Page 51 of Bleacher Report
I nod, even though I’m not sure if I should be nervous or not.
“He’s different when he’s on,” she adds knowingly, following my gaze as Hunter slips easily into reporter mode. He smiles,laughs at something one of them says, and answers each question like he’s done this a thousand times. Because he has.
“He’s…good at this,” I murmur.
“He is,” Penelope agrees. “But don’t let him fool you. That’s his game face. Speaking of which, I heard that he botched your first interview.”
“How did you hear that?” I ask.
“Trust me. Nothing in this stadium stays a secret. These boys gossip harder than a group of southern housewives whispering at a Sunday church luncheon.”
Before I can think too deeply into it, the familiar feeling of Hunter’s hand on my back returns. I turn to find him at my side.
“All they wanted to talk about was us,” Hunter says quietly, leaning in close to my ear. “Every question, every headline—they’re circling.”
The heat of his breath against my neck sends shivers down my spine. I’m beginning to realize how much I like it when he stands this close, even though I know that I shouldn’t let it affect me this way.
“You ladies won’t mind if I borrow her for a second, will you?” he asks.
They all nod and as he’s leading me away, I hear Isla’s voice. “The broom closet at the end of the hall has a lock on it. Just in case…”
My cheeks redden and Hunter huffs out a chuckle as he leads me down one of the quieter hallways.
“I didn’t realize how much of a circus this was going to be,” he admits, voice low. “We might have to sell this harder than I thought.”
I glance up at him, unsure where this is going. “Okay… What does that mean?”
“It means that while we’re in public I might need to kiss you to sell it. I’ve already had a few comments from reporters asking ifyou and me are planning any lip-locking tonight. I don’t want to catch you off guard if it comes down to that.”
My stomach does a stupid little flip. “So, what—you’ll give me a heads up?”
“Exactly.” His eyes meet mine, something unreadable flickering there. “Consider it rule number five. I’ll give you a warning.”
I nod, swallowing against the sudden dryness in my throat. “Okay. I accept your addendum to the rules.”
Hunter’s lips curve into that crooked half-smile that makes it way too easy to forget this is all fake. “Good. Let’s get out on the rink before Penelope and Isla start planning our wedding.”
Hunter helps me lace up my skates and a crisp chill hits my face the second we step through the tunnel that leads to the ice. The rink is practically glowing under the festival lights strung up around the plexiglass. Families are out skating, varying levels of experience, but everyone’s having a good time.
Hunter’s hand finds the small of my back again, steady and warm. “Ever skated before?”
“Once or twice. I’m more of a tennis court girl, remember?”
He grins down at me, clearly picturing me falling flat on my face. “Good. You’ll make me look like a hero.”
Before I can argue, he’s tugging me onto the ice, one large hand wrapped firmly around mine.
We skate. Or rather, he glides, and I wobble and do my best not to eat it in front of half of Seattle.
It’s…fun. More fun than I thought pretending would be.
Until the mood shifts like a cold front.
Hunter stiffens, slowing us to a stop at the edge of the rink, his grip on my hand tightening.
I follow his gaze and feel my stomach drop.
Bethany Richards. Dressed in an elegant, figure-hugging coat, hair sleek, smile sharp. She’s standing in the opening of theplayers tunnel, closer than I’d like her to be, watching us like she’s already plotting her next move.
