Chapter One #3
The crowd erupted.
Tyler stared at the card. “That is not the right envelope.”
“You think?”
“I put Emmett in the red one.”
Piper turned slowly.
“How many envelopes have Emmett’s name?”
“Technically?”
“Tyler.”
“Two.”
Griffin snatched the remaining envelope, opened it, and held up another card.
BECKETT MONROE
Beckett gasped. “We have been robbed of art.”
Piper looked at the card in her hand.
“Fix it.”
Tyler glanced at the live comments.
The name Emmett flooded the screen so quickly that little else remained visible.
“Correction may be difficult.”
“Words are free.”
“Not all words.”
“Try these. There was a mistake.”
The crowd had taken up a new chant.
“COO-PER. COO-PER. COO-PER.”
Piper’s pulse hammered.
This could still stop.
Emmett was not here. He hated cameras. He disliked public attention, public games, and probably public joy.
He would refuse.
Cleanly.
Immediately.
Possibly with one expression that made every person involved reconsider their decisions.
Piper had never been happier to depend on a man’s emotional unavailability.
A shadow fell across the stage.
The chanting changed.
Not louder.
Sharper.
Piper turned.
Emmett Novak stood at the top of the dock steps wearing black athletic shorts and a dark Ridgeview practice shirt damp from training. A duffel bag hung from one shoulder. His dark hair was messy, his face unreadable, and his eyes were fixed on the card in her hand.
The crowd parted for him.
Of course they did.
Goalies carried themselves like they expected incoming traffic.
Emmett walked onto the stage.
He looked at Tyler.
“Explain.”
Tyler swallowed. “Community engagement.”
Emmett looked at Griffin.
“Failure of supervision.”
“Correct,” Griffin said.
Then Emmett looked at Piper.
She lifted the card.
“This was supposed to say Beckett.”
“Cruel.”
Beckett nodded solemnly. “Thank you.”
Piper ignored him.
“The envelope was wrong. Tyler made a mistake. We are correcting it.”
Emmett’s gaze moved to the giant screen.
The title remained there.
THE WRONG GUY BET
His eyes returned to Piper.
“You said I dislike you.”
Heat rushed into her face.
“That part was taken out of context.”
“It was thirty seconds ago.”
“Fast context.”
A faint shift touched the corner of his mouth.
Not a smile.
Emmett did not waste those publicly.
Tyler raised the microphone between them.
“Emmett, the deal is thirty days, six public dates, and five thousand dollars for the scholarship fund if Piper completes the arrangement without falling for you.”
Emmett looked at Tyler.
“Why would she fall for me?”
The question should not have stung.
It did.
Piper folded her arms. “Excellent. We agree.”
His gaze returned to her face.
“That is not what I said.”
“It sounded close.”
“Piper chose Beckett because he is safe,” Tyler announced.
Piper closed her eyes.
“I did not say safe.”
“You said he would not confuse it with reality.”
Emmett’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
Piper saw it anyway.
“So,” Emmett said, “she picked the man she could not want.”
Beckett looked delighted. “That is much sexier than what she said.”
“Please stop helping,” Piper told him.
Emmett stepped closer.
Not enough to touch.
Enough that she caught the clean scent of soap, lake water, and something warm that had no business being noticeable during public crisis.
His voice lowered.
“Why am I the wrong guy?”
Piper looked up at him.
Because he was too private.
Because he noticed too much.
Because he rarely touched anyone, but when he did, it was careful and certain.
Because twice this summer she had looked across a crowded event and found him already watching her.
Because he made silence feel less like absence and more like attention.
Obviously, she said none of that.
“You hate cameras.”
“Yes.”
“You hate fake things.”
“Yes.”
“You barely tolerate me.”
His eyes held hers.
“That one is inaccurate.”
Piper forgot the crowd.
Just for a second.
Then Tyler pushed the microphone closer.
“Is that a yes?”
Emmett did not look away from her.
Piper knew what he saw.
The bright smile. The perfect posture. The woman who had agreed to turn another piece of her life into an event because controlling the frame felt safer than letting anyone else tell the story.
His gaze dropped briefly to her clenched hand.
When he looked back up, something in his expression had softened.
Not pity.
Thank God.
Emmett took the microphone from Tyler.
The audience quieted.
Piper’s pulse climbed.
He could end this.
He should end this.
Instead, Emmett set his duffel bag on the stage, stepped beside her, and slid one arm around her waist.
The contact was warm, firm, and far too natural.
Piper inhaled sharply.
His hand settled against her side as if it knew where it belonged.
Every phone on the lawn lifted.
Emmett looked directly into the livestream camera.
“You heard them,” he said calmly. “I’m the boyfriend.”
The crowd exploded.
Piper turned her head toward him.
“What are you doing?”
His eyes met hers.
For the first time all summer, Emmett Novak smiled.
It was slow.
Private.
Dangerous.
“Thirty days?” he said. “You won’t last ten.”