Page 83 of Ice Mechanic

Max checks his watch and then slaps me on the back. “Come on. I’ll get you a heat pack. After all those reps, your arms are going to kill you tonight.”

Max is half-right.

But it’s not my tired arms that try to murder me before the game.

I’m exercising on the ice, earbuds in my ears so I can tune out the noise from the crowd when someone nearly bulldozes me down.

“Sorry, sorry.” The opposing goalie says, eyes locked on something in the stands.

“Watch where you’re going.” I glare at the distracted, young player before continuing my reps.

It’s difficult enough to get in the zone with all the noise. It feels like the entire town is here tonight. If Max isn’t coded for a safety violation tomorrow, I’ll be surprised.

Someone skates up to me and a firm, insistent tap hits my shoulder. I whirl around, eyebrows tightening.

Theilan is behind me, wearing the blue and black hockey gear and a wry grin. Pointing up at the stands, he speaks with words that are muffled through his mouth guard, “McLanely, I think that’s your girlfriend.”

My first instinct is to dismiss him, but something prompts me to swing around.

That’s when my heart stops beating.

A woman in a bold red dress is floating down the stairs. Reporters are stampeding around her, trying to film her angelic descent. An awed silence falls on every row she passes by, a quiet wave rippling through the entire arena.

Even from this distance I can see the delicate jewelry sparkling on her wrist. When she reaches up to tuck a lock of her straight brown hair behind her ear, I get a glimpse of dazzling silver earrings.

There’s no way that’s April, is it?

I’ve always known April to wear baggy shirts and shorts or T-shirts under oil-stained jumpers. She would never wear a dress that showed so much of her beautiful, creamy skin.

Not only that, but April’s hair is full of gorgeous untamable curls.

This woman is…

Not my fake girlfriend.

I’m about to turn away when a pair of unmistakable, gemstone-green eyes collide into me.

I skate back like someone pushed me into the boards.

My heart stops again.

Forget seeing a cardiologist, there’s no escaping the truth.

April Brooks is here… to kill me.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

APRIL

This isthemost mortifying moment of my life.

Everyone is watching, filming, pointingat me.

Why, oh why did I think this was a good idea?

“April, over here! Over here! One more picture!”

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