Page 46 of Hooked On Them

I whipped my head toward Miles so fast my neck twinged. He said it so convincingly, like he’d said it to me a million times before. Even as my brain short-circuited, a tiny voice in the back of my mind reminded me this wasn’t real.

Coach stared. I stared. Miles’s own expression faltered, like his brain had only now caught up with his mouth.

Coach Lovell leaned back in his chair and muttered, “Well. This complicates my morning even more.”

Even more?

There was a sharp knock on the door, followed immediately by it swinging open. Richard Kessler, one of the team’s owners, walked in. And right behind him? Carter.

I did a double take. What the hell was he doing here?

“Sorry if I’m a bit early, I was too excited.” Richard ushered Carter in. “It looks like I have perfect timing. Carter, this is our skating coach, Nora Hastings, and our team captain, Miles Collins.”

“Nice to meet you.” Miles stood and extended his hand to Carter, not having a clue that it was the Carter I’d mentioned several times.

Richard clapped Carter on the shoulder like they were old friends. “Carter here bought out Timothy’s shares in the team. We’ll be making the announcement on Friday.”

I’d done extensive research on standard disaster scenarios: tsunamis, earthquakes, alien invasions. But nowhere in any survival guide had I found instructions for what to do when your fake baby daddy meets the guy you had a threesome with who now owns part of the team you work for.

My brain blue-screened so quickly I could practically hear the Windows shutdown sound in my head.

Carter. The Carter who decided he wanted to be part of my pregnancy regardless of who the father was. The Carter who knew Dominic was the father of my baby. The Carter who had no idea I was now pretending to date Miles.

ThatCarter had bought part of the team.

“Nora? Are you okay?” Miles’s voice floated toward me from what felt like the bottom of the ocean.

I blinked rapidly, trying to focus as Carter extended his hand to me with a polite, professional smile that betrayed absolutely nothing. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Coach Hastings.”

Officially meet me? OFFICIALLY MEET ME? I’d had his tongue in places that would make Coach Lovell spontaneously combust if he knew, and now we were doing the nice-to-meet-you charade?

I shook Carter’s hand on autopilot, praying my face didn’t betray the highlight reel of bad decisions flashing through my mind.

Carter turned his attention back to Miles. “I’ve been following the Titans for years. Your offensive strategy last season was brilliant.”

“Thanks, man. It’s great we’re going to have another owner who loves the game.”

A fan of the game? The same fan who didn’t even watch hockey?

“I played a bit in college. Nothing like your level, but I’ve always loved the sport.” Carter was so full of shit.

The laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. A small, strangled sound at first that quickly escalated into the full-blown kind of hysteria that comes right before tears or a complete breakdown.

All four men stopped talking and stared at me.

“Is... everything okay?” Richard looked genuinely concerned for my mental health. Fair enough.

“Fine! I’m fine!” I wiped at my eyes. “Just thinking of a really funny... hockey joke.”

Coach Lovell’s expression suggested he was mentally reviewing my contract for clauses he could use to fire me.

Miles swooped in like the fake boyfriend hero he apparently was. “Sorry about that. She’s been working overtime with the rookies.” His hand found mine, fingers intertwining with practiced ease. “And with the pregnancy, she’s pretty exhausted.”

Carter’s eyes dropped to our joined hands, a flicker of confusion and surprise crossing his features before his professional mask slipped back into place.

“We should probably get going. It was great meeting you, Carter. Looking forward to having you on board.” Miles was already leading me to the door.

I caught Carter’s gaze one last time. The slight tilt of his head and the questioning look in his eyes told me this conversation was far from over.

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