Page 7 of Our Pucking Secret (2-Hour Quickies #4)

Logan

I can't stop staring at the records spread across her hotel room floor.

"We need to confirm this somehow," she says, breaking our long silence.

“If I contact the hospital now, this could become a media mess. And I’ve got playoff sponsors who'd love that.”

“The hospital would deny it anyway.” She pauses. “What if we control the story? Together. To stop gossip, we need a united front.”

"Right. I'll just ask my parents if they've ever heard of..." I wave vaguely at her medical papers.

"Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome."

"Whatever. 'Hey Mom, Dad, quick question about genetic disorders—'"

"Okay, I get it." She runs her hands through her hair in frustration. "What if we just... became friends with all parents first?"

I snort. "The LaRues don't do friends. They do business associates and charity board members. "

"Fine. What about work connections?"

"You want to pretend to be a potential investor in their company?"

“Stop mocking me. It’s called brainstorming.”

“You’re right. Sorry.”

“I could be your new vet.”

He laughs, sarcastically. “Right. Told you we don’t do pets. But my teammates could definitely use a vet. They’d love you do their physicals."

"Not funny,” I frown. “But you’re right. It’s about ‘infiltrating’ your family, not your team anyway.”

She paces the room like she’s mapping a heist. “There has to be a way to get close enough to learn more. To confirm…”

"Without raising suspicions," I add. "Without them wondering why we're so interested in their past."

"Right. We need a reason to be around them. To ask questions. To—"

I straighten. "To be family."

She stops pacing. "What?"

"Think about it. Friends are suspicious. Coworkers are temporary. But family..."

"Gets invited to everything," she finishes slowly. "Gets to ask personal questions."

"Gets access to family history."

"Gets trusted with stories."

We stare at each other as the idea takes shape.

"But how..." she starts.

"We'd have to be engaged." The words come out before I fully think them through. "It's the only way they'd let you in completely. The only way they'd share everything."

"Engaged." She tests the word. "Your parents would accept that? A small-town vet? "

"They'd hate it." I grin despite myself. "Which makes it perfect. They'd be so focused on that, they wouldn't question anything else."

She considers this. "And the Collinses? Would they accept you?"

"A rich hockey player dating their daughter? They'd probably worry I'm not good enough."

"They would," she agrees, but there's no malice in it. Just fact.

"So we do this," I say. "Introduce you to the LaRues, me to the Collinses. Learn everything we can."

"And if we find proof? If we confirm it?"

"Then we decide how to tell them. One step at a time."

"And if we don't like what we find?"

"We stage a friendly breakup. Go our separate ways."

She sinks onto the bed. "This is insane."

"More insane than being switched at birth?"

A small smile tugs at her lips. "Fair point."

I sit beside her, careful to maintain distance. She shifts slightly closer. Not enough to mean anything. Just enough to feel it. "It would have to be convincing."

"Obviously."

"I mean really convincing. The LaRues will be watching for any sign it's not real. Any sign you’re a gold digger."

"So will the Collins. Except for the gold digger part." She turns to face me. "Ground rules?"

"No telling anyone the truth. Not even siblings."

“You have siblings?”

“Yeah. Two younger ones. Jett is also a hockey player. Annalise is a scientist. You?”

“No siblings. But keeping this our secret? Agreed. Timeline?"

"Six months. That keeps us safely in the off-season. No travel, no playoffs. Just enough time to investigate, short enough to make a breakup believable if it comes to that.”

She nods. "And boundaries?"

I think of how she looked at me earlier, when anger brought us too close. "Whatever it takes to make it look real."

Something flashes in her eyes, but she looks away quickly. "Okay. When do we start?"

“My schedule’s clear now, but if we wait too long, it won’t be. My parents get back from Europe in a week—we start with them. If we can’t even confirm your condition through my side, we may not need to drag the Collins into this at all.”

“One whole week gives us time to get our act together,” she says.

“Exactly. We show up solid. United. No gaps in the story.”

And just like that, I’m engaged to someone all I know about is her birthday.