The first shit storm blew the next morning while Lexie spoke with the contractor renovating her store. Before Sean set foot in Arizona, an “anonymous” source contacted the Seattle Times with Lexie and Sean’s star-crossed-love story. Within an hour of the “leak,” the story appeared on the paper’s online site and was quickly picked up by the gossip sites. Each added their own brand of snarky commentary with headlines like:

• Sean Knox Out Pete Dalton
• Hitchin’ Bride Ran Away With Hockey Star
• Pete Dalton Put on Ice for Sean Knox
• Lexie Kowalsky Scores With Hockey Player

TMZ stoked the flames and fueled the story with a photograph of Sean stepping onto the ice at Gila River Arena in Glendale.

Before Sean had left her apartment the night before, he’d reminded her of their agreement to talk to her parents first. He didn’t want any distraction while on the road and demanded that the news not happen until the Monday after his return. Lexie tried to negotiate the leak date, but he’d been totally stubborn and wouldn’t budge.

Too bad everything got mixed up.

She’d put her anonymous source, Marie, in charge of the leak, and Marie being Marie overthought her assignment. Her friend insisted that they needed a layer of plausible deniability and had handed it off to her anonymous source, Jimmy. Jimmy being a nincompoop jumped the gun five days before Sean’s return. From the road, he’d sent a “What the fuck?” text to her prepaid phone. She’d explained the mix-up but wasn’t sure if he believed her. She’d received pretty much the same text from her mother and father. She’d texted them back with a lie, “I love him,” and they’d agreed to table the discussion until the team returned that Sunday night, giving Lexie time to make a detailed memo. Of course they’d discussed the plan, but she always felt better when everything was written out. She created sections and subsections, complete with highlights and bullet points, then she’d sent it in a file to Sean’s phone. By the time the Chinooks returned from the road, and she met Sean in the belly of the Key Arena, she was feeling almost confident of the plan. The only weak link was Sean himself, but as long as he stuck to the script, everything would turn out fine.

“Has my dad been hard on you?” she asked next to Sean’s ear as they embraced the night of his return. His hair smelled like woodsy shampoo and fresh air, and if anyone was watching, they looked like a couple in love. “Has he yelled or cursed at you?”

“No more than usual.” They stood just outside the Chinooks locker room. “But the I’m-going-to-pound-on-you glare has returned to his eyes.” He pulled back and looked down into her face. “The guys on the team discovered Gawker and TMZ, and their chirping is relentless.”

That was bound to happen with hockey players, who considered chirping a moral obligation. “Did you read the memo?”

“I glanced at it.”

The memo needed to be absorbed, not glanced at. The anxiety pounding in her heart kicked up a notch. She took his hand and tried not to look worried as they walked into her father’s office. She didn’t know what scared her more, the frown on her father’s face or that she and Sean might contradict each other.

“Explain this to me.” John Kowalsky waved a hand toward them as she and Sean took the chairs across his desk. “The story on the Internet is crap.”

Looking at her parents added a heavy dose of guilt to her anxious heart. “It’s not crap.” Section one outlined the story they would tell her parents. It was always best to stick as close to the truth as possible. Unless the truth needed to be covered with a big fat lie. “I love Sean.” She turned to her mother sitting beside her father. “We met in Pittsburgh, and it was love at first sight.” She squeezed Sean’s hand so he paid attention to the story. Instead he untwined their fingers and loosened his blue striped tie.

“The two of you?” Her father pointed at her, then at Sean. “You want me and Georgeanne to believe this fairy tale?”

It wasn’t entirely a fairy tale, at least not like the one she’d carefully detailed and planned to tell the press the next day. She turned her gaze to her mother. “You fell in love with Dad the first day you met.” She’d been conceived on that day, too. Very few people knew that her mother had once been a runaway bride, too. A runway bride who’d jumped into John “The Wall” Kowalsky’s little red Corvette, but now wasn’t the time to talk about the first seven years of her life and the impact her parents’ own bad choices had made in her life.

Her mother’s green eyes worried over Lexie’s face and piled on even more guilt. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me that the man in the picture played for your dad.”

