Textbook Defense Sneak Peek

He had arrived almost an hour ago, and he couldn’t say he was enjoying himself. The person on the door made a fuss about Jordy’s missing plus-one in a bubbling, overeager way. Then, in the main room, Jordy hoped to find a glass of water to ease his parched throat, but every time he spotted a waiter or tried to move toward the bar, someone else popped up in his space, ready to chat about the Shield’s latest and most disappointing season—which was how some people categorized any season that didn’t end in a Cup win, no matter that a Cupless end was the fate of over thirty teams every year.

Jordy had finally gotten his hands on some water, but the bartender turned out to be another armchair coach with the solution to all the Shield’s problems.

By the time he spotted the sign for the restroom, he was desperate for a break.

Dinner wasn’t for another hour. He had at least another three ahead of him before he could duck out gracefully.

Which was fine. Jordy was a big boy, and he could handle it. He took a deep breath and left the restroom… only to do an about-face when he recognized the woman walking into the ladies’ room.

Fuck. Of course Alana was here.

Jordy didn’t like to think himself a coward, but he had no intention of exchanging a single word with her. He took three long strides away from the restrooms to a small curtained-off alcove and stepped into it. He wasn’t hiding. He was just taking a little time-out to get his bearings.

Except he didn’t look into the alcove beforehand, and he stepped on someone’s foot. “Ow,” said a familiar voice. “What the fuck.”

Jordy blinked as the man from the library—Rowan—scowled at him from a few inches away. So close together, it was hard not to notice that Rowan might actually be taller than him.

“Oh, it’s you.”

What was that supposed to mean? Flustered, Jordy opened his mouth and said, “What are you doing here?”

“Here as in the party?” Rowan gave a winsome smile, as if Jordy had not just accidentally caught him hiding in what amounted to a closet. “I was invited.” Rowan paused, placed a finger to his lip, and amended, “Ordered at stiletto-point? Coerced? I’m here at the behest of Her Majesty Gemma Bancroft, ostensibly to entertain her every whim because the rest of the table is insufferable—”

That sure was a lot of five-dollar words.

“—just because I can’t afford a thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner—”

“I meant here in this…” Jordy gestured around them. “… alcove.”

“Hiding.” Rowan deflated, then immediately puffed up again, a glint in his eye. “Wait—what are you doing here? At this dinner and also in this alcove?”

“I was invited.”

Rowan tilted his head. “Because…?”

Jordy hunched his shoulders. This was going to sound conceited. “The organizers asked people from the Shield to come to sell more tickets.”

To his surprise, Rowan didn’t roll his eyes. “Oh. Yeah, I can see how that would be a selling point if you’re going to spend this kind of money on dinner.” He peeked out from behind the curtain. Then he swore and plastered himself against the wall again. “So. Why are you hiding?”

You first, Jordy wanted to say. But something about Rowan’s endless talking disarmed him. Maybe he shouldn’t give the man too many excuses to talk about himself. “There’s a woman….”

“Does she bite?” Rowan asked. “I mean.” He waved a hand in Jordy’s direction. “You look like you could take her.”

As if Jordy was going to get into a physical altercation with anyone off the ice. He’d be thrown in jail immediately, and he’d deserve it. “She’s….” This was so hard to explain without using the word stalker, which felt like overkill. Puck bunny was pretty misogynistic. Unfortunately the alternatives, again, made him sound self-important. “Obsessed with me.”

Rowan took it in stride, one corner of his mouth quirking up as he flicked his gaze up and down Jordy’s body. “Ah. Well, at least she’s got some taste. No restraining order?”

Jordy shook his head. “It’s not dangerous or invasive or anything. Her parents have money, and she shows up to every event….” As well as some of the open practices and training-camp scrimmages. It made him uncomfortable, but she hadn’t crossed any lines. If she started showing up at Kaira’s school plays or something, he’d reconsider. “It’s just awkward.” And this conversation had become far too focused on him. “Your turn. Why are you hiding?”

Sagging against the wall, Rowan tilted his head as though to peer out from behind the curtain thing. “Same reason. Well, okay, not exactly. Do you know the fourth-richest man in Toronto? He keeps telling me his name and I keep forgetting it on purpose. Anyway, he’s very talkative. Very. And that’s coming from me, so that’s saying something. He loves a captive audience.”

He didn’t remember the man’s name but knew he was the fourth-richest man in Toronto? For a moment Jordy was perplexed, and then he remembered Rowan was here on orders from Gem. “And you’re his favorite?”

If possible, Rowan slumped further. “I don’t know if he’s looking for a sugar baby or if I just remind him of his favorite grandchild, and I don’t want to know. I am actively avoiding knowing.”

That sounded like the best course of action. Privately Jordy was a little perturbed at Gem. Knowing her, she’d brought Rowan along to be sacrificed to the man in the name of charity. Then again, she’d done the same thing to Jordy, and he didn’t really mind. Except for Alana being present, of course. “What if it’s both?”

Rowan yelped and then covered his mouth, as though afraid he might give away their spot. “That’s horrible. Gods, why?”

