Fake Dating the Defenseman Next Door (Soltero Beach Scorpions Hockey #1)

9. Angela

nine

Angela

O f all the things I’d expected to happen on our date last night, running into Grant Reed was not one of them.

I hadn’t been prepared for a confrontation, and for a moment, I’d reverted to being my teenage self. Frozen in place, tongue tied even as anger lashed through me.

That man had made my high school years torture, and I hated that I wasn’t prepared to give him a piece of my mind right then and there.

Seeing him again rattled me, but he hadn’t even recognized me. Hadn’t batted an eyelash or looked at sidelong or anything. I’d somehow been such an insignificant footnote in his life while he’d been a major force in mine. His actions had driven me out of this town, away from my grandma’s side, and even propelled me to become the person I am now.

A stronger, more resilient version of the girl I’d been.

And why the hell was I still letting him affect my life all these years later?

Diego had picked up on the weird vibes, but he didn’t push the issue after I dodged any questioning by inviting him in and saying I didn’t want to be on my own.

So, like a dutiful fake boyfriend, he’d stayed with me.

We’d snuggled on the sofa for a rewatch of our favorite K-drama, and I’d fallen asleep in his arms clutching both Mr. Buckwheat plushies.

But I’d woken up alone, tucked into my bed with both cuddle toys and no cuddly man. Disappointment rolled through my belly until I found the note on my night stand saying he had a morning skate and would love to see me and Grandma Grace at his next game.

I unlatch my grandma’s front picket fence and bound up to the door. I’m surprised to find it’s unlocked, so I enter and call out for her. When she doesn’t answer, I quickly kick off my shoes and have a quick peek in the kitchen.

Then I hear voices in the garden, filtering in through the open kitchen window.

When I push the sliding screen door open, I’m not prepared for the sight of a shirtless Diego bringing my grandma a tall glass of water. She shades her eyes from the sun as she looks my way, even though she’s wearing an oversized straw hat.

“Oh, hi! You finally came.” She waves at me and I wave back.

“ Annyeonghaseyo, halmeoni.” My head swivels back to Diego, my throat cinching up as he lifts his ball cap and swipes the sweat from his brow. Under the blazing September sun, his torso is a rich tanned color and his muscles ripple with every movement.

He turns toward me, and when his gaze locks on mine, a broad, bright smile spreads over his face. Slow. Easy. Sexy.

“Hey, Trouble. If I’d known you were turning up, I would’ve brought extra.” Diego snatches up the remnants of a donut from the bistro table my grandma’s sitting at and brings it to me.

“Hey.”

“Don’t do it,” my grandma says in a stage-whisper. “It’s a trap. They’re guilty donuts.”

“Guilty donuts?” I have no idea what she’s talking about. I’m too occupied counting up his abs.

Eight of ‘em. Well-defined. Carved.

And a thin, dark patch of hair that trails down from his belly button.

“Eyes up, Angie,” he chuckles.

My head jerks up and I shoot my grandma a quick glance.

“What are you doing here?”

He gestures to the half-constructed vegetable patch he’d been building. “I’ve been helping out with whatever I can after she got hurt. She said her back’s not great, I thought she could do with a raised veggie patch.”

“He comes every weekend,” My grandma says. “Can’t get rid of him. He’s always here, bringing me these terrible donuts and making me try them.”

“I also bring you the groceries you ask for,” he adds.

She shakes her head ruefully, but her mouth tips up in the tiniest smile even as she stands up and shuffles across the patio. She lays a calloused, wrinkled hand on Diego’s and my arms as she passes.

“It’s too hot. I’m going to rest inside for a bit. You okay, Angie? You’ll tell me more about the store later, okay?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll get dinner started.”

“Make extra. He’s staying,” she inclines her head to him. “And he eats a lot.”

I laugh, my heart expanding in my chest and I glance up at Diego.

Was it possible that despite being a rich local who undoubtedly ranked among popular jocks, he was different from the guys I’d gone to school with?

“Hey, I’m a growing boy.”

“Not a boy anymore. You’re a man. You should learn to cook for yourself. Otherwise, you’ll make lots of work for your poor future wife,” she scolds as she slams the screen door behind him.

Then Diego holds up the donut like an offering.

“You should try it. It’s not the best because it’s not Grandma Grace’s, but still.”

I glance at the donut in his hand. “Is that—”

“—a glazed devil’s food donut. My favorite.”

Oh sweet God above .

