Page 87 of Faking it with the Billionaire
She rests her hands on his, and as soon as he goes to flip them over, she shoots them back. He’s definitely giving her an advantage, moving slow enough to make sure she wins.
“My turn.” She grins wickedly, and Jasper groans.
“Again?” He puts his hands on top and pulls them away too slow, constantly getting his hands smacked by Bristol.
I raise an eyebrow. “That doesn’t look like a very nice game, Bristol.”
“It’s not,” Jasper mutters.
Bristol grins. “But it’s fun!”
“Hitting your uncle is fun?” Jasper groans as he tries to move his hands away. But he’s too slow. “Maybe I should wear my hockey gloves for this game. You’re going to leave bruises.”
“Don’t be a baby,” Bristol says. She sticks out her tongue and then jumps off the bench, running down the locker room hallway.
“Where are you going?” I call after her.
“Bathroom!”
Jasper shakes out his hands. “I was letting her win until I realized the kid hits as bad as her dad. Kyler and I used to play this game as kids, and he’d always win. How is he doing?”
“He’s holding himself together. He’s with the league right now, explaining everything. How much do you know?” I ask.
“I knew there was a threat against his kid, and that was why he hired you, but the actual threat he kept a secret. He wouldn’t tell me what was going on, and I assumed it had to do with Ashleigh. I never liked her.”
“Why is that?”
Jasper stretches and glances back in the direction of the bathroom. He probably doesn’t want his niece to overhear our conversation. “She was a bit too judgmental for my taste. But I never thought she’d be a suspect.”
“The good news is we actually have a suspect,” I say.
“Suspect for what?” Bristol asks, skipping back to the bench.
I exchange a quick glance with Jasper. This is a conversation that needs to change fast. “For our murder mystery game,” Jasper says. “Remember that game I bought you for Christmas last year.”
“You bought it for Daddy,” Bristol says. “And I’m too young to play.”
“Right. Right,” Jasper says with a nod. “Maybe in a few years, kiddo.” He ruffles her hair and stands. “I’m going to gear up and skate. Do you want to join me?”
Bristol’s eyes light up. “Yes!”
“What about you?” Jasper asks. “Do you want to join us?”
I inhale nervously, and my breath catches in my throat. “I’ve only ice skated once, when I was a kid, and I wasn’t great at it.”
“I can teach you,” Bristol says. “It’s easy.”
“What size do you wear?” Jasper asks.
“Eight,” I say.
He mentally does the calculation and returns with a men’s skate for me to wear and a pair for Bristol as well. Hers have stickers and are lavender. Mine are black with white laces.
We lace up our skates, and Jasper tosses me a sweatshirt from Kyler’s wood locker, throwing it at me. “You might get cold on the ice,” he says.
I don’t imagine Kyler will mind if I borrow a sweatshirt of his. I slip it on, and his scent wafts over me. It’s warm and cocoons me as I carefully follow Bristol and Jasper out of the locker room and toward the ice arena.
The discussion about the suspect with Jasper will have to wait.
