Page 12 of You’re The One (Saints Hockey #2)

TWELVE

The little she-devil set me up.

Not only did Mia pair me with Ashley—who is perfectly nice, just not someone I have even the slightest spark with—but the producers decided to double down on Ashley’s interests. Which, apparently, includes… whatever the hell this is.

To be fair, there are things I’m into on this date, mainly the promise of funnel cake.

The date is part of a carnival setup on the beach, complete with fair games, copious fried food, and a guy on stilts.

The way he manages to stay upright in the sand is impressive.

And the lengths the show went to for this?

Also impressive. But right now, we’re tucked inside a velvet-draped tent across from a woman named Esmerelda.

That can’t be her real name. Can it?

She just wrapped up Ashley’s reading, something about soul connections and living happily ever after. Naturally.

Now it’s my turn, and I’d just like to get it over with. It’s hot as balls in here, and all I really want is funnel cake. I already know where this is going: I’m the missing piece. The key to her future. Meant to be. Blah blah blah.

Normally, I’m hopelessly optimistic. I believe in love at first sight and all that. But this whole card reading and talk of fate? It’s a step too far, even for me.

I wonder if the producers fed Esmerelda a script or just let her wing it. Either way, this isn’t making a believer out of me.

“What’s your name, dear?” She turns toward me.

“I’d rather not say,” I reply, folding my arms across my chest. No way I’m giving her anything to work with.

She lets out a deep, throaty laugh and shares a conspiratorial look with Ashley. “Ah, a skeptic.”

Ashley squeezes my hand, threading her fingers through mine like she’s trying to soothe me. I appreciate the gesture, even though it’s not needed.

“Let’s try the tarot cards.” Esmerelda reaches for the deck. “You strike me as someone who needs a little control.”

Lucky guess.

She fans the deck out dramatically between us, the cards worn and slightly warped, like they’ve been through a few too many beachside predictions.

“Go ahead. Pick three.”

Ashley gives me an encouraging smile like this is all totally normal. I sigh and choose three cards at random. Because sure. Why not.

Esmerelda flips the first one.

“Oh. The Lovers.”

Of course it’s The Lovers. I bite back a comment and let her continue.

“This card is about relationships, but it’s also about choice. You’re at a crossroads, aren’t you?”

I’m not sure I’m at a crossroads so much as I’m at a dead end. My silence must say enough. She hums knowingly and flips the next card.

There’s a moon on this one.

“Ah. Uncertainty. Things left in the shadows. This one always shows up when someone isn’t being fully honest. There’s a pull here, too, but it’s murkier. More complicated.” Her gaze lifts, meeting mine. “It can also mean you’re ignoring your intuition.”

Real original. Everyone has uncertainty in their life. Life itself is uncertain.

Ashley squeezes my hand, and I force myself to look back as the final card is revealed.

“Change is coming,” Esmerelda says. “Whether or not you’re ready for it.”

My jaw ticks. I don’t know how a card with a crumbling tower on it tells her that, but sure. Love, uncertainty, change. It’s basically the plot of every season of this show.

“Well, thanks.” I stand and offer Ashley a hand.

“Wow,” she breathes. “That was cool, right? What do you think it means?”

“Sure.” I force a smile. “Let’s go find that funnel cake.”

I’m no more informed about my future, but one thing’s clear: Mia’s fucking with me, and she’s getting an earful as soon as I drop Ashley off.

I find her in the kitchen, leading what looks like an impromptu cooking class.

“What’re you making?” slips out before I can stop it.

“Pasta,” Mia replies flatly, barely looking up.

“You can make pasta?”

“Aren’t you Italian? Shouldn’t you know all about making pasta…”

“My mom’s Italian, but…” I trail off. “I was talking about you .”

Summer bounces over to me. “Did you know you had a little chef on your hands? We also made a sourdough starter.” She lifts a glass jar of lumpy, off-white goo like it’s a trophy.

“Nice,” I offer, then shift closer to Mia, leaning against the counter beside her. “I didn’t know you liked cooking.”

She shrugs. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Which is true enough. It’s not like she’s ever really talked to me.

“How was your date?” Victoria comes over to stand on my other side.

Ashley launches into a recap of the beach carnival and the fortune teller. Mia’s lips twitch the whole time, clearly fighting back laughter.

“Hey, Mia, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” she says, but continues what she’s doing.

“Alone.”

She finally dusts her hands off, flour floating in the air, and follows me out to the pool patio.

I lead us over to the waterfall feature, counting on the rush of water to mask our voices from any stray mics. She doesn’t seem to be wearing one, but I’m not about to risk another kick to the shin.

“Good date?” She smirks, the glow from the pool lights catching in her hair.

“Oh, fantastic,” I deadpan. “A fortune teller correctly predicted you’d be a pain in my ass.”

She doesn’t hold back her laughter this time. “I wish I could’ve seen your face.”

“Well, good news.” I drag a hand down my face. “You and the rest of America can catch it on TV in about ten weeks.”

She snickers again, unfazed by my glare.

“Come on, it was a little funny,” she tries to play it off. When I don’t answer, her expression sobers slightly. “You’re not really mad, are you?”

“I’m… disappointed?—”

“Oh, God,” she groans. “You sound like my father. Are you going to put me in a time out? Send me home?”

I hadn’t even considered it until now. And let’s be real, it’s still not an option. Though she doesn’t know that. I bite back a smile, blowing out a slow breath as I tip my head back, then step in closer. She has to tilt her chin up to meet my eyes.

“I don’t know.” I narrow my gaze. “Are you going to keep screwing with me?”

“No?” It comes out as a question instead of an answer, her expression just shy of innocent.

Her big blue eyes stay locked on mine. I hadn’t known eyes could be that light until I met her. I’ve never been good at holding a grudge, and even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could with her looking at me like that.

I break our contact first, glancing toward the other girls who duck back from the windows when I look their way. “Just… Can you try to be helpful moving forward?”

She nods once. “I’ll try.”

The next night, at the rose ceremony I send six women home. To absolutely no one’s surprise, Mia isn’t one of them.