Page 75 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
And the best part? Her ex is standing beside us, watching.
Nathan clears his throat, and Whitney, ever the picture of grace, turns with a bright, easy smile. “Hi, Nathan!”
His gaze flickers between us -lingering a second too long on the way my hand rests possessively on her waist. “Whitney.” A pause. Then, with a small, forced smile, “Didn’t think you’d come.”
She tilts her head, voice light. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Her smile widens, dripping with sincerity. “Congratulations on your engagement. Wishing you and Rhea lots of happiness.”
Nathan’s jaw ticks. “Thanks,” he says, then motions toward me. “And this is?”
Before Whitney can answer, I extend my hand. “Blake.” A beat. Then I smirk. “Her boyfriend.”
Nathan takes it, squeezing just a little too hard - like I’m supposed to be intimidated. I meet his grip with ease, keeping my expression casual.
Nathan’s jaw twitches. “Right.”
Whitney, still perfectly composed, adds, “Oh, and he’s a hockey player. I remember you saying I’ll never get anyone better than you, look-wise and workwise, but then, here he is in the flesh.”
One of the women nearby perks up. “Ohhh. You go, girl,” she murmurs, amusement dancing in her eyes.
Whitney laughs and Nathan is not amused.
His gaze lingers on me like he’s sizing me up. “So, what’s it like dating Whitney? She’s... a sweetheart, yet a handful.”
I slide my arm fully around her waist, pulling her closer. “Yeah,” I say easily, “but I like a challenge.”
Nathan’s smirk falters. Good.
His mouth opens - probably to say something unnecessary - but before he can, a delicate hand rests on his arm.
Rhea.
She’s stunning, I’ll give her that. The kind of woman who fits into events like this like she was designed for them. “Nathan, they need you for a moment,” she says smoothly before turning to Whitney. “It was nice seeing you. Enjoy the party.”
Whitney nods, still smiling. “You too. Congrats again.”
Nathan hesitates for half a second before letting Rhea pull him away.
I exhale through my nose. “Well, that was fun.”
She grins. “You handled yourself well, hockey star.”
I lean in, just enough to brush my lips against her ear. “You love watching me handle myself. Wanna dance, miss?”
Whitney rolls her eyes, but she’s laughing as she nudges me toward the dance floor.
****
Dancing with Whitney is… dangerous.
She fits against me too perfectly, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders, my palm pressed against the small of her back. My hand finds the curve of her hip, and when she moves, swaying to the beat, my grip tightens on instinct. She smells like vanilla and something fresh, like summer mornings and trouble.
"This is supposed to be for show," she murmurs, glancing up at me.
"Sure," I say, sliding my hand a little lower. "Just playing my part."
"You seem to be enjoying this way too much."
I lean in, lips brushing her temple. "Can’t help it when you keep looking at me like that."
