Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
There’s a big round of applause, and I take a moment to notice that Veena Miller is a very attractive woman. She’s approximately seventy feet tall in heels and wearing a dress in a color I could only describe as expensive pink. Fashion baffles me, but it does not baffle Veena, who looks stunning, with perfect highlights in her dark hair and tasteful jewelry.
My estimation of Steve Sailor’s cunning goes up another few notches. Veena’s audience is captivated as she walks them through a PowerPoint presentation about the evening’s entertainment. “Who can I count on to pose for pictures with our guests?” she asks, and a dozen hands fly into the air.
Everyone except me seems to think the jamboree is a great idea. At least I have an excellent bagel to console me. I take a bite, and then my traitorous eyes cut over for a glance at Chase.
And, hang on, I catch him glancing back at me. His eyes drop immediately to his own paper plate, which also contains two halves of a sesame bagel. One with strawberry cream cheese and one with…
I look at what remains of my lox half and then squint at his. Yup. They’re the same.
Figures. I used to find it funny when we chose the same things, but now it’s just a sharp reminder of my teenage heartbreak.
And now I’m supposed to skate with him again? Impossible. He must hate this idea, though. I have to know. “Psst.”
Chase glances over at me. What? he mouths.
I beckon.
He sets down his bagel on the counter, wipes his mouth on a napkin, and crosses to my side of the back wall. “Something the matter?” he asks in a low voice.
“You tell me,” I say, setting my food down because I don’t want to get cream cheese on my face in front of Chase. “I need to ask you about Steve Sailor’s obnoxious little idea.”
His jaw hardens. “So what’s your question?”
“Well…” I swallow. “Did you really mean to say yes? Or did we get scammed? I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why you would agree to do a figure skating program in the middle of your season when you have so many more important things to do.”
He rubs his handsome chin. “You can’t, huh?”
I shake my head. “Seems like the last thing you’d want to do. And I can’t believe the organization thinks this is a good idea. What if you got injured?”
He shakes his head. “They told me not to jump. And they don’t understand figure skating, so they think that lowers the risk level to, like, dancing on TikTok.”
“Oh,” I say heavily. “That’s so…”
“Ignorant?” He chuckles harshly. “Well, yeah. But Sailor gave me the speech about hungry children, and I don’t want to let ’em down.” He crosses his arms, and I notice his muscles flex, even without wanting to. I had one perfect night in those arms, and you’d think I would have forgotten about it by now. “He also said it would help your bid to get a full-time job with the Legends.”
I yank my gaze up to his face. “He did? That sounds too good to be true.”
“Maybe.” Chase shrugs. “If you still hate this… what did you call it? Obnoxious little idea? Then you can still back out when Veena calls your name.”
My blood pressure spikes immediately. “In front of this whole room full of people? And Sailor the Manipulator? Is that what you’re hoping I’ll do?”
He gives me a searching look. “That’s not what I said. But you told me you hated this idea. If you’re so reluctant, I’m giving you an out.”
“Are you going to back out?”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I’m not afraid.”
“Wait,” I hiss. “Did you just call me a chicken?”
His expression flickers with amusement. “Call it whatever you want.”
“Seriously, Chase.” I try to keep my voice down, but our whispered conversation is starting to piss me off. “What game are you playing right now? The only game I’m here for is hockey. But it gets more complicated every minute.”
He’s quiet for a second. “Why is hockey your thing now? Serious question.”
I stare at the floor and keep my voice down. “After I left skating, and I left my husband, I needed a fresh start. I did some technical training, which I really loved, but I don’t want to work in figure skating anymore. So I started working with hockey players one-on-one, and I loved that, too.”
He gives me a sideways glance. “Why didn’t you want to work in figure skating anymore? You could get choreography jobs.”
Great, now he’s going to become my career planner just so he can get rid of me. “If you must know, I got sick of being everyone’s big disappointment.”
His expression turns incredulous. “Didn’t you win a goddamn Olympic medal? Do I have that wrong?”