The Faker: A Marriage of Convenience Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey) by Gina Azzi (little red riding hood read aloud .TXT) 📕

I bite my bottom lip as a line from our conversation last night floats through my mind. Idiomatic expressions.

“So, tell me about your bills. I know you don’t want help. I know you are a proud, fierce woman. And I admire it, Rielle. You’re independence is sexy as hell. But no one gets anywhere without a little help now and then. And it seems like you’re not reaching out for support in any aspect of your life. So now, I’m going to force you to take it. I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. Start talking.” He takes a swig of his coffee.

And I choke on mine because what. the. hell? Who does he think he is just ordering me to spill my guts? And why is my heart beating faster at the concern in his eyes? At the fact that he noticed and cares.

Torsten leans closer and presses a napkin into my hand as I continue to sputter. Beth drops off two water glasses and I chug mine. After a few moments, I get my breathing under control.

Then, I glare at Torsten. Partially in horror. Mostly in embarrassment. And maybe, just a teeny tiny bit, in gratitude. I consider lying but at the scowl on his face, I know he’ll see right through me. Clearly, hiding my secret isn’t doing me any good and there’s no dynamic to ruin with Torsten. It’s not like I can ruin a casual acquaintance with someone. So I clear my throat and challenge him. “Yeah? You’ve got an extra $470,000 lying around?”

This time, it’s his turn to choke. I grin bitterly and push over the napkin dispenser. Beth shoots us a confused look before shaking her head and dropping off two plates stacked with blueberry pancakes.

“Four hundred and seventy thousand dollars?” he hisses. “Who the hell do you owe that much money to?”

I smirk at him, feeling some of my sadness give way to a hardness I grasp onto with both hands. Moving from shaky ground to a higher elevation, I find my footing once more. I take a sip of my coffee, pour some maple syrup over my pancakes, and cut into them. “That’s a long story.”

He glances around the diner. “I’ve got time, Ri.”

“Eat your pancakes, Torsten.”

“No fucking way are we leaving it at this. Last night, you were almost sobbing at Taps because you lost your job. Some asshole clearly manhandled you.” He glares at my arm. “I tugged a goddamn eviction notice off your door. Now, I find out you are hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt and you want me to just drop it?” His voice is colder than I’ve ever heard it.

I glance up, gasping at the ice in his eyes. Fury fills the lines of his face. His hand is clenched around his fork. “Torsten.”

He shakes his head. “Not a chance in hell, Ri. Tell me what’s going on.” He leans closer, beseeching me with his eyes.

I wince, cursing myself for being honest. Once again, my stupid pride sets me back. Instead of being truthful, I dig deep for my bitchy abrasiveness. Anything to get him to stop caring, to change the subject, to walk out of here and never turn his pitying eyes my way again. “What’s it matter to you, huh? I’m nobody to you. Just your captain’s little sister’s friend. A girl you sang karaoke with drunk at a bar.”

His lips press into a firm line and his fork clatters to the table.

“You okay, Torsten? The pancakes all right?” Beth calls out.

Torsten glares at me, his expression furious. Slowly he releases an exhale and rolls his neck toward Beth. “Yes, Beth. The pancakes are great. Thank you.”

“All right, hon. I’m just going on break before the lunch rush hits. Holler if you need me.” Beth pushes through the double swinging doors toward the kitchen.

Torsten turns back toward me and my breath lodges in my throat. Outside of a hockey game, I’ve never seen him look so angry, so intense. His flashing eyes cause a thrill to shoot down my spine, a throb to clench in my lower abdomen. I press my thighs together and scrape my teeth over my bottom lip. Torsten zeroes in on the movement, his restraint slipping, his eyes swirling, dark blue like a violent ocean storm.

“Rielle Carter,” he whispers and I like the way my name sounds on his lips. Like it so much more than I should. “If you think I don’t care about you at all, then I’ve done a piss poor job at being your friend.”

“Friend,” I repeat, working a swallow.

Torsten grins but it’s sinister. I’ve never seen this side of him before and I like it. “Sweetheart, come on now, I’ve always sought you out. At every Hawks event you show up to, I find you.”

“You flirt with everyone,” I remind him.

A growl escapes from his chest and his eyes narrow. Ooh, I’ve pissed him off. My thighs clench tighter and I wring my hands together. What the hell is wrong with me? How did this conversation go sideways so quickly? Minutes ago, I wanted to die of embarrassment, now I don’t care if Torsten knows all about my mistakes if he just eases the inferno building in my bloodstream.

“You’re right,” he agrees and I feel like a tidal wave of cold water puts out the fire in my body.

His eyes clear some and he straightens his posture. I let out a shaky exhale, feeling unsteady. I reach for my water glass and fumble it. Torsten’s hand darts out to grasp the glass before it tips and his hand wraps over mine, large and strong and heavy. “I think I can help you out, Ri.”

I freeze, shooting him a look of disbelief. Whiplash seizes me and I stare at him, my mouth falling open. My heart hammers in my chest; my thoughts swirl in my head.

Torsten takes a deep breath, stares directly into my eyes, and says, “Marry me.”

“What?” I gasp. I definitely heard