Page 21 of Dirty Puck

“What was Toledo asking about last night? Something happen?”

“No. Yes. It’s complicated. He’s had new developmental delays pop up. His therapist said he didn’t think they were a good fit any longer. He recommended me to this new school that you have to be referred by a doctor or therapist to even get an interview.”

“You get the interview?”

“Yeah, we got it. But his insurance will only pay for seventy-five percent. I can’t afford the co-pay. It’s, like, five grand a month. Now, I have to get Benny from Mrs. Grazia’s place.”

“In a minute.”

“Please, Reece. I’ve told you about my son. It’s time to go.”

“I figured it was a money thing. Why didn’t you let Toledo help?”

“What do you mean, why? He’s my friend. Nothing else. Benny’s my son. You don’t accept money from friends, especiallythat muchmoney, and my son’s issues are mine to take care of.”

Jaycee’s stupid book had wormed its way into my head while I watched Bree sleep this morning. To think I’d rolledmy eyes at that fake boyfriend trope—but now? Hell, it was the only thing that made sense.

Christ, Bree handed me the perfect opening and didn’t even realize it. We weren’t friends. Not really. Not yet. So technically, she had no reason to say no. “I’ll pay for your kid’s therapy in exchange for your services.”

“I’mnota prostitute.” The words came out razor sharp, her voice shaking, showing her fury. “I dance.That’s it.”

She scrambled from the bed but I caught her before she could get away.

“Listen, I need?—”

“Get out,” she shouted. “I can’t believe you had the nerve?—”

I kissed her. Soft but commanding, and just enough to shut her up. Her lips went still beneath mine, breath catching, and when she finally settled, I pulled back to speak.

“I get it,” I said, voice low. “What I need from you has nothing to do with sex—I mean, it will. But only becauseyouwant it as bad as I do. We’re fire together, so not giving that up. But right now? I need you to be my girlfriend. Just for a little while.”

“Your…girlfriend?”

“Yeah, like one of those fake arrangements. I read about one on the back of a book that Bishop’s wife had set down on the craft service table.”

“She was reading a fake relationship romance and you want that? Why?”

“I have my reasons. You sayyes, you get to know then. No, I try to find someone else and this”—I gestured between us—“is over like you wanted. I can’t sleep with you if people think I have a girlfriend.”

“We don’t sleep.”

“We will if you sayyes. Your bed’s comfortable, but mine’s better. We’ll probably spend most nights at my place.”

“I have Benny. I can’t. If I do this—and I’m not saying Iwill—but if I do, you have to sleep here. It can only be on nights when Mrs. Grazia has my boy, and you have to be gone before… What time is it?”

I glanced at the clock on her bedside table that she could’ve easily looked at. “It’s five to eleven.”

“Eleven? Get up. Get dressed.”

She shot out of the bed, grabbing my clothing and throwing them at me before she ran to jump in the shower. She used those last five minutes to clean me off of her. I wasn’t sure if I should be offended.

Given we weren’t about to get down and dirty again, I slid on my jeans and slipped on my shirt right as I heard the front door open. Hell, I couldn’t slip out now, so I walked into the living room with my shoes and socks in hand.

“Oh,” the old woman who had to be Mrs. Grazia said when I startled her. “I didn’t realize Bree had a friend over. She doesn’t normally.”

Part of me thought better of what I was about to do, but Bree never answered me either way. I needed her help, but dammit, I wanted her in my bed. I’d bedded a lot of women and none of them had come close to what she could do between the sheets. How could I give that up now?

Without her in the room to make up some excuse about who I was or why I was there, I preemptively killed that argument by reaching out my hand. “Name’s Baker Reece.”

---