Page 22

22

Piper

I’m trying really hard not to brood over the way last night ended—Jake getting a text, his entire mood flipping, him hustling me straight home without a single explanation. But it’s creeping into my thoughts anyway, fueling irrational insecurity.

Maybe he got a better offer. Like some booty call from a busty fan or an ex-girlfriend. The idea makes my stomach twist in a way I hate.

I scowl at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, dabbing on a dab of tinted moisturizer. “You’re being ridiculous,” I mutter to myself.

But the uncertainty nags at me. If this entire relationship is fake, what’s to stop him from hooking up with someone else? Maybe he’s just that kind of guy. No, I remind myself, he might be cocky, but you haven’t seen him act like a cheater.

Then again, I don’t know him all that well, do I?

***

By the time I arrive at the festival grounds the next afternoon, my head’s buzzing with conflicting thoughts. Today is a three-on-three tournament—some local hockey charity event. Jake invited me to watch, said he’d pick me up, so I forced a bright smile and hopped in his truck. He greeted me with a quick, searing kiss that knocked the breath out of me, then drove us to the rink in contented silence.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he’d murmured, his lips brushing mine once more before he pulled back, eyes gleaming. “Miss me?”

I scoffed, willing my pulse to slow. “We saw each other last night.”

He smirks, shifting the truck into gear. “Yeah? Felt longer.”

Heat flared in my cheeks. “It… it wasn’t.”

Then he’d briefly squeezed my knee before returning to the wheel. I turned toward the window, pretending I wasn’t flustered, and the rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence.

Now, as we step out into the open air, the makeshift rink is set up on a grassy field, boards around it, bleachers on one side. The scent of fried food lingers in the breeze, mixing with the crisp bite of the ice shavings from the temporary rink. Small-town families mill about, cheering as local players—some semi-pro, some weekend warriors—compete in shorter, faster games.

Jake stretches his arms overhead, rolling his shoulders loose. “Feels good out here.”

“Yeah,” I say, scanning the crowd. “Nice turnout.”

He glances at me, amused. “You looking for someone?”

“Nope.” My voice is too quick, and his smirk deepens.

“You sure?” He steps closer, his hand pressing lightly against the small of my back. “Because if you’re worried about last night, you could just ask.”

I tense, but before I can fire back, a stray puck slaps against the boards near us. A group of kids skates by, laughing, and Jake chuckles, tilting his head toward the ice.

“C’mon, Piper. Let’s enjoy the show.”

I clear my throat, feigning nonchalance. “So, you said Annie’s got Violet?”

Jake nods. “Yeah, Dad was busy, so Annie volunteered to watch her.” He shrugs lightly. “She’s not much of a hockey fan yet, and Annie wanted some Vi time.”

"Nice."

"Sean and Aubrey had her last night, but Violet spiked a fever and they texted me just before we left the dance. I didn’t want to say anything then and worry you.”

He says it like it’s nothing. “She’s fine now. Just one of those kid things. But I had to get to her fast.”

My stomach twists. God, I feel like an idiot. Here I was spiraling about ex-girlfriends and secret hookups, and he was just being a dad. A good one. One who didn’t want to wreck the mood. I'm speechless.

He glances over. The way his eyes flick over me—like he’s focusing just as much on me as on any game—puts a knot of heat low in my belly.

We’re supposed to be faking it, I remind myself, but everything about his gaze feels real.

I lift my phone and snap a few shots of him in his hockey gear—shoulder pads, shin guards, the works—while he’s tying skates beside the bench. “For your social media,” I tell him, trying to sound breezy. “Ready to wow the crowd?”

He tosses me a quick smirk. “I’ll do my best.”

He heads off to warm up, and I wander toward the bleachers, still snapping photos and short video clips for his accounts. I know that’s part of our deal—I’m supposedly boosting his public image for better sponsorship or an NHL call-up. Meanwhile, I get the inside scoop for my blog. But honestly, the more time I spend with him, the less I remember it’s supposed to be purely transactional.

