Page 58 of Check & Chase
I smile before tucking my phone into the small basket prop that completes my costume.
“Ready?” Maya asks, grabbing the house keys.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Donovan’s house is massive—a sprawling lakefront property that screams “professional athlete salary.” Cars line the long driveway, music and laughter drifting through the air.
“Text Chase,” Maya says as our Uber pulls up. “Tell him to meet us at the door. I want to see his face when he gets a load of you in that dress.”
I do as instructed, nerves building as we approach the house. This is it—our first real public appearance as a “couple.”
“Emma!”
I look up to find Chase waiting by the front door. He’s leaning on one crutch, and even with the injury, he manages to look devastatingly handsome. His wolf costume is subtle but effective—distressed jeans, a fitted gray henley, and wolf ears nestled in his tousled brown hair.
His eyes widen appreciatively as they sweep over my costume, lingering on the expanse of leg exposed. “Wow.”
“Eyes up here, wolf boy,” I tease, but I can’t suppress the pleased flush that rises to my cheeks.
“Right. Sorry.” He grins, not looking sorry at all. “You look amazing, Blondie.”
“You clean up pretty well yourself,” I admit, ignoring Maya’s smirk beside me.
Maya excuses herself to find drinks, leaving Chase and me alone at the threshold. He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear.
“Tyler’s by the fireplace with Carina,” he murmurs. “They’ve been watching the door for the last twenty minutes.”
“Shouldn’t keep them waiting, then,” I reply, taking his hand.
His smile turns almost predatory, fitting his costume perfectly. “Let’s give them something to talk about.”
We enter together, and before we even make it past the front door, he ditches one of his crutches, leaning it against the wall.
“I’ll behave,” he murmurs when I shoot him a look. “No full weight on the knee, promise. Just needed a hand free for this.”
His hand settles on my waist, warm and steady. The party is in full swing—elaborate spider webs hanging from light fixtures, flickering jack-o’-lanterns casting eerie shadows, smoke machine creating ghostly fog.
“Wow,” I say, taking it all in. “Donovan goes all out.”
“Hockey players are superstitious,” he replies, guiding me deeper into the house. “Halloween’s a big deal. Good party means good luck for the season.”
We make our way toward the main living area, and I can feel eyes tracking us. I fight the urge to fidget with my costume, reminding myself that attention is the whole point.
“Mitchell! Anderson!” Donovan’s voice booms over the music as he approaches, dressed as Gomez to Anna’s Morticia. “About time you showed up.”
“Had to make an entrance,” Chase replies easily, his hand warm against my side. “Great party, man.”
As Donovan and Anna move on, Chase leans down again, his lips brushing my ear. “Target acquired. Three o’clock. Don’t be obvious.”
I casually glance in the direction he indicated and immediately spot Tyler and Carina by the massive stone fireplace. They make an attractive couple—both tall and athletic, dressed as some kind of Viking pair.
But neither looks particularly happy.
Tyler’s gaze is fixed on us, his expression darkening as he takes in Chase’s proximity and my revealing costume. Carina is speaking to him with obvious agitation, one hand gripping his arm.
“They’ve seen us,” I murmur. “Now what?”
“Now we enjoy the party,” he suggests, steering me toward the kitchen. “Let them stew. First rule of psychological warfare: make them come to you.”
