“You want what you can’t have.”
“Who says?”
“The rules.” I have to keep my mouth full of lies to keep myself from kissing him again.
Hands in his pockets, Chase rocks back on his heels. “So, I’m really behind the eight ball, huh?”
“If by that, you mean there’s no good choice to make in this situation, then that’s not true. Just follow through with the agreement onCrush or Cupidand this will all be over before youknow it. Just think, one of these women might be your future wife. Happily ever after and all that.”
“No, Pippa. I won’t get my happily ever after like this.”
“You will. It’s in the contract.” I read it three times, trying to find a loophole to get him out of it without messing up Rhiannon’s job.
Meanwhile, I dissolved my agreement with her to be my dating coach. I’m counting down the days until I can retreat to my quiet, orderly life, even if it comes with the occasional appearance of Chompy the Swamp Thing.
“You’re surprisingly stubborn,” Chase says, lassoing his hand around my waist.
Heat sweeps through me, sending my heart fluffies fluttering. It’s decided. My favorite place on earth is in Chase’s arms. “I’m not stubborn.” I frown as I step backward, making a pathetic attempt to follow the rules and break loose.
“You’re even stubborn about being stubborn and?—”
“Am not,” I say as I tip backward. My high heel catches in the sidewalk crack.
Chase comes to my rescue, catching me well before I hit the ground.
“Good thing I’m patient,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m willing to wait out whatever it is you’re objecting to about us being together.”
“We’ve been over this. Work, mine and yours. Plus, the rules and?—”
He presses his finger to my lips as I stand up straight again. “There have been too many moments between us to deny our chemistry. A spark. I see it. Feel it. Live it. Breathe it. You can play coach, go along with this stupid dating thing, and tell me we can’t be together because of rules, but this is more than a crush, Pippa.”
“It’s not a Cupid scenario,” I say, my tone confirming that indeed, I’m being stubborn. “If you keep talking like that, we’ll be in the town hall by the end of the day, and I want to get married in a church.”
As if the kiss flipped the people-pleasing patient switch in Chase, he’s gone from being cooperative and reserved to setting his sights on me with possessively bold declarations.
It terrifies me, but I like it. A lot.
“Pippa, I’m a Boston Bruiser’s all-star because I can go the distance. In the gym, if the coach says to do fifty reps, I do fifty-one. When drilling, I’ll add an extra ten to the end. Rylen and I routinely take long endurance runs—marathons and beyond, to see how long and how far we can go. Even if I have to run around this city, across the country, outside its borders chasing you, I will.”
“But there’s the evaluation due to Blancbourg. Your coach. Your teammates.” That was my last play. I’ve got none left because now the excuses and objections sound stale and strained in my ears. Who am I trying to fool? I have more than a crush on Chase Collins.
His massive, muscled chest lifts and lowers on a long inhale. “Right. But aren’t we two adults who can make our own decisions?” He scuffs his foot on the sidewalk. “I’ve let other people dictate my life for a long time and?—”
“And you’ve also worked hard, as you said. I don’t want to see you throw it all away for me. One more date. SeeCrush or Cupidthrough to the end. Do it for me?”
His usually sparkling blue eyes fall into shadow. “Alright. If this is what you want. Fine.” He turns and whisks into his side of the brownstone. The door almost, but not quite, slams behind him.
With heavy feet and an even heavier heart, I go inside too. That wasn’t how I wanted our post-kiss conversation to go. No, I imagined it would be cozier and involve another kiss or two.
But that tells me two things. My crush is still alive and well. And I’m in big trouble because the initial rescue kiss in the park was caught on film and there was nothing innocent about it.
I spend the rest of the day doing damage control, putting out fires all over the world—Rhiannon in London, Cateline in France, and Coach Hammer in Los Angeles. As for the fans of the show, the mystery woman in the park, aka me, got voted Cupid.
For the next twenty-four hours, Chase remains locked behind the closed door of his brownstone. The short burst of energy I summoned to take care of business drains, and I, too, retreat to my side.
For now, it seems like we’ve reached a stalemate. If we were playing for opposing teams, we’d run into overtime. But I’d like to believe Chase and I are on the same team—the one I pray has a future in the lifelong Hall of Fame.
As the quiet hours tick by with me alternately fretting and thankful for the break, I expect to be shipped off to Siberia, or wherever wayward etiquette coaches who kiss their clients while on a national reality show go.
