Page 83 of Cold Feet
But another part – the part that couldn't stop remembering how it felt to wake up in his arms, to feel his thumb tracing circles on my palm under the blanket during the bonfire, to see the vulnerability in his eyes as he told me no one else had ever come close – wanted nothing more than to say yes.
I glanced again at the ring on my finger, at the way the sapphire caught the light. This wasn't fake anymore.
Maybe it never was.
With a deep breath, I typed my reply:
ME: 7 PM. And don't get any bright ideas about breaking curfew the night before our season opener.
His response came almost immediately:
?? + ??
I smiled at the screen like an idiot.
Setting my phone down, I turned back to my computer, determined to at least attempt productivity for the rest of the afternoon. But Coco's words echoed in my mind, impossible to silence:
Maybe what's really at stake is your heart.
Chapter 15
The mirror didn't lie. I had changed outfits three times, finally settling on a sleek, pencil skirt and silk shell in Slashers teal with a fitted black blazer. Professional, yet feminine. My makeup was flawless – smoky eyes, subtle contour, a sheer gloss that made my lips look fuller. I'd even spent twenty minutes curling my hair into perfect waves, a far cry from my usual sleek ponytail for games.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered to my reflection as I fastened small diamond studs to my ears. "You're the PR director, not a trophy girlfriend."
But as I slipped the sapphire ring onto my finger, I couldn't deny the truth any longer. I wasn't dressing for the cameras or the Redline executives. I was dressingfor Cam.
I bit my lip, studying my reflection. Did he even notice these things? Did he care how I looked? The memory of his appreciative gaze when I'd worn that blue sundress at the beach house suggested he did. The thought sent a flutter through my stomach that I refused to analyze.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
CAM: Ready to watch me embarrass Montreal tonight, Cupcake Queen?
I felt a treacherous smile spread across my face as I typed back.
ME: Don't jinx it. And yes, I expect nothing less than total domination. Redline execs will be watching from box 3.
CAM: Roger that. Hitting the ice extra hard for you tonight.
ME: For Redline, you mean.
His response came almost immediately.
CAM: Sure. Let's go with that.
I set my phone down, warmth spreading through my chest. With one last glance in the mirror, I grabbed my tablet and headed out. Tonight was crucial, not just for the team, but for Cam's Redline deal. The executives would be watching his performance closely, evaluating whether their multimillion-dollar investment in hockey's reformed heartthrob would be worthwhile.
And here I was, the architect of this entire charade, wearing his ring and trying desperately not to reveal how real my feelings had become.
Ninety minutes before puck drop, I stood in the media control room, watching the clock tick down as my to-do list remained stubbornly unfinished. The energy in the arena was already building, a special electricity unique to season openers. This year felt different, though. More significant. More personal.
"Hey, boss." Katie, my assistant, appeared in the doorway, tablet in hand. "ESPN wants to know if they can get an exclusive with Cam after the game, regardless of the outcome."
"Tell them he's scheduled for the standard post-game press conference only," I replied, straightening my blazer. "No exclusives tonight. I need to keep the Redline people happy, which means equal access for all media."
"Got it. Also, Coach Sully wants to confirm you've briefed the newbs on media protocol."
I nodded. "Blackwood and Petrovich are both clear on the talking points. And make sure everyone sticks to the 'no comment' line about the Ottawa trade rumors." If I got two whole words out of Blackwood tonight I'd consider it a win.