“Piper!” Emma’s voice draws my attention. She’s waving from a nearby set of bleachers, Maddie and Sadie by her side.

Great. Sadie. My mood dips, but I plaster a smile on my face and join them. Sadie eyes me in that smug way of hers, like she’s waiting for me to slip up. I ignore her, letting Emma gush about Jake’s performance in the last game.

“Are you excited?” Emma asks, bouncing a little. “Jake’s been bragging that he’s gonna score a hat trick just for you.”

I laugh uncertainly. “That so?”

Maddie nudges me. “We’ll see. But I bet your pictures turn out great. You’ve got an eye for pictures.”

Sadie snorts. “And a flair for dramatics.”

I swallow a retort. The last thing I need is to let Sadie get under my skin in public. Instead, I spot Jake skating to the bench between warmup drills. He catches my eye, jerks his chin— Come here. A ripple of excitement threads through me. I’m pathetic.

“Back in a sec,” I murmur, sliding away from the bleachers.

I circle down to the boards. Jake leans over, still in half gear, sweat glistening on his forehead. Without warning, he grips the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss, right there in front of everyone. I can practically feel cell-phone cameras snapping away.

He breaks the kiss slowly, his eyes gleaming. “Miss me?”

I sputter, cheeks aflame. “You’re ridiculous.”

He just chuckles. “I’ll show you ridiculous when I’m done here.” Then he lowers his voice, lips hovering near my ear. “So how wet are you right now, sweetheart?”

My eyes widen. He did not just say that. Heat floods every cell of my body. I’m half horrified, half…yeah, turned on. I shove at his chest with zero effect.

“You can’t—”

He smirks, letting me go. “Watch me.”

He skates off, leaving me reeling. My heart is pounding, my mind a wreck. This is what I asked for, right? Believable physical affection to sell the fake relationship. So why do I feel like I’m drowning in something far more potent?

I retreat to a corner, fanning myself discreetly. Rand, one of Jake’s old hockey buddies, ambles over, trying to look cool and failing. He’s not bad-looking, but he tries too hard—always making awkward or borderline gross comments. He gives me a once-over, grinning.

“Wow, Piper, you, uh…look great holding that camera.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Ever think about doing, like, modeling photos? I could help.”

I force a polite smile. “I’m good, Rand. Thanks.”

He shrugs, clearly not picking up on my disinterest. “I’m just sayin’, you got that vibe. Wouldn’t mind—”

“Rand,” I cut in, arching a brow. “I know you’re trying to be nice, but maybe tone it down?”

He flushes. “Oh. Right. Just thought I’d…never mind.” He moves off, muttering something about hooking up another time. It’s not overtly sexist—he’s just awkward. But my tolerance for awkward men is at rock-bottom.

From across the ice, Jake’s gaze lands on me, and I see the flicker of curiosity—maybe even approval—that I’m not letting Rand walk all over me. At least he’s not offended by me being mouthy. That alone is unnerving. Part of me expects men to bolt when I show my real, less-than-placid side. But Jake…he seems drawn to it.

The buzzer sounds, and Jake takes the ice like he owns it. He’s a commanding force—sharp turns, quick stops, lethal shots. My camera captures every move, but my eyes keep straying from the lens. Every goal, every glance he throws my way, sends a pulse of heat through me.

By the first break, he’s scored twice, enough to draw cheers from the crowd. He skates straight for me, his smirk cocky. I brace for something playful, but instead, he wraps a hand around my waist and crashes his mouth onto mine.

A few fans whistle, but all I can hear is the rush of my own pulse.

When he finally pulls back, he leans in, murmuring, “Your body knows where it belongs, Piper.”

My breath hitches. He grins at my dazed expression and skates off.

“Holy crap,” Maddie breathes behind me. “You two are on fire today.”

I rub at my heated cheeks. “Don’t start.”

“Bathroom break?”

“Yeah, please.”

The trailer bathroom is stuffy, the air thick with cheap soap and too many sweaty hockey fans. Maddie folds her arms as I lean against the sink.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re practically floating every time he kisses you?”

