Page 53 of Faking it with the Billionaire

She waves back excitedly and spins around to face me. “Did you see that? Noah waved to me.”

Before I have time to answer, Noah is pointing at me and shaking his head in dismay. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“It belongs to Greyson. Take it up with him,” I shout back.

Noah grins. “I know. We gave it to him as a joke. You’re not supposed to wear the other team’s jersey. He’s going to kill you when he sees what you have on.”

I exhale a hearty laugh. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m behind the glass.” I tap the partition and give a little wave when Kyler skates by, a frown on his face when he catches a quick glance in my direction.

Greyson shouts something, but he’s gone long before Noah or I hear whatever it is that’s on his mind.

“I’m telling you, take that off before he loses his fucking mind,” Noah says, glaring at me. “You can’t be supporting the other team!”

I scoff at his suggestion. “I’m not a—whoever they are—fan.”

“Bruisers,” Noah says. “And you’re wearing their jersey like you’re in support of them.”

“I’m not a fan. It was the only jersey I could find. Why the hell would you give him this as a joke?” I ask, pointing at it.

“Swear jar!” Bristol says, pointing at both Noah and me. “One dollar each!”

“Oh my gosh,” I groan. “Hell isn’t even that bad of a word.”

Bristol’s jaw drops. “Two dollars! No arguing.”

The kid is all sass; I give her that. “Fine, when we get home, I’ll put two dollars into the jar.”

“You too, Noah. You owe me a dollar.”

“How about I buy you a soda?” Noah asks.

Bristol shakes her head. “I know you and Daddy get stuff for free. Besides, I can’t buy a unicorn with a soda.”

“Huh, a unicorn?” Noah smirks and shakes his head. “Good luck,” he says, staring at me.

I’m not sure if he’s referring to the fact that Bristol is six going on sixteen or that the jersey I’m wearing might start World War III.

Noah heads onto the ice when Kyler skates off and to the bench. The coach is blasting him about missing some easy play, but honestly, I can’t imagine any play is easy.

Did he miss on purpose? Was there another threatening letter left behind for him, instructing him to throw the game?

It’s not a question I can ask here where anyone might overhear us.

Greyson grumbles and glances over his shoulder at me. “Are you trying to make me bleed?”

“What?” I ask.

“You’re cheering on the Island Bruisers?” Greyson’s eyes are wide. “I can’t believe my girlfriend is supporting the other team.”

“This is your shirt—” I refrain from calling himdumbass, although it does cross my mind.

His eyes widen, and he gestures for me to spin around. It’s not a dress.

“Not happening,” I say. What’s the big deal?

“Take it off,” Kyler says, and his top lip snarls. “My girlfriend isn’t wearingthattonight.”

I laugh nervously. “Yeah, that’s not a good idea.”