Page 8 of Blue Line

“This is crazy,” Holt mutters.

“This is like that one trope in the books you read, dear,” my dad says.

“Oh, yes, fake dating, except this is a fake engagement.” Mom claps her hands together.

“You’re okay with this?” Holt asks our parents.

“They’re adults,” Becca interjects.

Holt says something else, but I ignore it, focusing my attention on the man in front of me.

“Thank you.”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, no problem.”

At this moment, I’d give anything to not be surrounded by my family. I want to know what he’s thinking. Probably that I’m crazy for asking him to do this. Or about what he’s going to ask for in return. I hope it’s not something ridiculous. There’s no way. He’s too nice to ask me to do something crazy. Right?

I’m sure it’ll end up being something like baking him cookies every week for a month or going to a random bakery in another city to get him a dessert he read about online. More of an inconvenience than anything else. But at this point, I don’t care. I’m that desperate to not have to show up to the party alone.

“Time to get back to making dinner,” Mom says, clapping her hands together. “Hads, can I get you to help me brown the beef? Holt or Becca, would one of you mind chopping up the garlic? We’ll mix it with the butter to make garlic bread.”

We snap into action, and I’m grateful for the distraction that is making dinner with my family, so I don’t have to think about what I proposed. What Weston and I are going to do.

It’s dangerous.

It’s playing with fucking fire. And I am going to get burned.

Chapter four

Wes

I am so absolutely fucked.

Absolutely and completely fucked.

I was going to agree to whatever favor Hadley asked me for because she’s her, and I don’t know if I could ever say no to her. But I was not expecting it to be that. It does give me an excuse to spend time with her, pretend she’s mine, even if it’s only for one night. I’ll take whatever I can get.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. We ate dinner. It was good. At least I assume it was, Momma A’s food always is. We had dessert. I think I had dessert. I don’t actually know. We played a card game, but don’t ask me what or who won because I have zero idea.

I was too distracted by what Hadley asked me, no, what she practically begged me to do—be her fake fiancé. And I had to force myself not to say yes the second she asked. Not to suggest that maybe we make it not fake. But I couldn’t say that. Holt would kill me. I’m not good enough for her. So instead, I’ll pretend to be her fiancé.

Now, I’m sipping a beer on the Abbott’s back porch, the last person left awake. At least I assume I’m the last one awake. When the house got quiet, I crept out of my room, down the stairs, and outside.

“What are you doing out here?”

I choke on my drink, turning around toward the house as Hadley steps out the sliding glass door looking like a fucking vision in a pair of navy-blue sweatpants and an oversized, faded Storm shirt, her blonde hair in a ponytail. A ponytail I’m imagining wrapping my hand around and tugging on as she sucks my cock.

Fuck’s sake.

Why the hell am I so horny?

I need to get laid.

I can’t remember the last time I had sex. Usually that doesn’t bother me because I’m so busy with hockey, but apparently, now that the season is done, my sex drive is ramping up. Except all I want is her. And she is one hundred percent off limits.

“What are you doing out here?” she repeats, sitting down on the chair next to me.

I shrug, taking a sip of my drink and staring out into the backyard. “Relaxing and enjoying a beer. It’s a nice night.” I peek over at her.