Page 11 of Faking All the Way
She reaches up to drag both hands down her face, starting to pace a little as she talks, as if she has too much pent up energy to stay still.
“So when he showed up at the airport with his perfect new fiancée, I panicked. I couldn’t stand the thought of him looking at me with that condescending pity, you know? Like I’m some pathetic single person who never got over him and can’t move on with her life. So—” She looks over at me for the first time since she started talking, grimacing slightly. “So I blurted out the first name that came to mind. I never in a million years expected you to actually materialize in person. I mean, what are the odds of running into a professional hockey player at the Maplewood Regional Airport?”
Pretty astronomical, honestly. But here we are anyway.
“I know I’ve put you in an impossible position,” she adds, shaking her head. “And I’m so sorry. I’ll figure out some way to explain it to my family. Maybe I’ll say we had a huge fight on the way here, or we broke up, or you had to leave for some emergency?—”
“Why me?” I ask, pressing away from the door and taking a step toward her.
She stops pacing and stares at me in confusion. “What?”
“Why my name specifically? You could have invented anyone. Some random guy named Mike or Dave. Why say Asher Vaughn?”
Her cheeks flush with obvious embarrassment, and she runs a hand through her dark hair, twisting the ends around her fingers. “I… I’m a nervous flyer. I was watching TV to try to distract myself before we landed, and there was an ESPN story about your contract situation and injury recovery or something.”
Right. My very public career uncertainties being broadcast for the whole world.
She blows out a breath, her internal tempo seeming to slow a bit now that she’s gotten it all out. “I truly never thought you’d actually show up. If I’d known you’d be in town for Christmas, I would’ve said any other name, I promise.”
She pauses, her brows pulling together as if some new thought has just occurred to her.
“Actually… whyareyou here? In Maplewood, I mean.” She rests her hands on her hips, studying me curiously. “You’re obviously not from here, or it would have been front-page news in our local paper for weeks. And you’re definitely not here to see me, since we only met today. So what’s a hockey player from Philadelphia doing spending his holidays in nowhere Virginia?”
Chapter Six
Kat
When I ask why he’s in Maplewood, Asher’s expression immediately transforms. The easy confidence that carried him through our impromptu performance evaporates, replaced by something guarded and unhappy. His jaw tightens, eyes shuttering like steel doors slamming closed, and I can practically feel him withdrawing from the conversation.
I’ve just stepped on a conversational landmine, clearly.
“I have family in town. My dad lives here,” he says, his tone clipped and final in a way that screamssubject closed.
The vagueness of his answer catches me off guard. I’ve lived in Maplewood for most of my life, and trust me—if anyone in this town had a connection to a professional hockey player, it would be the ultimate bragging rights. People here still talk about Peter Fletcher making varsity as a sophomore fifteen years ago like he won the Stanley Cup.
“Family?” I can’t hide my surprise, or my growing curiosity. “I mean, I’ve lived here basically forever, and I’ve never heard anyone mention having a connection to professional hockey.That’s exactly the sort of thing everyone knows about in a town this small.”
“Yeah, well.” Asher lets out a sound that’s half laugh, half bitter snort. “I’m not surprised my father doesn’t advertise our relationship.”
“Oh.” I scramble for something to say that won’t make this worse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry?—”
“It’s fine.” He dismisses my apology with a shake of his head, although his smile is tight. “It’s not your fault, and it’s not your problem to solve.”
The conversation dies out, and I fidget with the sleeves of my sweater as he glances out at my parents’ yard, clearly getting lost in some private thought.
Dammit. This man just saved me from humiliation in front of my condescending ex-boyfriend, and I’ve managed to stumble directly into what’s clearly painful family territory.
Way to go, Kat. Brilliant foot in mouth moment.
“Are you planning to stay with your dad while you’re in town?” I venture tentatively, although his body language makes me think I already know the answer.
His response is immediate and emphatic. “Absolutely not.”
The vehemence in his voice makes me wince. Whatever went wrong between him and his father, it’s bad enough that he’d rather pay for accommodations than spend a single night under the same roof.
That thought sparks a new one in my mind, and my grimace deepens as a horrible realization strikes me.
“Wait.” I turn to face him fully, wrapping my arms around myself to stave off the chill. “Where exactly are you planning to stay?”
