Chapter 22
There’s a tap on my shoulder, and when I turn my head, there’s Chase in all his glory. Broad shoulders buttoned into a stylish blue dress shirt, thick hair that gleams in the soft Ritz-Carlton lighting, and eyes like the ocean in a travel brochure. “Not a chance,” he says, blue eyes flashing.
“A chance of…?”
“Forgetting about you the second I left town,” he says. “Too much collateral damage. Besides, I got your pizza order right, didn’t I?”
I blink down at the slice in my hand. “That’s right. Thank you for this. And I’m glad to hear there’s not some other Zoe who’s going to punch me for eating her pizza.”
The corners of his mouth quirk. “No, that’s for you. It’s a thank-you for the diagnosis.” He takes a sip of his beer, his handsome face thoughtful. “I apologize for calling it a stupid idea.”
Wow. Is there anything more attractive than a man who’s willing to say he was wrong? “Thank you,” I say quietly. “That means a lot to me. Can you tell if it made a difference? The treatment, I mean. Are you in any pain?”
“I heard you screamed like a little girl,” Darcy pipes up.
Chase gives her a wry smile. “Nonsense. I screamed like a grown woman, at least.” He turns back to me. “Yeah, I think it will make a big difference. It’s hard to describe, but when they made their adjustment, I felt immediate relief.”
“That’s… wow,” I say awkwardly. But I suddenly feel about three inches taller.
“Merritt!” Our conversation is interrupted by Aiden Sharp, who slings a muscular arm around Chase’s shoulder. “How’s your pelvis?”
“Great. And yours?”
Aiden snickers. “I gotta wonder why you didn’t notice the problem sooner. Like—wasn’t your aim at the urinal off?”
I hear chuckles from all around us. O’Connell chimes in. “Yeah, and when you popped a woody, wasn’t it always at, like, five minutes past midnight?” He holds up a hand at an angle, and Darcy puts her face in her hands and giggles.
But Chase is blank-faced, like he’s been hearing this all night. He sips his beer, and even his wrists are hot. It’s just not fair.
“Look!” someone calls. “It’s the woman of the hour!” Steve Sailor worms his way into our circle. “Zoe! Want to see the latest news story from your coaching session with Chase?”
I brace myself. “At this point I’m afraid to ask.”
“Check it out! Top article in sports at The Times!” He gives me an oily smile as he hands me a tablet.
The first thing I see on the screen is a photo of me and Chase in the midst of a drill.
At least it’s a good shot. The photographer has captured us in sync, our body angles almost perfectly aligned.
And neither of us is making a constipated face. Small mercies.
There’s another photo, though—a still frame from that long-ago video. Chase and I are holding an arabesque, each with one arm outstretched, our opposite hands clasped together like lovers.
The headline is “Cutting-Edge Skater Grows Up to School the Hockey Bros.”
I hand it back. “Hello, clichés. But this is what you wanted, right? Something cheery to gobble up the search results.”
“It’s fantastic,” he agrees. “Chase is turning a corner. There’s a lot less chatter about the punch.”
“It wasn’t a punch,” I say irritably.
He shrugs. “Tomato, to-mah-to. My phone is ringing like a Vegas slot machine. And everyone wants to see more of the cute girl in the ‘Wicked Game’ video.”
Oh, please. “I’m glad that video is making your life easier this week. But I’m not here to be a sideshow. I’m here to coach some hockey.”
Sailor just grins. “Being part of the team, Zoe, means doing whatever the team needs most.” He gives me a head-to-toe eye sweep, the way you’d size up a side of beef. “Good work this week. First rate.” Then he slithers away again.
“I hate that man,” Chase murmurs into his beer.
“You know, I’d say it’s mutual,” Darcy muses. “But he likes you a lot more now that you’re internet famous for skating with Zoe. The man hasn’t had this much attention since you and Tremaine both got hat tricks in the same weekend.”
“Those were the days.” Chase takes a sip of his beer.
“Listen,” I say, touching the sleeve of his suit jacket. The fabric is like butter. “I just want you to know that I didn’t put that video on the internet. I’d never even seen it before.”
His eyebrows lift. “I have.”
“Wait, really?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “When?”
His shrug is nonchalant. “Bess always vets her players. She likes to say, ‘Where’s the best place to hide a dead body?’”
“This conversation took a turn,” Aiden mutters.
“On the fourth page of the Google search results,” Chase says. “Bess found it and showed it to me because she thought it was a hoot. It’s been up there for years.”
“Oh.” It’s wild to think that the video was just out there in the ether. It’s a good thing I didn’t know, or I probably would have done something dumb, like watch it on repeat. I have goose bumps now, but maybe it’s because I’m standing so close to Chase.
