Page 83 of Check & Chase
Dinner exceeds my expectations. The steak is perfectly cooked, and the conversation flows as easily as the wine.
“You’ll be there for the Bears-Wolves game?” Chase asks, refilling my wine glass.
“Of course. I’m still the team’s PT, even if my brother is the enemy captain.”
“And you’ll be wearing my jersey again?” The hopeful note in his voice makes me smile.
“Presumptuous, Mitchell.”
“Hopeful. You looked good in my number, Blondie.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. “The Bears blue clashes with my complexion.”
“Liar. Nothing clashes with your complexion.” He states it so matter-of-factly that I’m momentarily speechless.
These casual, sincere compliments slip past my defenses because they’re delivered without expectation. Just Chase stating what he sees, unaware of how each one chips away at the walls around my heart.
“Speaking of the game, the Bears’ PR department called me today. They want to do a feature on us.”
He pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. “On us? Why?”
“Apparently we’re a ‘hockey power couple.’ Star forward dating the team’s physical therapist while her brother is the rival captain.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That I’d discuss it with you. Mr. Peterson wasn’t thrilled. He pulled me aside afterward, reminded me about professional boundaries again.”
Chase’s expression darkens. “He’s giving you a hard time?”
“Just concerned about appearances.”
“We don’t have to do the interview if it makes things complicated for you professionally.”
“It’s already complicated. You and me… whatever this is. It’s not exactly following the ethical guidelines they taught in PT school.”
“Do you regret it?” His voice drops, vulnerability replacing his usual confidence.
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes. My mother’s face lights up the screen.
“Sorry, I should take this. It’s my mom.”
“Emma, sweetheart! I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Did you forget?”
Guilt floods me as I realize I completely forgot our weekly phone call. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I got caught up with work and then—”
“No need to apologize. I can call back tomorrow if now isn’t a good time.”
I glance at Chase, who’s started clearing the table. “Actually, now is fine. I’m just having dinner with… a friend.”
He looks up at that, one eyebrow raised.Friend?he mouths silently.
“A friend?” My mother’s interest is immediately piqued. “What kind of friend?”
I hesitate, then make an impulsive decision. “Do you want to meet him? We could switch to video.”
Chase’s eyes widen in surprise, but he nods when I raise a questioning eyebrow.
“Mom, this is Chase Mitchell. Chase, this is my mother, Diane Anderson.”
