He sounded skeptical.
“I dropped the spare,” I explained. “It rolled over here.”
“Ah. So... you’re okay?”
I realized that we probably looked pretty shady, like we were throwing tires down the hill for sport.
“We’re about two minutes from hitting the road again. But thanks,” Ben answered.
The other car door opened and the little girl hopped out, clutching her phone. “I know you! You’re Quinn Albright!”
I felt my cheeks go hot. I could never predict where I was going to get recognized, which meant I was never truly alone.
“Yup, it’s me,” I gave her a little wave, still unsure how to respond when people told me my name.
“You’re the reason I started skating lessons,” she said excitedly.
“Oh, no way! Are you having fun? Because that’s the most important part.”
“She better be,” the man laughed. “They cost enough.”
“See that guy?” I pointed at Ben, eager to share the spotlight. “That’s a three-time gold medal speed skater.”
“Oh,yeah,” the guy answered for her. “You’re that Blake guy.”
“Close,” Ben answered good-naturedly. “Bennett Martino.”
“Yup, that’s right! Bailey, you should get a picture with the two of them.”
My stomach clenched. A photo of the two of us meant more Ben and Quinn lore that could muddy my comeback story.
“Can I? Would you mind?”
“Of course,” Ben answered. “Happy to!”
“I’ll take it for you,” her father said.
We squished together and I made sure to put Bailey in between us, as a buffer.
“Say ‘gold medal,’” the man coached.
We all laughed, but I shouted the two words in my head as he snapped the photo. I was used to manifesting my future medal every chance I got.
“Is this okay?” Bailey asked, holding her phone out to show us.
It was an adorable photo, with Bailey’s braces taking center stage. Somehow Ben’s hand wound up grasping my waist, and mine was clutching his shoulder.
“It’s perfect,” Ben said. “You two look like models.”
Bailey blushed. “I’m going to post it!”
I had to face it; the narrative of what was happening between me and Ben was out of my hands already. Pictures would be posted—I’d seen plenty of cameras pointed our way at the diner and out on the ice—so assumptions would be made, long before the show was broadcast.
But no matter what the world thought, I knew there was no way I was going to wind up as Ben’s latest romantic roadkill.
Chapter Fourteen
“This isnotwhat I was expecting,” Hailey said as she helped Neil get set up in Greta’s showroom. “I thought we were going to be in someone’s kitchen.”
