Page 93 of Conrad

“No.”

He turned.

“You can’t call me a liar without calling yourself one. That’s completely not fair. Youagreedto play the game.”

He didn’t mean to roar, but, “What?”

“You said yes. And frankly, I would have been fine with no, but you started it, that day with the team. So of course I was in. And sure, I probably got the most out of it—but this goes both ways, King Con.”

His mouth opened, his mind trying to sift through her words. “That day with the team—wait, do you mean the EmPowerPlay practice?”

“Yes. And the ‘date.’” She finger quoted the words. “And even the photo shoot at the Ice Hawks game. Please—you were all in.”

All. in?“Of course I was—my coach practically ordered me to do it. Sheesh, have you not met me? When I say I’ll do something, I do it.”

She swallowed, and what looked like hurt flashed across her face. Then it vanished. “Right. So you can stop callingmethe liar here.” She picked up her bottle, turned away from him, and finished it off. Then walked over and threw it in the trash. “This was a bad idea.”

His mouth tightened. “Clearly.”

He might have been imagining it, but her eyes glistened.Tears.

He looked away.Don’t be fooled.

“For the record, it stopped being fake for me after . . .” She swallowed. “After you kissed me.”

He couldn’t help it. “Youkissedme.”

She gaped. “Okay, fine. But you definitely kissed me back. And then again. And that didn’t seem one bit fake?—”

“Of course it wasn’t fake!” He held up his hand as if to school his own voice. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking, butnothingI did was fake. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? One of us is playing a game, and the other isn’t.”

She blinked at him. A beat, then, “Wait. Are you suggestingI’mstill playing the game?”

He shoved the ice pack against his hip. “Unless I’m mistaken, you’re the only other person in the room.”

“I just told you it stopped being fake for me?—”

“And I told you nothing about that kiss, aboutus,was ever fake. I don’t know where you got that idea.”

“From you!” She pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead. “You agreed to this whole thing from the very beginning!”

“To what whole thing?” And he was back to roaring.

Her eyes flashed. “To the fake dating! So we could grow our followers on social media! What did you think I was talking about?”

Her words sliced through him, all the way to the bone. “You thought I was faking too?”

A thundering beat. Her voice fell. “What are you saying?”

“What areyousaying?” His breath thickened.

“I thought you were . . .” Her eyes widened.

“Faking everything,” he said softly.

“That was the agreement.”

Her broken tone, the light shake of her voice shivered through him. He set the ice on the counter. “I made no such agreement, Penny. I thought I was agreeing to coach the Ice Hawks. I had no idea that . . . this”—he gestured between them—“was a setup.”

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