Page 5 of Fake Out Forever

As much as I hate to admit it, he’s saved me from turning into a human popsicle. But he’s still a hockey player, and I need to remember that.

The vibration of my phone startles me from my thoughts. I take the phone out of my pocket, praying that it’s AAA, saying they’re on the way to tow my car. I want to spend as little time as possible with Cade Wylie. However, the minute I start to read the message, my heart sinks.

“Due to the severe weather, we are unable to give you a timeframe for when we will be able to provide you with roadside service. We apologize for this inconvenience. Immediately dial 911 if you are in an unsafe situation.”

“Great,” I grumble.

“Let me guess. Your tow isn’t on the way.” Cade snarls.

“Don’t be such a toddler.”

“Me? A toddler?” He tosses his head back and laughs. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“I am not a child.” I grit my teeth.

“Right.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay. Whatever you say,” he chuckles. “But I’m not the one who’s soaking wet and standing outside in a raging blizzard refusing to get in the car. That was you.”

“There’s something wrong with you.” I huff.

“Right back at you, duchess.”

I scowl at his profile, trying to think of something clever to say. When nothing comes to mind, I turn to face the dashboard. Wow, this snow isn’t stopping. It’s coming down fast and furious.

He makes a right-hand turn onto a narrow road packed with snow. We climb higher and higher until we enter a clearing. Up ahead isn’t a cabin. It’s a massive A-frame house with a full glass front and an oversized two-car garage surrounded by pine trees.

It’s amazing.

“This is your cabin?”

“Not good enough for you?” he snaps as hits the garage door opener.

“For your information, that’s not what I’m thinking at all. It’s beautiful, but it looks more like a ski chalet than a cabin.”

“Whatever.” He gets out of the car and starts taking out bags.

“Can I help?”

“No,” he barks. Just go inside. Take off that wet coat. I’ll start a fire as soon as I put the groceries away. Go upstairs. The third door on the right is where you’ll find some clothes you can change into.”

The nerve of this man. “First of all, stop ordering me around. And second, do you really think I’m going to wear your girlfriend’s clothes?” I follow him into the house.

“No.” He hoists fistfuls of grocery bags onto the granite countertop. “Sorry to disappoint you, Ms. Prescott, but the clothes belong to my cousin, Sofie. She used to come out here a few times a year to get away from the city. But she got married a little over a year ago and is now traveling Europe with her husband. She told me to donate her stuff. I just never got around to it.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You calling me a liar again?”

“Well…” I looked around the gorgeous space. “You keep calling me Ms. Prescott.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

I lean against the counter and let out a long, hard exhale. “I don’t know. Can you please call me Maya?”

“Alright, duchess.”

---