Page 55 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show
“I’m serious,” I say.
“So am I.” Ella’s forehead is furrowed, and yeah, she does totally look serious.
“Too bad I already posted it on social media,” Mateo says slyly, doing a nonchalant shrug thing I immediately despise.
My hands tense.
It’s too late.
“You posted it while we were speaking,” I pout.
“I’m taking you to dinner, Mateo,” Ella announces. “Have you ever eaten caviar before?”
“Guys, this is serious,” I plead.
“It’s done,” Mateo says, glancing at his phone. “It’s already getting lots of comments.”
“I promised the Blizzards I would not interfere in their matches.”
“Honey, if this Axel guy slept with Luke’s girlfriend, don’t you think he deserves a little pushback?” Ella asks.
I open my mouth, then shut it.
Ella gives me a meaningful glance. “I think you’re trying to say ‘you’re welcome’.”
“I can’t imagine anyone cheating on Luke,” I say.
Mateo snorts, and Ella grins. Though Ella’s been in a smiley mood ever since Luke disclosed that information about his ex-girlfriend.
“We know that already,” Mateo explains.
I nod. “Infidelity is bad.”
The two giggle more.
“What is it?”
“You would never cheat on him, would you?” Ella’s eyes dance, and my organs slam together, like I’m on the ice with defensemen rushing at me who know I am every bit as incompetent as I look.
They know.
I’m sure they know.
“I mean, I guess, he’s good looking.” I try to feign casualness.
It’s not working if the giggles are anything to go by, which I’m pretty sure they are.
“He’s a ten out of ten,” Mateo says.
My gaze moves to Luke. He’s helping the girls skate. Aisha is hovering behind the cameras, looking happy. And oh yeah, he totally is a ten out of ten.
His cheekbones are all chiseled, a place for light to sit upon, and shadows to cling to underneath, and his locks are the kind of gold people in fairytales used to steal. His eyes are big and blue, glowing with understanding and compassion, even though I’ve seen those same eyes glint with coldness when they belonged to his older brother. His limbs are long and muscular, and I know how comforting they feel when I’m wrapped within them, just as I know how ripped they are when he’s posing for commercial photographs.
Or stripping.
Like in New Hampshire.
My eyelashes flutter down. If I concentrate, I can almost smell his scent. Lemon and cotton and...