Because she hadn’t known. “I’m sorry. Everything was so crazy and confused.” That much was true, and she glanced at Sean to see if he was paying attention. He looked straight ahead as he unbuttoned the collar of his blue dress shirt, and she couldn’t tell. “I didn’t know if my feelings for him were real.” That was close to the truth if she stretched it a bit. “Then Sean sent a note to me at the Fairmont and I just knew I was still in love with him.” She hated lying to her parents, but needs must. According to the terms and conditions she had sent Sean, they’d “break up” in May but remain amiable. She’d wanted to give the story time and credibility, but in one of the few texts Sean had actually returned, he’d insisted on the third week in March, three weeks before the Stanley Cup playoffs. He didn’t need any distractions and wanted enough time for the story to completely die before he and the Chinooks made a race for the cup.

Lexie had agreed because she didn’t have a choice. She needed Sean more than he needed her. One more lifeline had been tossed her way. She wasn’t about to let this chance to save herself and her business slip through her fingers. This time she gripped it in a stranglehold and wasn’t about to let go.

“We love each other.” She reached for Sean’s hand resting on the arm of his chair. Their declaration of love might be more believable if he didn’t look like a dead man walking and she was the executioner leading him to the gas chamber.

The legs of her father’s chair hit the floor and his gaze locked on Sean. “I’ve heard Lexie mention love a few times now. I haven’t heard Sean mention it. In fact, Knox, you haven’t said much of anything.”

If he blew it, she would punch him. Knee him really good, too.

“It happened pretty much like Lexie said,” Sean finally spoke up. Now, all he had to do was recite subsection two from the outline. “I waited aboard the Sea Hopper, not knowing if she’d even show up. Then I saw her running toward me, and I just knew. I checked her in to the Harbor Inn so she wouldn’t feel pressured and took her to meet my mother the next morning.” It wasn’t exactly what she’d outlined, but close enough. He covered her hand with his and gave a little squeeze. “The two have a lot in common and really hit it off.”

The last was not part of section two and set off alarm bells in Lexie’s head.

“You haven’t mentioned the word ‘love,’” her father persisted.

Sean looked down at her and smiled. “There are so many things to love about Lexie.” That wasn’t in any section or subsection, either. She’d made it simple and really didn’t think she could have made it easier:

1. I love her.
   1. a. Never stopped loving her.
   2. b. Our love brought us back to each other.
   3. c. My heart beats for her.
2. Lexie is
   1. a. Fun.
   2. b. Smart.
   3. c. Big-hearted.
   4. d. Beautiful.

A tic pulled at the corner of the smile she kept glued on her face. She looked up at the amusement shining from the depths of his dark green eyes. She’d blackmailed him into playing her boyfriend. Either he was exacting revenge, or he just wasn’t smart enough to follow a simple outline. Both were problematic.

He rubbed his hand up and down her bare forearm, warming her skin with his big palm. “What’s not to love about Lexie?”

“I always say that, too.” Her mother laid her head on her husband’s big shoulder. “Don’t I, John?”

“Yes, Georgie,” he answered, and kissed the top of her head. “You say that about all the kids.”

No one but Lexie seemed to notice that Sean hadn’t directly answered the question.

“That was messed up,” he said as they walked to the parking lot half an hour later. “I don’t like lying to John and your mother.”

She looked up at him out of the corners of her eyes. Dusk settled on his forehead, and a chilly breeze tousled locks of his dark hair and turned his cheeks red. He’d put on a long wool coat but left it open enough for the wind to ruffle his tie. “It’s okay if you decide to lie to your mother about us, but not okay if I decide to lie to my parents.”

“It’s not the same. I lied to save your ass from Hoda and Kathie Lee.”

Her car lights flashed twice as she pressed a button on the keypad. “And I literally saved your ass from a hockey stick.”

“That was just talk. It wouldn’t have happened.”

“We will never know that now.” She stopped by the driver’s side door. “Do I need to resend the memo?”

“Nope.” He patted a side pocket in his gray overcoat. “Got it right here in my e-mail.”

“You went a little off script.” Several strands of her blond hair blew across her face, and she shoved them behind one ear. “It’s important that you stick to the bullet points tomorrow. Sylvia pounces on the slightest inaccuracy. Real or perceived,” she said, referring to the Seattle Times reporter.

