Page 2 of Fake Out Forever

Brilliant green eyes with flecks of gold.

And under that black winter down coat are lush, round curves.

“Maya Prescott,” I mumble.

“Cade?” She flinches. Cade Wylie? What are you doing here?”

“I’m shocked you remember my name.” I snip.

We met at a charity event three years ago. I was instantly drawn to her beauty, sense of humor, and killer body. It took me a while to get the courage to ask her out. When I did, she gave me a beautiful smile followed by a big, fat, “I don’t date hockey players.”

Later, I found out that she was the infamous Ice Princess, the granddaughter of the owner of the Frostwolves franchise. Evidently, hockey players were good enough to use to build up your bank account. But we aren’t good enough to date.

Message received.

A strong gust of wind blows her long curls across her face. She’s breathtaking. Her hair is dotted with snow, a bright pink flush to her cheeks.

I push that thought away, gather the memory of not being good enough for her, pour it into my gaze, and lock in on her gorgeous face. “Sheriff or insurance. Your call.”

2

MAYA

My heart is beating so hard I can’t think.

Of all the cars in the world to run into, I crash into Cade Wylie’s!

The man who’s been haunting my dreams for the past three years.

The world is against me.

“Sheriff or insurance card.” He looks me dead in the eye. “I don’t have all day.”

I stomp through the snow to the passenger’s side, open the door, and take the card out of the glovebox. “This is unnecessary. There’s no damage to your car.”

“How do you know? Do you have X-ray vision? Can you see what’s under the bumper? I’ll let you know that this is a brand-new luxury car under warranty. Therefore, I’m going to take it to my mechanic for a thorough check. You hit me pretty hard.” He snarls. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” I humph. “You?”

“No.” He points at my BMW. “You don’t have snow tires on that thing.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, Mr. Wylie, but I’ve lived in Colorado my entire life, and I’ve never put snow tires on my car.”

“Explain this,” he waves his hand at where our bumpers are connected. “Look, I don’t know where you’re going, but with that lead foot of yours, you’d better get off the road. There’s another storm coming right after this one. Besides woman, seeing the way you drive, you’re either going to kill someone or kill yourself.”

“Woman? You have some nerve. It’s the twenty-first century, Mr. Wylie. Women are just as capable as men.” I snatch my card out of his hand. “Now, if you’re done demeaning me and getting gas for your brand-new toy, I would appreciate it if you would move so that I can fill my tank. I have to be in Denver by seven o’clock tonight for an annual family Christmas party.”

“Denver?” His brows snap down tight. “You’ll never make it.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

Cade’s cheeks flash bright red. His nostrils flare. And his jaw starts to twitch. “No, Ms. Prescott.” His deep blue eyes turn to ice. “Here’s a newsflash for you, take a good look around.” His arm sweeps through the air. “It’s a raging goddamn snowstorm, and you don’t have snow tires on your pretty little ride.”

“Don’t use that tone with me.” I flinch.

He steps forward. “Is it the tone that bothers you, Ms. Prescott? Or the fact that a lowly little hockey player has the audacity to tell the Ice Princess the truth.”

Infuriated and horrified that he dared to call me Ice Princess to my face, I snap back. “Unlike you, Mr. Wylie, I don’t judge people.”

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