I glare. “I’m not floating. It’s an act.”

“Uh-huh.” She cocks a brow. “Well, I’m convinced. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you two were in love.”

My stomach knots. “No judgment, right?”

She shrugs. “None. It’s just nice to see you… happy, I guess.”

Before I can respond, a redheaded woman enters, glancing around like she’s expecting someone. She steps to the sink beside me, turns on the water, and meets my gaze in the mirror.

“Did I see you with Jake Ice earlier?” she asks, voice casual but her stare too sharp.

I stiffen. “Yeah. He’s… my boyfriend.” The word tastes awkward.

Something flashes in her expression—anger, maybe, but she masks it with a forced smile. “Good for you. He’s… interesting. Be careful with that one.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

She starts to answer, but a group of teens bursts in, crowding the space. The redhead slips away in the chaos.

I turn to Maddie, every nerve buzzing. “Did you see that?”

She presses her lips together. “Who was she?”

“No idea.”

But my mind is already racing. What does she know about Jake? Could there be a scandal? A secret waiting to be exposed? If so, my blog could break the story first. I feel a pang of guilt, but it doesn’t outweigh the thrill of the chase.

We return to the rink, and Jake’s team is already in the second round. He’s locked in—focused, fast, dominant. Every time he spots me, his mouth quirks, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

He scores again, and the final buzzer sounds. I cheer, my chest tight. When he skates over, he doesn’t hesitate—just cups my face and kisses me like he means it.

Salt, sweat, and victory flood my senses.

“God,” I murmur when we break apart. “You really like to show off.”

He smirks, arm still locked around my waist. “Just making sure the cameras get what they came for.” His gaze flicks to Sadie, who’s watching with a knowing smirk. “All about appearances, right?”

The reminder stings more than it should. But then he brushes his lips against my ear.

“You taste even better when you’re pissed,” he whispers.

Arrogant jerk. My pulse spikes anyway.

Jake heads off, and I turn back to Emma and Maddie, both gushing about his performance. Sadie lingers, watching me like she knows something I don’t. Rand tries to start another awkward conversation, but I shut him down with a single look.

Conflicting emotions tangle in my chest. I want Jake. Every time he touches me, I melt. But I also want control—my career, my independence. And now, thanks to that redhead, I might have the biggest story of my career.

Would I betray him for it?

The question makes my stomach twist. If I dig too deep and find something real, this fake relationship will implode. And if it’s nothing? I’ve wasted time trying to find a reason not to fall for him.

“You look like you’re about to cry or scream,” Maddie murmurs. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just overheated.”

She doesn’t believe me, but she lets it slide.

Jake’s team wins the mini-tournament, and I snap pictures of him grinning with a small trophy. He gestures for me to come closer. I do, heart pounding.

He kisses me again, deep and slow, his hand pressing against my lower back.

The crowd cheers.

The day winds down, and we load into his truck. Silence stretches between us as he drives me back to the Airbnb, thick with unspoken things.

“You alright?” he finally asks.

I force a nod. “Just tired.”

Jake studies me, then reaches over, brushing his knuckles over my cheek. The tenderness makes my breath catch. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

He leans in, kissing me one last time. It’s softer than before. Less for show, more for… something else.

Then he pulls away, something unreadable in his eyes before he masks it. “Night, Piper.”

I watch him drive off, my mind spinning.

Inside, I toss my bag aside and check my phone. Social media is already flooded with photos of us. Fans calling us the cutest couple at the festival. I let myself smile, just for a second.

Then I see my half-finished blog post. Promotional fluff about Jake’s performance, a few sharp Penelope Darling barbs. And that’s before I even start looking into the redheaded stranger’s cryptic warning.

I shiver, remembering how my heart fluttered with every kiss today. How I glowed every time he whispered something filthy. I’m falling for him— that’s undeniable. But I can’t just trust him blindly.

If Jake has skeletons, I need to find them.

Even if it means wrecking whatever fragile, confusing thing we’ve started building.

I close my laptop and lie back, staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow. I’ll deal with it all tomorrow.