To make you laugh. It had worked too; the mirth in Rowan’s eyes danced in the dim light in their cubbyhole. Sanna, his ex, would have called him boyishly handsome, with that slightly too-long hair that flopped over his forehead. Jordy would’ve bet he was older than he looked, but he couldn’t say how much. “Sorry.”

“Eh.” Rowan waved this off. “Nothing I haven’t thought before, even if I somehow had the restraint not to say so out loud.” But now he was looking speculatively at Jordy. “You know, we might be able to help each other out here.”

Jordy could guess where this was going. “I technically have two tickets.” Because he was a softie, and knowing there were kids in the city with so much less than Kaira, and so few people in their corner, made him hate the world a little bit. “So there’s an extra seat at my table. No Gem, though.”

Rowan grinned. “Under the circumstances, I think she’ll forgive me if I abandon her to play pretend boyfriend with you all night.” He paused. “Actually, she’ll probably send me a bottle of champagne. She’s made her opinions on my previous actual boyfriends very clear.”

“Subtlety isn’t really her strong suit.”

“Yes, that’s why we get along.” Rowan linked his arm through Jordy’s. “So, all right, are we stepping out of this alcove with our outfits disheveled like we can’t keep our hands off each other, or am I going to have to pretend subtlety as well?”

“If it won’t kill you,” Jordy said. “I prefer not to make a scene.”

With a put-upon sigh, Rowan twitched the curtain to one side and peered out. “If you insist. Looks like the coast is clear.”

“Then let’s go have dinner.”

Rowan led him by the hand out of the alcove. “Let’s have drinks,” he corrected. “Then dinner. And we’ll make sure everyone sees we’re so besotted with each other that we couldn’t possibly notice them.”

Bemused, Jordy allowed himself to be pulled along for the ride. “Have you done this before?”

Rowan tossed a look back at him over his shoulder. “Why? Do I seem like some kind of fake-date slut?” His eyes were dancing again. “My parents threw a lot of intolerable parties growing up.”

They bellied up to the bar. “Intolerable?”

“Over-the-top. Very boring. Self-important.” This time Rowan’s grin was a little strained. “One learns to make the best of the situation. Sometimes that means having a little fun at Mummy and Daddy’s expense. Literally and figuratively. What’s your drink of choice? Since you’re being a public figure, I’m assuming no hard liquor.”

He just skipped from one subject to another like a fruit fly. “Safe bet,” Jordy murmured.

“So, wine? Beer? Coke? The blood of your enemies?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Jordy’s mouth. Something told him Rowan was far more likely to be the blood-of-his-enemies type than Jordy. “Beer.”

“Great. Light, medium, dark? Any allergies?”

“Medium, and no,” Jordy answered. Why was Rowan asking so many questions? Surely he knew Jordy could order his own drink?

“Lovely.” Rowan fluttered his lashes at the bartender—thankfully a different one from before. She didn’t seem impressed, but she did smile.

“What can I get you?”

“A couple of beers, please,” Rowan said with an easy smile. He unlinked their hands and placed a finger on one of the fancy menu cards in front of him. “Amber for this one, and the light IPA for me.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I prefer blonds.”

Oh, so that was the game. Jordy smiled ruefully in spite of himself and shook his head.

The bartender laughed. “I see that. Coming right up.”

“You are enjoying this,” Jordy observed.

“Oh, immensely.” The bartender slid their beers across the bar top, and Rowan thanked her and passed Jordy his with a little bow. “Here you are, darling.”

Jordy wasn’t used to being doted upon. It was weird, but Rowan’s enthusiasm made it easy to go along with. “Thanks.” He shoved some money in the tip jar as they swept away from the bar.

“Oooh,” Rowan crooned, leaning into his space. “Handsome and generous.”

The kicker of it was that the ruse was clearly working. Jordy could see people noticing him, even looking in his direction and turning to whisper to their companions, but people kept their distance. Rowan and his feigned affection provided a perfect buffer.

“Well, with you occupied, she might be the target of the fourth-richest man in Toronto. She’s earned it.”

Rowan laughed and found a table for their drinks. “And he’s clever and thoughtful too. I’m a lucky man.”

Shaking his head, Jordy set his drink down. “Are you always like this?”

Rowan blinked at him, the picture of innocence. “Like what?”

Loud. Friendly. Flirty. Jordy gestured, hoping he didn’t come across as critical. “You’re very… excited. All the time. Doesn’t it get tiring?”

“Does a fish tire of swimming?” The words came out teasing, but the expression on Rowan’s face, the slight tension at the corners of his eyes, the crease in his forehead, told Jordy he was taking the question seriously. “I’m not, actually. Always like this, I mean. But I wouldn’t let on about that to a fake boyfriend. Not when I’m here to be charming.”

“Of course not,” Jordy said dryly. Over Rowan’s shoulder, he spotted Alana heading in their direction. He’d have to take a page from Rowan’s book and try something a little less subtle. “Are you a fake boyfriend who dances?”

Rowan followed his line of sight and inclined his head in understanding. “My dear, I do whatever is required of me.” He offered his hand. “Shall we?”