What the hell was I thinking?

That thought echoed through my head like the bells of Notre Dame—repeating itself again and again until the words were too soft to hear.

There might have also been a few fucks thrown in for luck.

Somehow Granny joking about my teammates dancing half-naked at her birthday party and then me blurting it to Wes at lunch had gotten the thought lodged in my brain. So when Emma mentioned the fundraiser for the youth center, the words about my teammates going Magic Mike just tumbled from my mouth.

Why did I agree to her terms?

Because otherwise she would have helped me for the wrong reason. She wasn’t being evicted like she’d been led to believe. So deceiving her that way felt as appealing as being knocked out of commission with diarrhea during a playoff game.

No, I hadn’t missed the irony. I had no issue with deceiving Granny when it came to having a girlfriend—but I couldn’t do the same to Emma.

Maybe it had something to do with her growing up in the system.

Maybe it had something to do with her helping underprivileged kids.

Either way, she deserved more than me lying to her.

Did that mean I planned to come clean about Wes and the building?

Hell, no. I didn’t want to risk her not helping me out. All she had to do was be my fake girlfriend, then Granny would be happy.

So there you had it—except for one minor issue.

Right. One I’m-so-totally-fucking-screwed major issue.

Now I had to convince some of my teammates that stripping in front of a group of screaming women was a brilliant idea. Correction. Make that stripping and dancing in front of a group of screaming women was a brilliant idea.

But this wasn’t like dancing at a nightclub. It needed to be choreographed. And what did a bunch of hockey players know about that?

Emma’s grin faded. “What if your grandmother doesn’t believe I’m your girlfriend?”

“Why wouldn’t she believe it?”

“I’m not a very good actress…mostly because I’m not good at lying.” She lifted her shoulders in a what-can-you-do? shrug.

“Didn’t you used to play make-believe as a kid?” I asked.

“Sure I did, but that was different.”

“How so?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I never kissed anyone when I was playing make-believe.”

I laughed. “Good point. So you don’t think you’ll be convincing if you have to kiss me?”

Her face grew flushed and she shrugged again.

A drop of water dripped from her hair and trickled down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb. She gasped softly, the pulse in her neck beating fast. I pressed a light kiss against her lips.

She didn’t pull away—always a positive sign.

With my mouth still tingling from the simple touch of my lips against hers, I kissed her again, this time a little harder. Unable to stop myself, I traced the tip of my tongue along her lower lip. She released a stuttering sigh.

In the back of my head, I was vaguely aware of a door clicking open. “Sorry to interrupt,” a girl’s voice said.

While I might have been a little dazed by the kiss, Emma wasn’t. The way she leaped back and banged into the desk, you’d have thought she had been poked with a branding iron.

“Yes?” Emma asked, holding the blanket tightly around her, her wet dress clinging to her legs. Unfortunately, with the way she was gripping the blanket, I could no longer see her bra and pebbled nipples—the cause of my hard-on.

“Any idea when we’re getting more Sensual Sunburst massage oil?” the girl in the doorway asked.

“I put in an order for it not long ago. Let me just look through the shipment that came in this morning. It might be there.”

“Okay. I’ll tell the customer you’ll be right out.”

The girl gave me a quick, curious glance, then left.

Emma turned around, scanning the office. It was only then that I noticed various sized shipping boxes stacked against the wall.

She walked to one pile, shifted a few boxes around, and placed one on the floor. She opened it and searched through the contents.

I guess whatever she was looking for wasn’t there. She moved the box to the side and grabbed another one.

I crouched beside her. “You want any help?”

She studied me for a moment before finally nodding. “If the massage oils were included in this shipment, they’ll be in one of these boxes.” She removed another one from the pile and handed it to me. “Thanks.”

While I opened it, she grabbed a third box and pulled the top open. We both searched through our respective boxes.

“What’s the oil called again?” I asked, holding a bottle of vanilla sugar massage oil. According to the label, the oil was self-heating and enhanced stimulation during intimate and erotic massages.

Not surprisingly, my cock thought this was a good idea, and hinted I should pick up a bottle.

Or two.

“Sensual Sunburst massage oil.” Emma leaned over to see what I had in my hand. “Nope, not that one. Are there any other massage oils in the box?”

One by one, I pulled each of them out far enough to check the labels. “Yes, but none of these are what you’re looking for.”

I reached for another box similar to the ones we had been opening. “What made you decide to open the woman’s version of an adult store?”

Emma huffed, then grumbled, “It’s not an adult store.”

“You sell sex toys and porn, right? That makes this an adult store.”

She glared at me. Clearly I’d hit a sore spot. “But unlike an adult store, the sex toys and porn sold here aren’t the hard-core ones designed for men. Plus they’re in a separate part of the store. The majority of the merchandise here supports the concept of love and romance. It’s not just about sex. It’s about finding the right person and being an equal with them. It’s about acceptance and being comfortable with who you are.”

“So why this business instead of a bakery or a clothing store?”

She laughed. “As much as I like baking, I’m not a morning person. So that was a definite no when it came to opening a bakery. I’d rather be in bed at four a.m. than making bread and other baked treats.”

“So why the love store?”

She shrugged, her attention on the closed box in front of her. “I guess that’s because I grew up in the foster care system. It’s not a very loving environment. I mean there are some good homes out there, but there are a lot of bad ones, too. The good news is you don’t stay long in the bad ones. The bad news is you don’t stay in the good homes for long either. Maybe I was just hoping the store would bring me luck when it came to finding someone to love me no matter what.”

“Has it?”

“Not yet. But in the meantime, I get to watch people in love. I get to see mothers with their young kids, and I get to see how much they love them.” Something about her voice on the last part gave me pause.

The sadness.

The emptiness.

The pain.

But that came as no surprise. Her parents had died and she was dumped in foster care. The same place I would have ended up if not for Granny.

“How old were you when your parents died?” I asked. I had a feeling she was a lot younger than I had been when mine died.

She chewed on her lip for a second, then opened the box. “My parents aren’t dead. Or maybe they are now and I’m not aware of it.”

“What do you mean?” And why did I have a feeling that whatever had happened left her more damaged than she let on?

She shrugged again and searched through the box. “It’s no big deal. They’re no longer in my life, and I’ve long since moved on.” She pulled out a bottle of massage oil. “Here it is.”

Before I could say anything, she scrambled to her feet and disappeared out the office door.

When she didn’t return after a few minutes, I left the room to search for her. The girl who had come looking for the massage oil was ringing it in, but Emma was nowhere to be seen. While I paid for the heart blanket, I asked her where Emma had disappeared to.

“She went home to change into dry clothes. I doubt she’ll be long if you want to wait.”

“That’s okay. I’ll catch up with her later.”

First things first.

I needed to convince my teammates to help me out with the second part of my deal with Emma—the part that involved our clothes coming off in front of a live audience.

And for that, I needed all the luck I could get.