Jonah: A Chicago Blaze Hockey Romance Page 4

  He beams. “I’m great. I was expecting an angry, gun-toting cop with no chill for some reason. But instead I got a supermodel whose hair and face I can’t wait to get my hands on.”

  His giddiness makes me laugh. “You’re gonna have your hands full, teaching me about beauty. I wear my hair in a ponytail every day and my bottle of Cover Girl foundation dried up about a year ago so I threw it out and never bought more.”

  Kai gasps. “Shut your fucking mouth with this Cover Girl bullshit! I’m going to introduce you to the good stuff. Wait until you see my makeup room.”

  “There’s a whole room?”

  “Yes, girl, and it’s killer.”

  “Perfect. I have a lot to learn about cosmetics, and I also have a date Sunday night.”

  “A date? You just got to town like five minutes ago! Holy shit, is that what it’s like to be you?”

  I laugh and say, “God, no. I haven’t been out on an actual date in like two years. This date…it was set up by the same people who brought us together.”

  “Ah,” Kai says. “Got it. But I’m gonna make you look just as fab as if it was the real deal.”

  “That sounds…kinda fun, surprisingly.”

  His expression turns serious. “Look, I’ve helped my dad with a couple small cases before, and I’ve been the kid of a cop my whole life. I know what’s on the line here. I want you to know I’ve got your back. Honestly, I don’t go out a whole lot and my circle is pretty small. But your cover is safe with me. In my head, you’re Renee Carlisle, beauty writer.”

  “Call me Rey. That’s part of my cover, too—my friends call me Rey.”

  “Okay, Rey.” He takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “I’m really excited to have you here, but we’ve got a lot of work to do between now and Sunday. Detective West asked me to change up your look. It’ll be kind of a disguise of sorts—a fresh new look fit for a beauty writer.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  “I’m going to shape your brows as soon as we get to the makeup room. I can’t stand to look at them for another minute.” He gives me a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” I wave a hand. “I’m the first to admit I’m not into hair and makeup.”

  “You are now.” Kai takes my hand. “I’m gonna make you into a bombshell, girl.”

  Chapter Six

  Jonah

  I shouldn’t be nervous. This isn’t a real date. But I’ve got first-date jitters, because even though I’m thirty-four years old, I’ve never actually done this before.

  Lily and I were high school sweethearts. We had classes together and hung out with our mutual friends, so I knew her well before we ever went out. This is the first time I’ve had to knock on a woman’s door not knowing if she’ll like me at the end of the night.

  At least I know she’ll pretend to like me, which is all this is, anyway. But still, a guy’s got his ego to consider, and even if our date’s not legit, I figure Rey and I may as well have a good time.

  So I’m wearing khakis. Khakis seem next level, at least in my mind. I wanted to ask some teammates when we were on the road what to wear for a first date, but I didn’t want to deal with their bullshit. Some of their wives have gently suggested that they have friends they can fix me up with when I’m ready, and I flat out refused every time. I’m gonna get lots of questions when news of my new “girlfriend” hits.

  I check my reflection in my rearview mirror one last time. No food in my teeth, and the nick from shaving earlier isn’t bleeding anymore. I’m good.

  I’m about to walk up the stairs to the huge old brick building Rey gave me the address to when the front door opens up and she comes walking down the stairs toward me, holding on to the handrail.

  “Wow,” I say softly.

  She looks like an A-list actress, her makeup perfect and her hair done in shoulder-length, caramel-colored waves. She brushes long, sideswept bangs away from her eyes and grins.

  “Hey,” she says casually.

  “Hey.”

  “Am I dressed up enough?” She furrows her brow and looks at her jeans and dark green, off-the-shoulder shirt.

  “Yeah, you look great.”

  “I walk slow in these heels,” she says, shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m more of a jeans and T-shirt type.”

  “It’s okay.” I gesture to the left. “I’m parked about a block down.”

  “Let’s do it,” she says, hanging the strap of a black handbag over her shoulder.

  It’s a cool October evening, a light breeze sending a few leaves swirling through the air in front of us. Rey’s North Side neighborhood is nice, full of well-kept buildings and lots of pedestrians out and about. A guy walking by with a little dog on a leash nods and smiles as he passes.

  Rey shoots me a wicked grin once we’re out of earshot. “Did that guy recognize you or was he checking you out?”

  I laugh. “I’m flattered either way.”

  She looks me up and down. “I think he was checking you out.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I bet lots of people check you out. You’re…I don’t know.”

  “What?” I press.

  “Never mind.”

  “You can’t leave me hanging like that.” I arch a brow as she looks at me. “I mean, when we met at the deli the other day, your tongue was practically hanging out, so I know you think I’m hot.”

  Rey rolls her eyes. “Please.”

  “If you don’t think I’m hot, why do you think lots of people must check me out?” I ask, genuinely intrigued.

  She hesitates and says, “You really want to know?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, because you’re…pretty.”

  My lips part with shock. “I’m pretty?”

  She gives me a sheepish look. “Yeah. I mean with the blue eyes, and the way a few strands of hair fall over your forehead like it’s on accident even though I know you carefully put product on those pieces so it looks that way—”

  I cut her off. “I do not put product in my hair, whatever the hell that even is.”

