Page 18 of Check & Chase (Breakaway #1)

“That about covers it,” I confirm, taking a much-needed sip of the crisp Pinot Grigio she’d brought home. “Well, that and the fact that Tyler won’t stop texting me. I’ve gotten six more since this afternoon.”

We’re sprawled on the couch in our living room, Maya still in her scrubs, me in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt I stole from Jackson years ago.

“And you’re actually considering this insane plan?” Maya looks both impressed and concerned. “What happened to all that ethical boundary talk?”

“Still very much a concern,” I assure her. “Which is why I’m talking to you instead of texting Chase back.”

“But you want to text him back,” she observes shrewdly.

I shrug, not willing to admit it out loud. “The idea has appeal.”

“Because you want to get back at Tyler,” Maya presses. “Or because you want an excuse to get closer to Chase?”

“The first one,” I insist. “Definitely the first one.”

She gives me a look that says she doesn’t believe me for a second. “Just checking.”

“It would be strictly for appearances,” I continue. “Professional during PT, maybe some public outings where we’d be seen together. No funny business.”

“Funny business?” Maya repeats, laughing. “What are you, eighty? Just say sex, Emma.”

“Fine. No sex.” I take another sip of wine, ignoring the slight flush I can feel creeping up my neck. “Just enough public interaction to convince Tyler and Carina we’re together.”

“And you don’t think that’s going to make your PT sessions awkward as hell? ”

“Probably,” I admit. “But they’re already awkward. At least this way, the awkwardness would serve a purpose.”

Maya considers this, twirling her wine glass between her fingers. “You know, it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Really?”

“Tyler’s been a problem since you took this job,” she points out. “And from what you’ve told me, Carina sounds like a real piece of work too. If this gets both of them off your backs, maybe it’s worth trying.”

I stare at her, surprised by her support. “But what about the professional ethics? The boundaries?”

“Look, you’re not actually dating the guy. You’re not crossing any ethical lines as long as you keep the PT sessions strictly professional.” She shrugs. “People already think something’s going on after the gala. This just leans into it for mutual benefit.”

Put that way, it almost sounds reasonable. Almost .

“There would have to be rules,” I clarify slowly. “Clear boundaries about what’s allowed and what isn’t.”

“Obviously.”

“And a definite end date. Like, maybe after the Bears-Wolves game next month? That’s when Tyler tends to be most obnoxious.”

She nods, warming to the plan. “And you’d need a convincing story about how you got together.”

“Right.” I drain my wine glass, feeling a strange mix of anxiety and excitement. “This is crazy, isn’t it? That I’m actually considering this.”

“Sometimes crazy is exactly what you need.” Maya’s expression turns serious. “Just be careful, Em. Don’t get your heart involved. This is for show, not for real.”

“I know that,” I assure her, though something in my chest twinges at the reminder. “My heart is safely locked away, I promise.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but she drops the subject.

By the time I go to bed, I’ve made my decision.

“We need some ground rules,” I say without preamble the next day when Chase arrives for his PT session.

He raises an eyebrow, settling onto the table. “Didn’t you already give me some rules? Something about boundaries and professionalism?”

“Those rules were for your appointments specifically,” I clarify, closing my office door to ensure privacy. “These rules are for this fake dating nonsense.”

His face lights up with a smile that does dangerous things to my pulse. “Ahhh, so that’s a yes to my proposal?”

“It’s a ‘let’s discuss specifics,’” I correct, pulling out the list I’d made last night after my fourth glass of wine. “I have concerns.”

“I’m listening.” He gives me his full attention, though that infuriating grin remains.

I take a deep breath. “Rule number one: No sex. Absolutely zero sex.”

He blinks, clearly caught off guard by my directness. “Well, that’s… specific.”

“I’m serious, Chase. This is strictly for appearances.”

“Understood,” he agrees, though something flickers in his eyes. “What else?”

“Rule number two: No meeting parents or family beyond what’s absolutely necessary. Since this isn’t real, there’s no point in getting families involved.”

“Fair enough.”

“Rule number three: This arrangement has a clear end date. I propose the Bears-Wolves game next month.”

He nods. “Works for me.”

“Rule number four: No making out. ”

“Wait, what?” Chase sits up straighter, looking genuinely confused. “Couples make out, Emma. If we don’t kiss, it won’t be believable.”

