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TWELVE

lauren

I rush through the arena toward the seats where some of our sponsors are gathered when Rafael Marco, team owner, flags me down.

“Lauren, I need you to grab Tate and get a photo with one of our VIP sponsors. I think they want to talk with him about an animal shelter donation.”

That means the article I wrote as a press release is working. “He’s probably in the locker room. It’ll take me a minute.”

I take a back staircase down a private hallway that leads toward the locker room and run into Jaz, our community engagement coordinator.

“I’m on a mission to track down Tate for a sponsor op—have you seen him? ”

She shakes her head. “Tate’s a popular guy tonight.”

I tilt my head. “Really? Why?”

Jaz points over her shoulder. “Because your sister just arrived and was also looking for him.”

I frown. “ Olivia is here?” I vaguely remember Olivia asking me about it during our meeting. Jake wanted to bring the kids to see a playoff game, but I completely forgot they were coming tonight. “Did she say why she needs to talk to Tate?”

Jaz shrugs. “Maybe she just wants a picture? I pointed her to the rink.”

I hurry toward the ice, knowing I have to catch Tate before my sister gets to him. When I reach the rink, I nearly choke on my latte. Because my sister is chatting with none other than Tate Foster.

Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be an issue. But I may have slightly told my sister that I’m dating someone. And that someone is currently smiling at her, blissfully ignorant that he’s in a relationship he didn’t agree to.

With me.

I speed-walk across the arena, panic alarms blaring in my head. “Hey!” I blurt, inserting myself between them and staring at my sister. “What are you doing here so early?”

Olivia beams. “I just wanted to say hi. And lucky me, I got to meet him .”

I glance at Tate who gives a polite, but slightly confused smile.

“Oh! Right. Introductions,” I say. “Tate, this is my sister, Olivia. Olivia…Tate. Great, done.”

I grab her elbow like I’m redirecting a child away from the candy aisle. “Tate’s got a pre-game routine, very strict. Involves rituals and focus. We should really let him?—”

“I just wanted to talk to him for a second,” Olivia says sweetly.

“Sure! But did you know the concessions are serving bacon-wrapped corn dogs tonight? With mustard. Spicy mustard.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“You love a good corn dog,” I insist. “Go. Get. A. Corn dog. ”

“I’m fine. And why are you acting so weird?” Then she turns back to Tate with a smile. “Anyway, what I was saying?—”

“Olivia,” I say through my teeth, “now is not the time?—”

But she’s already committed. I can see it happening like a train wreck in slow motion.

“I just wanted to finally meet your?—”

Please say friend. Co-worker. Random acquaintance.

“—boyfriend.”

I freeze, my face glowing like a human bonfire, lighting up the whole arena.

Tate’s brows disappear into his hairline as he looks at me. “Boyfriend?”

I laugh. Or try to. “Funny story about that…”

Olivia cuts in before I can even explain. “Listen, I know what you told me. That it was just a few dates.” She looks between us, like she’s about to burst from excitement. “But I couldn’t miss an opportunity to meet the cute guy with the puppy.”

Then she has the audacity to actually wink at me .

Tate glances between us, clearly trying to decide if he’s walked into a PR stunt or a family drama.

“Well, what I meant when I told you about Tate was that…” I stop because I have no words. Not one. There is no world where I explain this well.

Tate looks at me, then back to Olivia. “I’m not technically her boyfriend.” He pauses as his look slides to mine. “ Yet.”

My face snaps to his. Yet ?

His eyes dance in that teasing way he seems to reserve only for me. “What she means is, we’re taking things slow. Really… really slow.” Then the corner of his mouth tips up. Oh, he is fully in on the joke now.

Olivia gasps and touches my arm. “Lauren. You didn’t tell me he had dimples.”

I shake my head firmly. “Liv, this isn’t the time…”

She ignores my death glare and continues, “You know, the family reunion is coming up next month. Just outside Sully’s Beach.”

My laugh is strained. “Yeah…no. Way too soon. Way too soon.”

Tate leans on the boards, looking as cool as a cucumber while my body generates enough heat to roast those corn dogs and fry the bacon, too.

“The reunion she claims to love because of how chaotic and loud everyone is?” he asks, that smirk growing, his dimples making another appearance.

Everything in me goes full-blown wildfire. He is completely enjoying how mortified I am right now.

My lips tighten as I glare at him. “I thought we were keeping things… private. ”

His grin deepens as he turns to my sister. “She’s a little shy about introducing me.”

“Well, you’d be more than welcome to join us,” Olivia says casually. “No pressure, of course.”

My glare intensifies as I cross my arms. “He can’t come.”

Tate leans on his stick, still looking far too amused. “Oh? Why not, Sunny?” The irony of that nickname is not lost on me.

“Because you’re busy, remember?” I say quickly. “You’re going to California to visit family.”

Tate’s expression shifts slightly. “Usually, I do, but not this year. My family made other plans. I might rent a cabin and work on a personal project, though. Other than that, I’m totally free.”

“You should come,” Olivia says, before turning to me innocently. “Oh, and don’t forget, you’ll need a partner for the Family Olympics.”

Tate tilts his head. “Olympics? What kind of events are we talking about?”

“Oh, the usual—water balloon tosses, canoe races, paintball,” Olivia says. “Lauren’s ex will be there competing with our cousin. They’re the team to beat this year.”

Tate studies me, his forehead creasing slightly .

“The whole situation is unfortunate,” Olivia says.

“And no partner?” Tate asks me, like he’s thinking something over. “I might know someone with excellent defensive skills.”

I give him a tight smile. “Sheriff, can I talk to you privately for a second?”

“Sure can,” he says.

We move over to the bench, far enough away that my sister can’t hear us.

“What’s the problem?” Tate asks innocently.

“You,” I say. “Currently, my number one problem. What are you doing leading my sister on, pretending like you’re coming to my reunion?”

He scoffs. “I wasn’t the one who told your sister we were dating. If anyone is leading your sister on”—he pauses—“it’s you .”

“Listen, I didn’t mean to get you involved. She saw our picture and jumped to conclusions. I may have even hinted that we had gone out. It seemed harmless at the time.”

Tate looks at me like he cannot grasp what I’m telling him.

I throw up my hands. “My ex is coming and I panicked, okay? I didn’t want to spend the entire reunion explaining why I’m still single.”

“Then don’t ,” he says simply.

“Tate,” I warn with a glare. “You can’t attend my family reunion. You wouldn’t last an hour with my relatives, let alone a week.”

He studies me for a second. “Is that a bet?”

I shake my head. “I’m just stating facts. And you’re someone who really likes facts.”

“That’s not a fact, Sunny.” He leans forward slightly.

“You know, if you did need a backup boyfriend, I wouldn’t be the worst option.

It’s a logical exchange—you’re saving my reputation with the league, I save yours with your family.

Mutually beneficial.” There’s something in the way he says it, not teasing or sarcastic, more like an offer between friends.

“I’ll think about it,” I say, putting him off. “The only thing I need from you is to take a picture with a VIP sponsor right now.”

He sighs. “Do I have to?”

I fold my arms. “Yes. And I expect full charm—dimples, eye contact, the whole package.”

“So you admit my dimples are effective,” he says, and I catch a hint of surprise in his voice before he recovers. “Good to know, Sunny.”