“That’s the one,” Alex replies.

She gives me a light punch on the arm. “My respect for you just went up a few notches. I had no idea you were into the nerdy chicks.”

“She’s not nerdy,” I say defensively.

Violet gives me a look. “Uh, she knows an insane amount about aquatic animals and can rhyme off statistics like a Beat poet. Also, as a nerd, I can easily identify other nerds—and she is definitely one. It’s too bad they can’t put her in something other than beige, because she’s also super gorgeous. You should invite her along. Introducing her to your friends will go a long way toward getting you into her pants—if that’s your plan, anyway.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? When was the last time you went out with someone, Rook?” Violet looks like she’s about to start in on me about dating. It wouldn’t be the first time in the past year.

At one point Violet and the rest of the girls mentioned setting me up with one of Poppy’s massage therapist friends I’d been interested in back when I first came to Chicago. But I wasn’t in the right headspace, and I didn’t want to make things awkward or mess up a friendship if things didn’t work out.

“Nerdy tour guide is the Alaska girl from last summer.” Alex passes me the flask behind her back.

“Wait, what? She’s Alaska girl? That’s so awesome!” Violet jumps up and down once with excitement. It quickly turns into a grimace, and she grabs on to her boobs. I look away because Violet, for being as small as she is, has a huge rack, and she’s currently wearing a shirt that shows off a significant amount of cleavage, and all the jumping and self-groping only draws more attention to it. Also, I don’t want Alex to catch me looking.

“Yeah, I don’t know if awesome is how I would describe this situation.”

“Why not? It’s like fate.” She grabs Alex by the shirt and tips her head back so she can look up at him. “Just like when you accidentally let your nerd hang out when you mentioned how I was reading Fielding at a hockey game. My beaver took the reins that night.”

He gazes down at her, wearing a half smile, all the fucking love in the world oozing out of them like freaking rainbows. Actually, I think he might be looking down her top. “Best damn night of my life.”

I’m about to ask them if they want some privacy, but Violet returns her attention to me. “You have to go talk to her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it’s that simple. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Apparently he lied about his job,” Alex tells her.

Violet frowns. “Why would you do that?”

I shrug. “Because I’m an idiot. She didn’t know who I was, and it was kind of nice being a regular guy for a few weeks, you know what I mean?”

“So what kind of job did you tell her you have?”

“I told her I was an alpaca farmer, which would’ve been true if I didn’t play professional hockey.”

Her frown deepens. “That’s an oddly specific lie.”

“My parents were alpaca farmers.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Really. How did I not know that?”

“It doesn’t come up much in conversation, I guess?”

“Okay, so you lied about your job—no big deal, right? Unless you lied about something else?”

I scrub a hand over my mouth and mutter, “My name.”

“I’m sorry, did you say your name? Why lie about that?”

“Well, like I said, she didn’t recognize me, and it wasn’t like I made up a fake one. I just gave her my nickname instead.”

She blinks a few times. “You told her your name was Rookie?”

“No, I told her it was RJ, which is what my dad always called me and what my brother and sister still call me now. So it wasn’t totally a lie. I mean, my name is pretty uncommon. Shit. I handled this all wrong, and now she’s going to look me up and see all the bunny crap.”

“So was it just that you didn’t want her to know you used to let the puck bunnies use you like their personal dildo?”

“No. That wasn’t it. I mean, now it’s obviously going to be an issue, but I just wanted to be normal for a few weeks. And now she knows I lied to her about my job and my name, so I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want anything to do with me. And even if she’s willing to talk to me, once she realizes what else I’ve left out she’ll probably never want to speak to me again.”

This fuckup is on me. I kept putting off telling her the truth, maybe in part because I hoped that if she fell for me the way I fell for her, by the time I finally told her what I really did for a living, it wouldn’t matter.

“Well, that’s a complication, since you’re still obviously hung up on her.”

“Yeah. I have her number, though, so that’s good, right?”

“If she’ll answer your calls, sure,” Alex says.

“And what happens when she finds out about my personal relationship history?”

“You mean that you used to be a manwhore?” Violet asks.

“Yeah. That.”

Violet puts a hand on my shoulder, her expression serious. “If it’s meant to be, she’ll get over it—as long as you didn’t give her some kind of lasting STD as a gift.”

CHAPTER 14

WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW . . .

Lainey

Eden’s disembodied head appears in the doorway of the observation room. She’s the reason I have this job. We grew up homeschooled in the same community, but when she became a teenager she went to a local school and then went on to attend regular college. We still stayed close and even managed to keep in contact when she moved to Chicago a couple of years ago, despite my not being on social media.

When things got a little crazy with my family after I returned from Alaska, Eden suggested I come out for a visit. Since I’d already braved a plane before, I decided I could do it again. Also, my parents were back to smothering me, especially since I came home brokenhearted. My mother never outright said I told you so, but it was implied. Often.

I went for a weeklong visit, fell in love with the aquarium, and a couple of months later returned, this time with a job and an apartment.

“Hey. I figured I’d find you in here.” Eden lets the door close behind her.

“It’s peaceful.” I turn off the tablet clutched in my hands, almost glad for the break from yet another distressing article I’ve stumbled upon.

“Researching again?”

“Something like that. Am I needed up front?” Occasionally I’ll have to work at the information desk. I don’t mind talking to people one-on-one, especially when they’re asking about the animals.

She leans against the door. “I’d stay put for right now.”

“He’s back again, isn’t he?” I fold my hands in my lap to keep from wringing them.

“Yeah. He’s back again.”

It’s been over a week. Nine days, actually. Nine long days since RJ—otherwise known as Rook Bowman, captain for Chicago’s NHL hockey team and apparently quite the notorious playboy, according to the many, many accounts on the World Wide Web—dropped back into my life.