Chapter Ten
That’s a Terrible Idea, When Do We Start?
Chase
I wake up to the sound of a dog snoring directly in my face.
Rip, sprawled across my bed like he owns the place, exhales a long, dramatic sigh, his nose pressed against my shoulder.
I grunt, pushing him away, and scrub a hand over my face. Sunlight filters through the blinds, too bright and too early. I could use another hour of sleep, but the universe has other plans because my phone starts buzzing on my nightstand.
I groan, blindly reaching for it. Drew.
Nope. Not dealing with that yet.
I silence the call and roll onto my back, exhaling slowly as last night flashes through my mind. The bonfire. The drinks. The way Scarlett sat across from me, firelight dancing in her eyes, her lips curving around a smirk that had my stomach doing some real inconvenient shit.
I shake my head. Nope. Not going there.
Instead, I drag myself out of bed, throw on a T-shirt, and head downstairs, where Evie is already packing her things by the door.
“Hey,” she greets, zipping her bag. “Sorry I have to head out early.”
I nod, running a hand through my hair. “Did you sleep okay?”
She snorts. “Considering your dog snores? Yeah, not bad.”
Rip, now sitting obediently at her feet, wags his tail like the world’s most well-behaved pet.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” I mutter, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.
Evie just grins, then studies me with that way-too-knowing twin gaze that makes me instantly suspicious.
“What?” I ask, twisting the cap off my water.
She shrugs. “Nothing. Just... last night was fun.”
I take a sip, nodding. “Yeah.”
“You and Scarlett had a real interesting dynamic, though.”
I nearly choke. “It’s too early for this, Evie.”
She grins. “I’m just saying. For two people who claim to hate each other, there was a lot of eye contact.”
I scoff, setting my water down. “That’s because I was watching her try to control her rage. It was fascinating.”
“Uh-huh.” She slings her bag over her shoulder. “Whatever you say.”
I roll my eyes. “Drive safe, okay?”
She steps forward and squeezes my arm. “I mean it, Chase. She’s got walls, sure, but walls don’t go up without a reason. Sometimes, the people who push back the hardest are the ones who need someone to stick around.”
I stare at her, but she just pats my cheek and winks. “Love you, loser.”
“Love you too, nerd.”
She laughs, and then she’s gone, leaving me standing in my kitchen with way too many thoughts swirling in my head.
I exhale sharply, pick up my phone, and finally call Drew back.
He answers on the first ring. “There he is. Thought you’d died.”
I grab my keys and step outside, walking toward the beach. “Nah, just ignoring you.”
“Charming as ever. Listen, I won’t keep you long, but I’ve got an interesting proposition for you.”
I smirk. “If it’s about the book club thing, save it. Not happening.” Bennett already tried to sell me on the same thing…
“Not so fast. We got a call from a publisher today—with an interesting proposal.”
I frown. “What kind of proposal?”
A pause. “Bestselling author Scottie Calloway has agreed to co-host this thing with you.”
I stop in my tracks.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Rip, completely unaware of my inner turmoil, is taking the world’s longest pee in the sand.
“You heard me.”
“No, no. I must have misunderstood you. You’re telling me that the same Scottie Calloway—the one who’s made a career out of telling women they don’t need men—is voluntarily signing up for a romance book club?”
“That’s the one.”
I bark out a laugh. “And this makes sense how?”
“The Stampede’s PR team is playing up the ‘Enemies to Lovers’ angle.
Your on-screen bickering will draw an audience.
Whether she’s right or wrong, whether she’s read the right books, whether she’s just bitter.
It’ll create fan engagement, and at the end of the day, that’s what this is really about. ”
I shake my head, pacing along the shoreline. “You really think this is gonna work?”
Drew chuckles. “Oh, it’s already working. The internet is buzzing about you two. The ‘romance cynic versus the hockey player who probably writes girls’ numbers on napkins’ narrative? People love it.”
I scowl. “I do not write my number on napkins.”
I put them into my phone like a normal guy.
“Not the point.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw, my brain still trying to process this. Scarlett. Co-hosting. With me.
I shouldn’t be entertained by this. But damn it, I am.
“What do you say, Chase?” Drew asks, amusement clear in his voice. “You in?”
I look out at the lake, the water glinting under the morning sun. I think about Scarlett’s smirk last night, the way her pulse kicked up when I got too close, the way her glare burned hot enough to melt steel.
The thought of working with her? Professionally? I’m slightly horrified, slightly turned on.
This can’t be happening. Except, apparently, it is.
I grin. “Oh, I’m in.”