“I’m curious about something,” Aiden says, oblivious to my discomfort. Then he points between me and Chase. “How long have you two known each other, anyway? You look like quite the couple in that video.”
Chase takes another sip of beer. “It was just one performance at a summer camp. Zoe doesn’t even like pairs skating. She thinks it’s for losers. Isn’t that right, Zoe?”
My stomach drops. That sounds like something I might have said when I was young and foolish. But I don’t know why he’d remember that.
Then, before I can think of how to answer, Chase sets his empty glass down on the bar. “Now if you all will excuse me, there’s something I need to do.” He slides past Aiden Sharp and leaves the bar.
“Huh,” Aiden says. “Merritt is always grumpy lately. I try not to take it personally.”
“Me either,” I agree, even though my galloping heart says otherwise. I pick up my margarita and take a deep gulp. “He’s right, anyway. We don’t know each other well.” Not anymore. “Ten years ago we both worked at the same skating camp. But I hadn’t seen him since.”
“Weird.” Aiden looks disappointed. “That video makes the story seem more interesting.”
“So does professional wrestling,” Darcy points out. “You can’t believe everything you see on the internet, Aiden.”
“I guess not.” He gives her a wink. “Next you’ll try to tell me that those seven-minute ab workout apps aren’t really magic.”
Weber comes bounding over then, and I brace myself for even more questions about my video with Chase. “Yo, Darcy?” he says instead. “My room key doesn’t work! Did you give me the wrong one?”
She stares into her cocktail with a sigh. “Oh, rookie. Did you try switching it off, counting to ten, and then switching it back on again?”
He holds the card up to his face and squints at it.
Darcy cackles. Then she downs the rest of her cocktail. “You are just the cutest, Weber,” she says, hooking her arm through his and handing me her empty glass. “Let’s go get you sorted out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says as they go off together.
“Darcy is our queen,” Aiden says, sliding onto her vacant barstool. “That makes you our new princess.”
“Oh, please. Keep the tiara.”
He gives me a handsome smile. “Chin up, Zoe. I heard you had a big win today. Chase may be healed.”
“We’ll see,” I say, trying for modesty. But tomorrow night I’ll be on the edge of my eighth-row seat. If he gets his groove back, I’ll be the first to celebrate.
“We should have a drink sometime. Just the two of us,” Aiden says suddenly.
“Like… a date?”
He looks heavenward. “Who knew I’d lose my touch so young? I’m not even thirty.”
“Sorry.” I laugh. “I’ve had a long day with ButterScorch.”
He winces. “Did anyone warn you not to sit close enough to hear them argue?”
“No, in fact.” I give him a little shoulder bump. “That would have been useful.”
He grins. “Sorry. If you go out for drinks with me, I’ll tell you all the gossip.”
“I like gossip,” I say, keeping my friendly smile in place. “But I couldn’t do that. If I date anyone at work, nobody will ever take me seriously.”
He looks incredulous. “What difference would it make?”
“Plenty. It’s different for women. You’ll have to trust me on this. Besides, I’m not dating at all right now—coworkers or not. Getting divorced will do that to a girl.”
His expression softens. “I’m sorry to hear that. Sounds lonely.”
“No, I like it,” I insist. “It’s healthy.” I drain the last of my margarita. “Want to help me finish this pizza?”
“Sure,” he says. “It’s already cheat day.”
We each take a slice. “Cheers.”
A half hour later I head to room 404, where Darcy is waiting in a cute pair of flannel pajamas with bunnies all over them. “I just made an appointment for our pedicures.”
“Perfect.” I locate my suitcase beside the untouched bed. “Thank you for bringing this upstairs. I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years.”
“Same. I saw you talking to Aiden, so I didn’t come back to the bar. Looked like he was turning on the charm.”
“He asked me out for drinks,” I admit, flopping onto the bed. “I said no. Not that he isn’t cute.”
“But you can’t date a guy in the organization,” she says. “You’d never get a permanent contract.”
“Right?” I sit up again. “That’s just how it works. You’re either a serious person or you’re a sexual being who’s there to pick up a man. You can’t be both at once. He didn’t believe me.”
“He wouldn’t.” She shrugs. “Men don’t understand, even the nice ones. They’re used to getting the benefit of the doubt.”
“Every damn time.” But it’s depressing to think about, and if I don’t get ready for bed, I’ll probably pass out in my jeans right here on the Ritz’s million-thread-count duvet.
I unzip the suitcase to root around for my nightgown. But my hand finds a folded piece of notebook paper just inside.
Oh shit. A chill climbs up my spine as I unfold it to read a scrawled message: You’re not as cute as you think, bitch.
“Not again,” I whisper, my hands shaking slightly.
Darcy looks up from her phone. “What’s wrong?”