“You just worry about Lexie.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his chest. “In case the world is watching,” he said, but kissed her like they were alone. Warm and wet, sucking the breath from her lungs and starting a fire that burned from the tips of her toes, all the way to the top of her head. Just as suddenly he released her, leaving her in stunned silence as he walked away. The wind kicked up the single vent at the bottom of his coat as she raised a hand to her lips. Her fingers felt especially cool against the hot imprint of his kiss, lingering on her lips long after he faded into the dusky evening.

The Seattle Times had a daily circulation of over two hundred and thirty thousand, with three times as many online views. The morning after the leak had first appeared, the views had almost doubled. By the time Lexie and Sean sat down in his condo, the anticipation had grown so big, the story was being held for the cover of the local section of the Sunday edition, circulation of over eight hundred thousand.

“It was love at first sight,” she gushed to reporter Sylvia Navarro. Lexie placed a hand on the front of her cashmere sweater, made from the underbelly of cruelty-free Mongolian goats. “Too bad I didn’t trust it at first.” She and Sean sat on his gray leather couch, one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders, with the observation deck of the Space Needle in full view in the windows beyond. The perfect setting for the star-crossed lovers. “We just thought the odds were stacked against us.” The condo was decidedly modern, inside and out. Cold steel, stark white walls, and slate tiles that definitely could use some color.

“You say you two met in Pittsburgh when Sean was playing for the Penguins.” Sylvia’s slick black hair fell over one shoulder as she glanced at the notes in her lap. “When was that exactly?”

“September,” Sean answered, just as she’d outlined in section three. He wore a green dress shirt and charcoal slacks, the perfect complement to her deep blue sweater and black pants. If Lexie had been allowed to stage the apartment, too, she would have added touches of red and sunny yellow and several area rugs made of long, toe-curling shag.

“What day in September?” The reporter looked up, and if her dark gaze seemed to linger a bit in Sean’s direction, Lexie couldn’t really blame the woman. He was big and handsome, his cheeks shaved smooth of his usual daily scruff. The color of his shirt made his eyes seem a deeper green, and he smelled like musky soap, rich and intoxicating.

“Sixteenth.” And Sylvia didn’t appear to be immune to his certain brand of intoxication. “A full month before I agreed to do Gettin’ Hitched.” She paused as if in deep reflection. “I’ve had time to take a good hard look at my actions, and I know now that I was running from my feelings for Sean. When I agreed to do the show, I’d convinced myself that our relationship was over. My feelings were raw and our relationship seemed so impossible, and the show was a distraction from the pain I felt inside.” She laid her head on his big shoulder. “When I signed the contract, I honestly thought I could fall in love with Pete, but my heart still belonged to Sean. I never should have participated when my judgment had been so clouded with pain.”

“What did you think when you saw Lexie on reality TV, competing to be the wife of another man?” Sylvia asked Sean as she checked the battery life on her digital recorder.

“Shock. Anger.” He chuckled. “But I never thought she’d actually win.”

Lexie lifted her head and looked into his face. “I’m very competitive.”

“I know. Inherited from your dad’s side.”

How did he know that? It wasn’t in the memo. If she wasn’t careful, she might actually believe he had feelings for her. Other than anger and annoyance. She might actually believe she had feelings for him, too. Other than suspicion and a growing fascination with his kiss.

“You shouldn’t have competed so hard to win a man you didn’t love.” He squeezed the top of her arm.

That wasn’t part of the script, either, and she felt like she was in Sandspit again, sitting at the Waffle Hut and being judged by him. “If you’d tried a little harder to win me, I never would have pulled on a pair of Daisy Dukes and climbed down from a tractor.” That wasn’t in the memo, either, but honestly, being lectured by the hypocrite who’d lied about his identity when they’d first met added irritation to her list of feelings.

Sean laughed. “If I’d known you were going to win a husband on the set of a fake farm, I would have hog-tied you, baby.”

