Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I don’t disagree but I won’t get my hopes up. “Regardless, she just got out of a bad breakup. She doesn’t want anything more than something casual. She said as much. So even if I had a modicum of feelings—”
“You don’t have to be so Mister Vocabulary to cover up your feelings.” Ivy snorts.
“An iota,” I say tightly, refusing to give in.
“More like a fuck-ton.”
Fine. I hold my hands up in surrender. “Even if that’s true,” I continue, “there’s nothing I can do about it. She’s here with Chase, and he’s not into anything more, and…” What’s the point? The cards are stacked against us.
I drag a hand through my hair, wishing there were another way, wishing I didn’t have a pact, wishing I could somehow lay my heart on the line for Trina and not lose my best friend in doing so. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get over her.”
But it will hurt, because in one stupid, annoying, amazing, incredible week, I’ve fallen in love with a girl who stole her ex’s tickets and then my heart.
A little later, we leave, but once we reach Chase’s home there’s a message blinking up at me on my phone.
Ivy: Call me when you get this.
That’s not foreboding at all.
In the garage, I step away from the two of them and dial her. “What’s going on?”
“Your ex did a podcast with the shit-tastic reporter. And it’s about Trina.”
I want to kill them before I even listen.
35
BAD LUCK CHARM
Chase
The three of us are gathered at the kitchen counter, the site of so many fantastic dinners and breakfasts over the last week. The place where we’ve gotten to know her, where we’ve laughed, and argued, and shared. Where we made the new pact.
Now, with dread crawling through my veins, I open my podcast app. I’m bracing myself for the worst. Trina’s face is pale. Ryker is a stone, and I’ve got to keep my shit together since that’s what I do.
I keep it together, no matter what happens.
“It’s going to be fine,” I say tightly, then I hit play.
The reedy voice of a one-time hockey podcaster fills my home. “Bryce Tucker in the house. You might know me from my sports coverage, but celeb coverage is way more fun. So let’s do it. I have a fantastic guest here today. The Stuntwoman.”
Abby laughs. Or Selena, or whoever she is. It’s a familiar sound, one I used to liken to bells, but now, it’s the sound of deception wrapped up in a pretty package. “Hey everyone, this is your girl Selena here, AKA The Stuntwoman. And no, friends,” she stage whispers, “that’s not my real name.”
“Never give up your name,” Bryce says. “Now, I hear you have an interesting story for us.”
“I sure do.”
I rub a hand across the back of my neck. This is going to be bad. Trina’s fidgeting with her nails, picking at her cuticles. I’ve never seen her do that before. It’s so unlike her. I don’t even know what to say to reassure her.
If I can say anything.
“Remember a week or so back when that hockey game made the news for the VIP evening?”
Oh, shit.
This is going to be worse than bad.
Trina purses her lips together. Ryker stops pacing and sets his hands on the counter, like he’s going to rip it out from the floor.
“Well, I did a little digging about the guest. And want to know what I found out?”
No, just no.
“So this woman who won the tickets to hang out with Chase Weston and Ryker Samuels, and is now supposedly dating Weston?”
“Supposedly. That’s a fighting word,” Bryce says, clearly amused by his guest.
“So, on Friday night she goes to the game. The next night, she’s at the dog park with him. A couple days later, she’s hanging out with the other guy at her bookstore and then the library, and then she goes to a wedding with Weston tonight? Something is sus. I mean, earlier in the week she was clearly posting pics on Samuels’ social feed?”
“Wait. Wait. I have to ask, how is she clearly posting pics?”
She sighs like c’mon. “He didn’t even have social beforehand, and then there’s a shot of him at her bookstore, along with team shots and so on? She’s got to be some kind of image consultant for Samuels, for sure,” she says, and I wince.
Way to hit the nail on the head, though of course Trina’s so much more.
“All right, so your conclusion is?” Bryce asks.
“She’s a prop. She’s an engineer. She’s a provocateur. Because she’s also a, wait for it, fake date.”
Trina’s breath comes sharply.
“No way is she his real GF. Guarantee it’s fake,” my former girlfriend says.
Trina swallows roughly, then drops her head in her hand. I rub her shoulder. Ryker lets go of his irritation long enough to smooth a hand over her back.