I cross my arms. “I said no making out.”

“Is it because you’re out of practice?” he asks, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly tone that makes my stomach flip. “Well, I’m right here. Let’s practice.”

“Chase.”

“Blondie.” He sits up fully now, swinging his legs over the side of the table. “Come on, one kiss. We can practice quickly, see what’s allowed. Tongues? A peck? We need to establish parameters here.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“I’m thorough,” he counters, patting the space beside him. “This is important research.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Fine. Rule four revised: We can kiss, but no making out. And not when we’re alone. Only for public appearances to make our relationship look real.”

“That seems unnecessarily restrictive,” Chase says with a pout that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. “What if we need to practice? What if our first public kiss is awkward because we haven’t established how we’re doing it?”

“Then we’ll deal with that when it happens.”

“You’re no fun, Blondie.”

“Ms. Anderson,” I correct automatically. “And I’m plenty of fun. Just not with my patients.”

“Technically, I’m your fake boyfriend now too.”

“Fake being the operative word.” I consult my list again. “Rule number five: This ends immediately if either of us becomes uncomfortable or if it negatively impacts your recovery in any way.”

Chase nods, his expression turning more serious. “Agreed. Your comfort and my knee health come first.”

“And finally, rule number six: We don’t tell anyone it’s fake. Not teammates, not friends.” I pause, then add, “Except Maya. She already knows. ”

“Donovan might have to know too,” he admits. “He’s my captain and roommate when we’re on the road. Hard to keep secrets from him.”

I consider this, then nod. “Fine. Maya and Donovan, if you decide to tell him. No one else.”

“Agreed.” Chase extends his hand for a shake. “So, partners in deception?”

I take his hand, ignoring the warmth that spreads from the contact. “Partners in deception,” I confirm. “God help us both.”

“So, when do we start this charade?” He asks, still holding my hand longer than necessary.

“Donovan’s Halloween party tomorrow night?” I suggest. “You mentioned Tyler and Carina would both be there.”

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at eight.” He finally releases my hand, leaving my skin tingling. “Wear something that’ll make Tyler regret every life choice that led to losing you.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “Let’s focus on your knee first. Then we can worry about making Tyler regret his choices. Also, I’m bringing Maya, so we’ll make our own way there.”

We transition into the PT session, and I’m relieved to find that Chase maintains his promise of professionalism, following my instructions without unnecessary flirtation. If anything, he’s more focused than usual.

It’s only at the end of the session, as he’s preparing to leave, that he breaks character.

“One last thing,” he says, pausing at the door. “Should we have a practice run before tomorrow? Make sure our story holds up under scrutiny?”

“A practice run?” I repeat.

“Dinner tonight,” he clarifies. “Nothing fancy. Just to iron out details, make sure we’re on the same page.”

I hesitate, weighing the professionalism of declining against the practicality of his suggestion. “I suppose that makes sense,” I finally respond. “Where? ”

“Antonio’s? Seven o’clock?” It’s a local Italian place, small and intimate but public enough that we might be seen. Smart choice.

“Fine. But this is strictly business,” I remind him. “Nothing more.”

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else, Blondie.” Chase’s blue eyes gleam with mischief as he grins. “See you at seven.”

He leaves before I can respond, and I sink into my chair, already questioning my sanity. But then my phone buzzes with another text from Tyler, the eighth today, and my resolve strengthens.

If fake dating Chase Mitchell is what it takes to get Tyler out of my life once and for all, then that’s what I’ll do. It’s just temporary. Just for show.

What could possibly go wrong?

Antonio’s is more crowded than I expected for a Thursday night. The small restaurant hums with conversation and the clatter of silverware, the air rich with the scents of garlic, tomato, and freshly baked bread.

Chase is already seated when I arrive, having texted that he’d secured us a corner table. He stands when he sees me, balancing on his crutches, and something flutters in my chest at the way his eyes warm as they take me in.

I’ve chosen a simple outfit: jeans, a soft green sweater, ankle boots. Nothing flashy, nothing that screams “date.” But Chase looks at me like I’m wearing couture.

“You look beautiful,” he comments as I slide into the seat across from him.

