Page 49 of Faking the Shot

But she hadn’t come across too many men who had prayed for her. Her dad, her pastor, Lincoln, that was about all. And she’d known all of them for years, not mere weeks. And ugh—how could she have told him that she wanted a husband? One who could “husband her” no less? How fifteenth-century had that comment made her appear? Oh, he must think her fully weird.

Which might actually be a good thing, so he wouldn’t take the husband comment the wrong way, and start thinking that she wanted him to take that role one day. Although it would be good to have a guy who could so openly pray for her, as he’d done. That was exactly the kind of husbanding she’d meant. Not that she’d ever tell him that. Not that she forone secondwanted him to feel obliged to her in any other way. Not when it was probably easiest to call this whole thing off and just fly solo, for a change.

But if she did that, wouldn’t she just be reinforcing that she couldn’t hold a man? That Ainsley Beckett was a man-eater and she’d just chewed up and spat out another guy. A good guy. One the whole country adored. Her reputation would be shot to smithereens if she dumped him. Anyone who hurt the man would be crucified.

So as embarrassed as she felt, she couldn’t renege on their agreement and dump him now. Especially when he really did seem to be a good guy—and not just in hockey prowess—and had proved it in that moment when he’d prayed for her.Prayedfor her. Aloud.

The fact he prayed for her suggested that maybe there were still some good guys out there in the world, who weren’t so insecure to be seen with her, who weren’t embarrassed to pray. Who actually, genuinely, cared. Like he did, when he’d messaged her this morning to check if she was okay.

“Lord, bless him,” she murmured. Wherever he was today. That’s right, it was game day. She planned to watch him—on TV—later tonight. And while part of her might want to watch him in person at the arena, another part knew that wasn’t wise. Even though it was still early days she could feel this relationship was far less easily defined than she had first imagined.

A knock came at the door, which then opened. She straightened, faked a smile for Crystal, one of the production assistants. “Ainsley? They’re waiting for you.”

“Sorry. I’ll be out in a moment.”

Crystal nodded, then closed the door.

Ainsley drew in a deep breath, then released it. Dabbed water under her eyes to wake herself up. Makeup could fix that later. She straightened, nodded at herself in the mirror. “You can do this.”

Zac was a good guy, but keeping apart and building back some walls was probably how things should be between them. It was probably just as well she didn’t have any other events coming up on the calendar, save for a Christmas party for theAs The Heart DrawsChristmas special, which was good as she needed time to let her heart build up a little more distance before she could act naturally around Zac again. Jason might think that she was being standoffish, but she had no idea how she should act around Zac.

Another knock. Crystal. “Ainsley?”

“I’m coming,” she called.

She really needed to act like she had it together.

But that was the thing. Shecouldact, could rise above the insecurities that exposing her vulnerability had revealed last night. And maybe that made her more of a fake, but as Zac had pointed out, she couldn’t be too real. Not when her decisions affected others.

She closed her eyes. How could she have dared say that thing about wanting to leaveAs The Heart Draws? Cassie would never forgive her.

It was like the questions Zac had asked had held a mirror up to her soul, and she could finally recognize that some things in her life weren’t tracking the way she wanted.

“God, I need You to direct my paths.”

In everything. Her work. Her career. Her love life.

She jerked her attention back to the mirror, saw her eyes wide with shock.

No. Well, yes, she wanted God to direct her love life. But right now she was managing just fine. Faking things with Zac would do just nicely. Even if things had gotten a little too real last night.

She drew herself up then headed to the door. She’d just make sure thatneverhappened again.

* * *

“Good game!”

He leaned in and touched helmets with Chris. “Good game.”

“Hatty, baby.”

Zac smiled, and skated off the ice. Seattle sure hadn’t been cracking tonight. He lifted a stick to the crowd, then skated off the ice, unsurprised when he was asked to stay on the sidelines, alongside Chris. And sure enough, the shutout earned Chris the second star, while Zac’s three goals scored the first. The lights strobed, the music blared, he saluted the crowd, then found the sick kid he’d asked the team to find, and carefully passed over his stick to the beaming child.

“Thanks Zac!” The kid beamed.

He grinned and settled for a salute, as he couldn’t hear much over the arena’s noise. This barn was one of the better ones to play in, and playoff hockey here was the best. He still remembered the noise when Canada won gold at the Olympics—the noise then had been next-level.

A few minutes later he’d stripped off his gear and was readying for postgame interviews. Seattle might be one of the newer clubs in the expansion league, but the expansion meant they’d had their pick of players from different clubs, and they’d done pretty well over the years. Of course, Seattle were helped by having players like Kyle Tinker, an Art Ross winner from a few years ago, who was never shy about offering a gritty game. The fact Seattle were only an hour’s flight away meant they played Vancouver often, and the media from each respective team were usually out in force.

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