago, I guess?”

Eight months. Jesus Christ. Mo released a forceful breath and tried to keep his tone neutral. “Who’d you take it to for repairs? I’m guessing you didn’t go through insurance.”

“Uh—my usual garage? It’s close to my place, so I take it there for service.”

Mo inhaled deeply, then rolled himself out from under the car. “You should sue them.”

Adam blinked down at him. “What?”

Rolling to his feet, Mo gestured for Adam to get on the creeper. “I’ll show you.”