“This is practice, remember? Save the compliments for when we have an audience.”

He smiles, unrepentant. “Just getting into character. ”

The waiter brings menus and takes our drink orders. A glass of Chianti for me, water for Chase, who explains he’s avoiding alcohol while on pain medication.

“So,” I begin once we’re alone again, “we should go over our story. Make sure the details align.”

“First coffee date was last Saturday,” he begins. “You spilled your latte on my favorite shirt, insisted on paying for dry cleaning. I asked for your number instead.”

“Second date was Monday,” I continue. “Dinner at that new place on Oak Street.”

“I was so charming you couldn’t resist agreeing to be my plus one for the gala.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “More like you begged and I took pity on you.”

“Begged?” Chase places a hand over his heart. “Mitchell men don’t beg, Blondie. We persuade.”

“Is that what you call it?”

Our banter is interrupted by the waiter returning with our drinks and taking our dinner orders. Once he’s gone, Chase leans forward, voice lowering.

“What about the party last year? Should we acknowledge knowing each other before, or pretend it never happened?”

I consider this. “Better to acknowledge meeting briefly but not elaborate. If anyone mentions seeing us together that night, we say we chatted but that was it.”

“Chatted,” Chase repeats with a smirk. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Shut up,” I mutter, fighting a smile. “What about Tyler?”

“He’ll keep his mouth shut if he knows what’s good for him,” Chase responds, his expression turning serious. “What about your brother? Jackson’s going to hear about this eventually. What’s our play there?”

I grimace, having deliberately avoided thinking about that complication. “I’ll handle Jackson. But be prepared for some hostility. ”

“More than usual, you mean?”

“Much more than usual.”

He grins, seemingly delighted by the prospect. “Worth it.”

Our food arrives, temporarily halting the conversation. We fall into easy small talk as we eat, the conversation flowing naturally despite the artificial nature of our arrangement.

We’re so engrossed in the conversation that I don’t notice we have company until a shadow falls across our table.

“Well, look who it is.”

I look up to find Donovan, the Bears’ captain, standing beside our table with his girlfriend, Anna.

“Donovan,” Chase greets him with a nod. “Anna. Joining us for dinner?”

“Just picking up takeout,” Donovan replies, his gaze shifting between us with obvious curiosity. “Didn’t expect to find you two here. Together.”

I feel heat creeping into my cheeks, suddenly very aware of how this looks.

“It’s a recent development,” Chase explains smoothly, reaching across the table to take my hand again. The gesture feels practiced, deliberate, meant for our audience. “Right, Emma?”

And just like that, our practice run becomes the real thing. I curl my fingers around his, forcing a smile. “Right. Very recent.”

“I see.” Donovan’s knowing grin says he thinks he sees quite a lot. “Well, don’t let us interrupt your… dinner.”

“Too late,” Chase mutters, but he’s smiling.

Donovan turns to me. “Nice to see you again, Emma. I assume we’ll be seeing more of you now?”

“She’ll be at the Halloween party tomorrow,” Chase answers for me, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of my hand in a way that’s surprisingly distracting.

“Great!” Anna exclaims. “I need more female allies at these team things. The testosterone gets overwhelming. ”

“I can imagine,” I reply, finding myself warming to her immediately.

After a few more moments of small talk, they collect their takeout and leave, but not before Donovan gives Chase a look that clearly says they’ll be discussing this development later.

Once they’re gone, Chase releases my hand, though the warmth of his touch lingers. “Well, that saves us the trouble of announcing it at the party,” he notes with a wry smile.

“You think he believed it?”

“Definitely. Donovan will have texted the entire team before they even get to their car.”

The realization that our fake relationship is now officially “public” sends a flutter of nervousness through my stomach. There’s no going back now.

“You okay with this?” Chase asks, studying my face. “We can still back out if you want.”

I think about Tyler’s persistent texts, the flowers, the way he cornered me at the gala. Then I think about the relief I felt when Chase intervened.

“I’m okay,” I assure him, and I’m surprised to find it’s true. “Though I should probably warn you that Tyler won’t take this lying down.”

“I’m counting on it,” he says, a challenge gleaming in his eyes. “Let the games begin, Blondie.”

I smile. Maybe this ridiculous plan might actually work. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll enjoy it more than I should.