  “Okay.” She puts her hands up in surrender.

  “You think I’m lying,” I say indignantly.

  “It’s your hair, so I’m sure you know the secrets to its prettiness better than I do.”

  My laugh is definitely the pissed off kind. “You’re the only person in the world who’s ever thought I was pretty.”

  “I doubt that. I mean, other people may not have said anything, but—”

  “Because I have blue eyes?” I question loudly. “I can’t help the color of my eyes.”

  “It’s not bad that they’re pretty.”

  Now I’m the one rolling my eyes. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but pretty?”

  “Loosen up, West. There are worse things to be.”

  I don’t know why I’m so offended by this conversation, but I am. I really fucking am.

  “You know what?” I turn to Rey with a pleasant look. “It’s such a nice night, why don’t we walk to dinner?”

  She looks down at the heels she’s wearing and then back up at me. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, I’m not walking to dinner.”

  I’m starting to get Rey’s number. She’s the kind of woman who likes to call the shots. A ballbuster who always says what she’s thinking. And I want to establish up front in our fake relationship that I’m not putting up with her being the boss.

  “Yeah, I think we passed my car a while back,” I say, scrunching my face into an obviously fake confused expression. “Or not. I can’t really remember which one’s my car, so let’s walk.”

  Rey’s red lips form a straight line as she glares at me. “You really want to play it this way?”

  “Who’s playing?” I challenge.

  She nods and I can practically see the flames ignite in her dark eyes. “Okay, let’s walk, Jonah.” With a smile, she takes my arm and leans against me, giving me an adoring look as we
start walking.

  “I thought we’d hit a new place about…eh, maybe twelve blocks from here?” I say. “Maybe fourteen. No more than eighteen.”

  “Dick,” she says in a low tone, her lips not moving.

  “Or did you want to go somewhere else? There’s a great pizza place that can’t be more than twenty-five blocks from here.”

  “You know what?” she says sweetly. “It’s not just your eyes and gelled hair pieces. It’s your whole face. I bet you wax your chest, crotch, balls—everything. Even your brows. You’re just a very pretty man.”

  I smile at her, playing the game. “And you’re not so bad yourself. As long as your mouth is closed. Or otherwise occupied.”

  After a single note of laughter, she says, “I’m sure some women like sucking off pretty dicks. All smooth and hairless. I prefer big, hairy ones myself.”

  “You like to floss while giving head?”

  She shrugs. “I just like manly men. Big, six and a half foot lumberjacks with chests full of dark hair who can pick me up and fuck me any way they want.”

  “Yeah, I’m not manly at all. I get the shit beat out of me on the ice all the time. I’ve got scars all over my body from skate blades, pucks and sticks. I’ve had a few concussions. Full sleeve of tattoos. I smoke cigars and drink bourbon. I’m practically a fucking fairy princess.”

  Rey sighs softly. “Look, can we start over? I didn’t mean to offend you, and clearly I did.”

  I sigh, too, because while I’m pissed, she sounds sincere. And it would be best if we could at least get along during our fake relationship. Plus, with her so close to me, I can smell her perfume, and something about it is softening me. I haven’t smelled a woman’s perfume in a really long time.

  “Yeah, okay,” I say. “I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up.”

  “I’m sure you get all the ass you want,” she says soothingly.

  A laugh busts out of my chest. “You’re not like other women, you know that?”

  She shrugs and says, “Yeah, I know.”

  “We’re not that far from my car, you want to turn around?”

  “Please.”

  We head back in the direction of my car, and she asks, “So how was your road trip? Did you guys win?”

  “We did, 3–2.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Are you a sports fan?”

  “Only baseball.”

  We get to my Tesla SUV and I push the button on my key ring to open the doors, pulling on the handle of hers to open it and let her in. She puts a hand on my arm to steady herself as she steps in.

  “Sorry,” she mutters. “It’s these fucking heels.”

  “It’s all good.”

  I walk around to the driver’s side and get in, starting up the car.

  “Who’s your team?” I ask Rey.

  She pauses from massaging one of her feet. “Hmm?”

  “Baseball.”

  “Oh. Dodgers all the way.”

  “Yeah, I’m a White Sox guy. But we can get along since your team’s NL and mine’s AL.”

  “Unless they meet up in the World Series.”

  “Ain’t happening this year,” I remind her.

  “True. Our pitching sucked ass this season.”

  “Ever been to a hockey game?” I ask as I pull into traffic.

  “No. You know anyone who could get me into one?”

  I smile at the easy banter we have when we’re not at each other’s throats. “I might, if you play your cards right.”

  Rey groans as she slides her shoe back on.

  “Leave ‘em off,” I say. “We can pick up something curbside and eat in the car.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ll survive.”

  “We’ll get curbside,” I say. “Leave the shoes off.”

  “I think we should go in somewhere where we can be seen together.”

  “Another night,” I tell her.

  She sighs in frustration. “Jonah—”

  “Renee.”

  “It’s Rey,” she says firmly.

