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Chase frowns in my direction since I hadn’t had a chance to tell him about it yet.
“I just don’t think it’s fair to accept when there are others who probably deserve the spot more.”
Conner cocks his head. “I don’t know about that. Yours is…pretty compelling.” He rises and circles the bar to us.
Chase and I exchange glances and he squeezes my hand.
“What’s so compelling about it?” Chase asks, his expression hard, somewhat resembling what he looks like before he gets on the ice.
Ready for battle.
Conner licks his bottom lip, surveying me. It makes my skin crawl.
“It’s…practically a once in a lifetime chance. A chance to share your story with tens of thousands of women in your shoes who look for an escape—I mean—a new…opportunity.”
My jaw clenches and I tense for the first time today.
Chase steps in front of me, but I push him aside, staying put in my chair. “This isn’t exactly new. I’ve been an Ice Girl for several years. And Chase and I aren’t new either.”
Conner’s jaw flexes as he stares, choosing his words carefully.
“What about being engaged?” he finally asks. “Is that not exactly new to you either?”
“If there’s something you want to say, Conner, just fucking say it and go away.”
“Is there a problem?” Coach Riley comes behind Conner, towering over him.
Conner barely blinks. “Oh, we were just talking about politics.”
“We were?” Chase raises a brow.
“Yeah. Hey speaking of politics. Did you hear about the President’s son’s runaway bride?”
Chase chuckles. “I don’t follow fake news.”
“Oh, I don’t either. But I’m not so sure this one’s fake. I mean don’t get me wrong. There’s a lot of fakeness going on around here. But doubtful it’s from Virginia’s future mayor.”
“I didn’t hear anything about a runaway bride, nor would I vote for anyone related to Mayfield.” Coach grumbles.
Conner grins. “Should see this babe, Riley.” He whips out his phone.
Panicked, I look at Chase, whose poker face is a hell of a lot better than mine. He looks bored as ever. But I don’t miss the tension in his jaw. The blazing in his ocean blue eyes. And the subtle hint he flashes in my direction to let me know he’s got this.
He shows Coach the image, and I don’t need to lean in to see that’s me on the screen. My old blonde hair. The first-lady style outfits I used to wear when we were out—at least since he announced his campaign.
Coach Riley focuses on the image, his eyes flinching when he registers the face. Then…a lingering glance in my direction before he looks back at Conner’s device. “Is that a…reward above her photo?”
Conner pulls his phone back. “Reward? Oh hey, look at that. You’re right. Looks like they’re offering a million bucks to whoever finds this…Penelope Walker. There’s an incentive if I ever saw one.”
My throat is dry. I turn, taking a sip of my water.
“Didn’t realize you were struggling for cash, Conner,” Chase says, his tone even.
“I get paid well enough. But a million is hard to resist.”
Coach Riley clears his throat and takes a sip of his amber drink. “You act like you have a choice. Even if this story is real, what makes you think you’ll find her?” He avoids looking in my direction again.
And it’s almost deliberate.
