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“It’s for you. We need to stay in touch. In the meantime, keep yours dead.”
“Oh.” I slide open the screen. “It’s…a picture of you.”
He grins. “Why wouldn’t you have your fiancé on the lock screen?”
“I could think of a few reasons,” I mutter as I set it down.
“One more thing.” He glances around at the near empty café and pulls something else out of his jacket.
A small blue velvet box.
I stare at it.
But he waits for me. “Are you going to open it or are you waiting for me to get down on one knee?”
I lift the box and tap it lightly on the wooden table. “I’m willing to bet that if Chase Reeves doesn’t chase, then he doesn’t do the one knee thing either.”
He winks. “You catch on quickly.”
I lift the lid and nearly gasp at the emerald-cut citrine diamond ring—it’s not a simple ring. He is making a statement.
I lift my gaze, my lips curving. “Who are you trying to impress?”
He scratches his chin and leans back in his chair, looking at the ring like it’s some business proposal, then lifts his gaze to mine. “Do you like it?”
My brows jerk and I nod just as simply. “It’s beautiful…um…thank you? I’ll take care of it. I’m sure this was a loan from the jeweler or something.”
“Yes, Pepper. I told a jeweler about our fake engagement.”
“So you bought this?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
I stare down at the expensive piece of jewelry. “This…isn’t even your problem.”
He stares at me.
“I mean…the woman you eventually give this to—will she ever know it wasn’t meant for her?”
“Pepper, put the ring on. Drink your coffee. And eat your toast. We need to get to the rink.”
Tearing my eyes off the diamond, I look up at him. “Why?”
“The real challenge is getting you ready for the ice by Saturday,” he says, tying my laces on the bench in the arena. It’s empty, but we’re in the smaller rink. The one that Lonnie used for my practice last night.
Stubbornly, I stay seated at the bench where he just tied my laces like I was a toddler.
He stretches a hand. “Come on. I used to watch you do this at the lake. It’s like riding a bike.”
“It is not the same thing. And what do you mean watch me?” My question is playful, not accusatory, because it’s the second time he’s referenced it.
He looks up. “More like wait for you to move so I could toss the puck to my buddies.”
“Oh, that’s right.” I feign ignorance. “You were one of the nerds who never left the ice.”
“Still am. Now get up. I promised Lonnie I’d work with you.”
He offers a hand, thankfully, and I take it, letting him guide me the few steps to the ice.