  “Another night,” I repeat. “Since you’re so hot to get in my pants, we’ll go out again tomorrow night. And the next night I have a game.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s hot to get into mine,” she says in a teasing tone.

  “Whatever you say.” I smile back at her.

  Truth be told, Rey is my anti-type. Lily was different from her in every way. Not only did she have light blond hair and bright green eyes, she was the sweetest woman I’ve ever known. She was always smiling and rarely complained.

  There’s no need to say that, though. Rey and I have already established we’re not compatible.

  We drive around for about twenty minutes until I find the place I was looking for. Rey’s whole face lights up when we drive past it.

  “Holy shit, is that a Cuban place?” she asks hopefully.

  “Best one in the whole city, from what I’ve heard,” I say. “Thought we’d give it a try.”

  “Oh,” she says softly. “Thank you.”

  Logan told me Rey’s of Cuban descent, so I was hoping this place would be a good choice.

  “I haven’t had ropa vieja in forever,” she says wistfully. “But can we go inside? Please?”

  “Yeah, if you want to.”

  “I really do.” She doesn’t groan as she slides the shoes back on this time. “Just to smell it and see it and feel it, you know?”

  “Yeah, we can do that.”

  Rey groans softly and I look over at her. “What?”

  “I feel really bad for calling you a dick earlier.”

  I smile. “It’s forgotten, okay?”

  “Thanks.”

  I park and Rey holds my arm as we make our way inside the restaurant, which is filled with dark wood and potted palms. The savory smells of meat and spices fill the air, and Rey breathes in deeply.

  “I hope you’re hungry, West,” she says. “We’re gonna try everything.”

  “I am.”

  At the counter, Rey speaks Spanish to the guy who waits on us, and she doesn’t even seem to realize he’s gaping at her like a teenage boy having his first wet dream the entire time she’s speaking. After she orders, she reaches into her bag and I put out a hand to stop her.

  “You’re not paying,” I say, taking out my wallet.

  “Yes, I am. I just ordered at least a hundred bucks worth of food.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “But West—”

  “It’s Jonah,” I say, tired of being addressed like a cop working as her partner. “And I’ve got it.”

  She says something in Spanish and passes a card over to the guy behind the counter.

  “No,” I say firmly, reaching past her with mine.

  She says something in Spanish to the guy, and he laughs.

  “What did you just say?” I demand.

  “Nothing,” she says, feigning innocence.

  “It better not have been about me being pretty.”

  Someone in line behind us snickers and I narrow my eyes at Rey in a glare.

  “Either you let me pay,” I say, “or I won’t do that thing you always beg me for in bed tonight.”

  There’s another snicker behind us, and her red lips slide open in surprise.

  We’re both holding our credit cards out and the cashier is talking to Rey in Spanish as she and I stare each other down.

  “Well then, I’m not doing your thing, either,” she says in a level, challenging tone. “The thing with my fingers that makes you moan like a little girl.”

  The snickers become full-on laughter now. She’s got no idea who she’s dealing with. I’ve been trash talking and locker room bantering for twenty years now.

  “Tell the guy to take my card,” I say. “Or I won’t let you invite strange men to join us in the bedroom ever again.”

  The line quiets other than a solitary, shocked inhale. Rey’s cheeks flush as she quickly says something in Spa
nish and puts her card away.

  “That was a low blow,” she hisses as we find a table to sit at.

  “If you quit trying to be in charge all the time, things would go a lot smoother.”

  “I am in charge,” she whispers hotly. “Whether you like it or not.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  She sulks in silence as we wait for the food. I reach across the table and take her hand, winking. Her face relaxes into the expression of a woman on a first date that’s going really well.

  Her eyes tell a different story, though. They’re blazing. I’ve pissed off the hothead. This time, though, I’m not sorry. I’m more…amused. Rey thinks I’m not manly? I plan to show her just how wrong she is.

  Chapter Seven

  Reyna

  “Stop pressing so hard. You’re supposed to blend, not rub the fucking skin off your face.” Kai rolls his eyes at me. “Here, give me the brush. I can’t watch this carnage.”

  I pass him the makeup brush and sigh heavily. “It takes too long.”

  “No, you’re just really impatient.”

  He adds more bronze powder, drawing a line from the corner of my lips to up near my ear.

  “How is that going to look good?” I look up at him from the stool I’m sitting on in front of a vanity in his makeup room. “I know it will, I just would never think to draw lines all over my face the way you do.”

  “Blending.” Kai stretches the word into four syllables for emphasis.

  “Where did you learn to do all this?”

  He grins at me in the mirror. “At first I learned from a drag queen I made friends with. Then I started watching online tutorials and experimenting on my own.”

  “A drag queen? That must’ve been fun.”

  “Dolly Dixon,” Kai says warmly. “Still one of my dearest friends. Did I tell you I sometimes do makeup at a drag club, just for fun?”

  “No, but now I want to know all about it.”

  “Why don’t I just take you sometime?”

  I grin with delight. “Really? I’ve never met a real life drag queen. I’d love that.”

  “You can come be my whipping girl next time I go.”

  “Perfect.” I tilt my cheek up to make his blending work easier. “Hey, last night I watched some of your videos. Can you show me how to do that smoky eye thing?”