Page 40 of Faking the Shot

How was he going to get through tonight? The rest of this year? The next three months? What was it that Chris had said? That’s right. He needed to pray.

Lord, help me treat her as a friend. Just a friend. Help me not notice her smile, or her perfume, or her laugh. Help me be the person she needs me to be.

“Ainsley!” A TV reporter drew them to one side. “Ainsley, you’re here with Zac Parotti. You two are certainly looking cozy. So, the rumors around you two?”

Zac kept his expression neutral, waiting to follow Ainsley’s lead.

She smiled. Clutched Zac’s arm. He moved his hand to her back to steady her. “We’re glad to be here tonight to help raise money for the Aquarium.”

“Zac, I suppose you should be supporting whales, seeing you’re a fan of orcas.”

A reference to Vancouver’s logo emblazoned across their jerseys. “I’m a huge fan, actually.”

“A huge fan of Ainsley’s too?”

“Sure.”

She nudged him.

“That is, we’re friends. That’s all.”

“It’s a mutual appreciation society,” Ainsley said, squeezing his bicep. “I, like all of Vancouver, am a big fan of the man who got us the Stanley Cup.”

“It’s always a team effort,” he chipped in. Always was, always would be. No man lifted that trophy alone.

“Well, it’s good to see you both here. Have fun tonight.”

“Thanks.”

He plastered a smile on his dial that felt as fake as the reporter’s looked, and entered the function area, which had been decorated in an under-the-sea theme, complete with blue lights and glittering silver-strewn blue drapes he guessed were meant to represent water, the bright splashes of color likely meant to be coral. “Huh. Impressive.”

A waitress approached with a tray of hors d’oeuvres, and he looked for the option that appeared healthiest. He didn’t like to be the person who was all fussy, asking about ingredients, but he didn’t train as hard as he did to have it fall apart through poor food choices.

“You okay?” he asked Ainsley, when she let the waitress pass by.

She nodded, her gaze wistful.

“Do you want me to call her back?”

“No.” She sighed.

“Did you eat before you came?” That would’ve been the smart thing to do.

“No. I should’ve, but I didn’t.”

“Then…?”

“The food looked nice, but I can’t have any.”

“Why? Are you allergic to seafood?”

“No. Well, maybe my agent thinks so.”

“Huh?”

“I see food and I want to eat it—”

He smiled at her dumb joke.

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