Page 20 of The Slapshot and the Single Mom
“Of course!” He says that like it shouldn’t even be a question. “I’m up for pretty much anything. You’re the one who’s been holed up in a dark room for years. I’m happy to give you a range of choices if you need help picking, but whatever you want to do is fine with me.”
“What if I want to take ballroom dancing lessons?” I shoot back, eyes narrowed. This sounds way too good to be true.
He grins. “That sounds fun. You want to learn to waltz with me? Or we could salsa. I’ve done that before. I had a good time.”
I almost choke on that statement, even though my mouth is empty. “What about a spa day? What if I wanted a facial and a manicure or something?”
“Done and done. Name the time and place. Or if you don’t know where’s good, I can get referrals from my teammates’ wives and girlfriends. Would you want it to be a couple’s package? Or would you rather get pampered solo?”
My jaw drops at his ready agreement. I close it, looking away and furiously sucking my drink until it makes that horrible gurglingsound meaning I’m down to ice and little else. I give it a sad look, and Jack chuckles, reaching for my cup. “I’ll get you a refill while you think of more questions,” he says in a low voice that’s smooth like satin.
Good god, this man might become dangerous to my sanity.
What he’s offering is so tempting, it’s hard to turn down.
He wouldn’t be a real boyfriend, I know that, but it might be a good way to get my feet wet for when I am ready to date again. I’ve been so wrapped up in surviving the divorce and keeping my head above water and supporting Liam that I haven’t had time to focus on myself at all. Someone wants to pay for me to get pampered? Is willing to go to … paint nights and baseball games and ballroom dancing lessons with me without complaining?
Or would he complain?
Kyle acted like he was happy to do those things at first too, especially in the abstract. But when it came down to it, when I wanted to do any of those things in reality and not just hypothetically, he’d come up with a million excuses, and if none of those worked, he’d bitch and moan the whole time so that I’d be miserable and not ask him to do whatever it was again. That’s why I stopped hanging out with my friends. That’s why I never went to a paint night despite asking to go to one more than once. That’s why I only went to baseball games maybe once a season, and it was usually just Liam and me. “Tickets are so expensive these days,” he’d complain, meanwhile he had no problem going to as many basketball games as he wanted despite having to travel to them, claiming those were a business expense or getting the network to cover the costs. When I pointed out that baseball games would be covered too, he’d always just look at me like I was so cute and dumb for thinking that.
Jack comes back with a fresh cup of soda and sets it in front of me. “Do you have more questions for me?” he asks. “Or have you made up your mind already?”
Wiping my hands on a napkin, I clench it in my hands and hold it in my lap. “Just one question.” I meet his gaze, his eyes warm and soft. “How long do you expect this to last?”
He glances away at that question, surprising me that he doesn’t have an answer at the ready. Crossing his arms, he leans back in his chair. “I’d like it to be for at least the summer. Training camp starts mid-September.”
“And what happens at the end of the summer?”
His brows crimp. “Uh, whatever we want? I don’t have a specific end date picked out. Like I said, I’d like it to be for at least a few months. I think that’ll help with the stability angle I’m going for. People will expect me to be partying all summer, but I’m under strict orders not to do that. Taking you out means I can go places and do things—probably even things I wouldn’t think to try on my own, which sounds fun to me—without looking like an irresponsible jackass. Sitting around all summer sounds really boring. I’d much rather have fun with you if you’re up for it.”
I nod, processing this. It’s definitely a practical take on the situation, but I believe him when he says he wants to spend time with me. “So in September, we’ll either … stop? Or continue?”
He shrugs. “Pretty much. If we’re both still having a good time, I see no reason for it to end. And of course, if it’s not working for you at any point, you’re not under any kind of contract. You can say no. I won’t be mad, and I won’t keep pestering you. I just thought …” He looks away, swallowing hard, and I realize thathe’s nervous. Shrugging, he faces me again. “I just thought it’d be a good fit for both of us.”
Looking down, I mull that over. But really, what do I have to lose?
Meeting his eyes, I nod. “Okay. I’m in.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jack
I blinkat her for a second, replaying her words in my head. She said she’s in?
She said she’s in.
A slow smile spreads across my face. “Okay. That’s … yeah. That’s amazing.” I let out a relieved exhale, leaning my arm on the table. “For a second there, I thought for sure you were gonna say no.”
She returns my smile and lifts one shoulder. “It was never off the table.”
The longer I talked, the more certain I was that I was making a fool of myself for even asking. Or making it sound like … hell, I don’t know. When she mentioned using an escort or something, I was worried she thought I was trying to treatherlike an escort, I guess. And if people want to pay escorts or be escorts, I have no problem with adults making their own choices, it’s just not for me.
“Okay, so, uh … should we plan something?”
Her face turns serious, and my stomach sinks, the brief moment of relief at her agreement already floating away. “Um, can I check my schedule and get back to you? Liam has a couple of day camps coming up, and I know there are parent nights, and I just need to make sure I’m not …” She sighs, her shoulders slumping as she rubs a spot between her eyebrows. “I’m sorry. This honestly does sound great, I just …” She looks at me, her face looking so sad that I want to reach across the table and hug her. “It’s hard. I haven’t dated at all since my divorce because I’ve been so busy with work and my kid that when would I even find the time?” She holds up her hands, palms up. “And I want my kid to feel like he matters. His dad finds so many excuses not to spend time with him, and I don’t want him to feel rejected by me, too.”
“Hey,” I say softly, setting a hand on the table but keeping it face down. We might’ve held hands the other night, but that was ostensibly so we wouldn’t get separated walking through a crowd, even if we did stay that way after we didn’t need to anymore. Reaching for her hand now, though, would be a different thing entirely. And wejustestablished that our dates would be as friends, not as anything else, even if we let the public believe whatever story they want to tell themselves. “I get it. I don’t want you to make your kid feel like he’s not a priority either.”
