She dives into the vehicle and turns the key, looking over her shoulder at the sheriff with a sweet, ‘I wouldn’t hurt a fly’ smile. “This is all a big mis…”
The car rumbles to life and purrs like a lion waking from a nap.
Layla’s face goes white as a sheet and her eyes nearly bulge out of her head. “But it was… I tried it earlier and… I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Ma’am, we take assault and drinking and driving very seriously in Lucky Falls…”
“No, this doesn’t make sense. The car refused to start a few minutes ago. I swear!”
“… I’m afraid I’ll have to take you down to the station to cool off,” the sheriff talks over her.
Layla shakes her head so hard that her hair slashes into her face. “You’rearrestingme?”
“It’s a cool off, ma’am. We’ll chat for a bit and then I’ll let you go.”
Except that ‘chat’ is going to take a while and Layla won’t be let go until April’s proposal is over.
“No, you’re not listening to me. I didn’t do anything wrong.” Layla’s eyes collide with mine. “Officer, it was her.Sheset me up!”
“Alright, alright, ma’am.” The sheriff juts his chin at a deputy and the other man takes Layla by the upper arm. “You can explain all you want down at the station.”
I step aside and fold my hands behind my back, chin held high in victory as Layla is wrestled into the back of the sheriff’s car and carted to the Lucky Falls Police Station.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
NATHAN
When I drive to Chance’s acreage, I’m riding solo. Riley will meet me here later.
The newly built house smells like fresh paint and delicious food. I’m surprised by the number of people who are present—including Mauve, Bobby, and some guys from the original Lucky Strikers hockey team.
Theilan and Watson—two of the most prominent former players—are noticeably absent.
I straighten when I see the team manager with a plate teetering with hors d'oeuvres.
Max has been keeping a professional distance from all the trainees at the camp, but he’s been extra distant with me. I’m starting to believe he intentionally switched to volunteering at another tent when I showed up that day at the fair.
I make a beeline for the team manager.
“Hey, Max,” I say.
I’m over six feet, but Max makes me feel like I haven’t hit my growth spurt yet.
The giant man looks down. His lips purse together at the sight of me. “Campbell.”
I keep grinning, even though I get the feeling he’d rather we not speak. “Nice. Jalapeño poppers.”
“Yup,” Max says.
I mentally face-palm.Jalapeñopoppers?This is the man who holds my future in his hands and all I can talk about is peppers stuffed with shredded chicken.
I’m aware, after training for the league, that sometimes a player with a great attitude and team spirit will get chosen over the more ‘talented’ draft, so I keep pushing for conversation despite the awkwardness.
“Where’s Chance?”
“He’s setting up the hidden cameras,” Max says, glancing around as if looking for an escape.
I’m about to admit defeat and let him go. Suddenly, a small woman in a flowery dress appears beside me.