“Mine too,” I murmur, reaching for the donut.

But he pulls it back, a soft ‘ah ah’ sound falling from his lips as he raises the treat a little higher.

“Let me feed my girlfriend,” he whispers, raising the treat in the air.

“You’re such a flirt,” I say, cheeks hot.

He only shrugs one shoulder. “Do you want it?”

I want you. Biting my lip, I remind myself to be brave. To take risks and do the things that scare me.

“Fine. I’ll play your game.” I step up to him, tilt my head back and circle of his wrist with both of my hands.

His eyebrow quirks when I touch him. His honeyed gaze goes hot as I pull his arm down and bring my mouth to the donut. When I wrap my lips around the remnant and lick the icing off his index finger, he sucks in air.

“ Fuuuu… ”

Then I let go, chew thoughtfully and let my gaze skim over him again. In this light, in this heat, his body glistens and my fingers itch to slide over his sinewy muscle and trace the ink decorating his pecs.

He groans, scrubbing at his face with one hand. “If you keep looking at me like that, I think you’ll get us both in trouble.”

I smile at him and turn on my heel. “I’m beginning to like trouble.”

When he turns away and gets back work on the raised planter, it occurs to me that I now know the meaning of thirst and why my friends call it a trap.

Because I’m caught up in this infatuation, this schoolgirl crush that apparently never left me.

And the truth is I don’t want to get out.

“You’re going to burn it, Angie.” My grandma elbows me out of the way and takes over cooking the marinated beef. “You set the table and the banchan . I’ll do this.”

I blink, tearing my eyes away from the window where I’d been definitely been caught staring at Diego as he works nonstop to finish the planter.

“When did you hire extra help, halmeoni ? You never told me that your back’s been bothering you.”

She waves her hand in a shooing motion. “Why would I tell you? You are busy. I don’t want to worry you.”

“It’s no trouble,” I say. “I want to take care of you. You took care of me for so long.”

“Anyway, I didn’t hire him. He just comes every week and checks on me. I think he’s desperate for more donuts. He’s got it in his head that it gives him a superpower or something.” She smiles warmly.

I get the sense that she might joke with him, but she really values the relationship she’s built with him. A pang strikes my heart as I glance into the garden at Diego.

He’d kept her company. He’d been consistent with her and been a friend. Because she’d been there for him.

Because it wasn’t just about the donuts.

My mind whirrs as I silently vow to be better about checking in with her.

“Besides, it’s your mother who should be here helping me. You’re young. You should be living your life.”

I turn away from the window and give my grandma a small, sad smile. While I get that my mother should probably step up more, it’s unrealistic to expect it of her.

I lay a hand over her weathered one.

“ Halmeoni . I will always make time for you. If you had told me sooner, I would’ve come faster.”

She snickers, shaking her head. “You had a good job. You shouldn’t have given it up.”

“It was time for something new,” I say firmly as I set small bowls on the table and let my gaze wander outside. “Maybe even time to settle down a bit.”

“Like with a man?” she asks, pinning me with a shrewd, knowing look.

“No,” I say, ears heating up as I whirl away and fumble for utensils. “I mean, I’m thinking about whether or not opening up my own boutique firm is the right move. I’m kind of enjoying revamping the shop and you could do with the help.”

Her dark eyes watch me for a moment, her mouth pressed into a flat line.

“Maybe you find a man first, then worry about the shop.”

I laugh. “I worry about you , not the shop so much.”

She waves me off. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’m worried about you. Being alone all the time isn’t good.”

My gaze drifts out the window to the man working outside. “I’m not as alone as you think.”

“You could do worse, Angie.” With deft movements, Grandma sets aside the meat and cracks eggs into the hot pan with a sizzle. “He’s a nice boy. Under all those jokes, there’s a tender heart. One worth knowing.”

I say nothing as Diego crosses the garden and slides open the door.

He stamps his feet clear of the dirt and removes his shoes before stepping into the house.

It doesn’t escape my notice that he’s clearly comfortable here and knows the house rules.

He gives me an audacious wink before addressing my grandma. “Well, I’m thinking it’ll be ready for you to plant some seeds in a week, maybe two.”

“Next week, the shop re-opens,” she says, pinning me with a look. “Maybe we celebrate with dinner after.”

“Sound like my kind of party.” Diego’s face breaks out into a wide grin. “I’ll be there.”

Looks like there’s no escaping him anytime soon.