Sylvia’s laughter joined Sean’s, and Lexie could feel a crease pull her brows. Baby? They hadn’t discussed terms of endearment and she hadn’t thought to include them. “You’re so romantic.” One unauthorized endearment was probably okay, but this was her life. One wrong move could put a pin in her last chance. She’d have to include some in her memo just to be safe.

“It does sound romantic,” Sylvia agreed. “When did you realize that you couldn’t let her marry Peter Dalton?”

“When I saw the last episode.” Sean removed his arm from around Lexie and sat forward with his forearms on his knees. His green eyes stared across at the reporter, blasting her with his megawatt charm. “I’d signed with Seattle in late October. Mostly so I could see Lexie, but when I got here, I couldn’t find her. I don’t watch a lot of television, and I’d never even heard of Gettin’ Hitched. I’m from Canada. Her father wasn’t my biggest fan, so I couldn’t ask him.”

“That must have been difficult. You have your career on one side and the woman you love on the other.”

“It was, Sylvia.” He paused, as if remembering that difficult time. “I searched for Lexie behind the scenes, but no one seemed to know where she was. She’d just vanished on me and I was very concerned.”

Wow, he’d gone off script again and made himself look like a great guy? And what did being Canadian have to do with anything?

Sean looked down at his leather shoes. “I don’t watch a lot of television, but I was on a spin bike one night at the Key and I looked up and there she was. Rolling in the mud with a pig.”

He was purposely ad-libbing, and Lexie got that familiar panicky palpitation in her heart. “That was the lipstick-on-a-pig competition. We had to catch a greasy piglet and put lipstick on it.” She paused to put one hand on her chest and explained, “No pigs were harmed during the episode, and I wouldn’t normally exploit an animal like that. The poor little pig’s heart was beating like crazy. I felt horrible.”

Sean glanced over his shoulder at her. His eyes settled on her lips, and he said, his voice deep and intimate as if they were the only two people in the room, “You’re so sweet.” The palpitations pinched a corner of her heart. This wasn’t real, she reminded herself.

“Did you win?” Sylvia wanted to know.

“Of course.” Lexie ducked her chin to hide the warmth rushing her cheeks.

Sean laughed and sat back. “We should probably add cutthroat to the list of your charms.” Once again he wrapped his arm around her and dropped a casual kiss on her lips. He was good at that. So good at making a casual kiss seem like so much more. If she wasn’t careful, she might start to like it too much. If she wasn’t careful, she might start to like him too much, and that was impossible.

Sylvia looked down at her notes as if she was intruding on a private moment. “How did the plan to run away from one man to the other unfold, Lexie?”

Impossible. She didn’t even like Sean. Not very much, at any rate. “I got a note from a mutual friend that Sean was waiting for me at the docks off Fairview.” After Jimmy had messed up the “leak” they’d decided to leave his name out of things as much as possible. “The note said he still loved me and would wait for me until seven-thirty.” Then, because he was rubbing her arm and purposely confusing the palpitations in her heart, she added, “He signed it with a little heart.” He squeezed her against his side and she smiled up at him. “Wasn’t I supposed to mention the hearts?”

He lowered his face and whispered next to her ear, “You’re going to pay for that.”

“Ahh . . . now who’s being sweet?” She laughed at the color rising up his cheeks. “I was terrified that I’d miss him,” she continued, returning her attention to Sylvia. “But there he was, standing at the end of the dock, waiting for me with open arms.”

“It reminds me of Carrie and Mr. Big.” Sylvia smiled as if she was reliving the last ten minutes of the Sex and the City movie. This was nothing like Carrie and Mr. Big, and Lexie looked into Sean’s puzzled green eyes. He clearly didn’t know what Sylvia was talking about. Maybe he should watch some TV.

“Except for the closet and the Manolos.” And just about everything else.

The reporter laughed at the little joke. “Sean, did you worry that she might have fallen in love with Pete and not show up?”

“No. I was only concerned that she wouldn’t get the letter in time. There was no question in my mind that she’d choose me over that guy.”

Okay. That was a good answer.

“Pete’s a loser,” he added. “What kind of man goes on national TV to find a wife?” Lexie opened her mouth to answer, but Sean answered himself, “A sissy who can’t get women on his own.”

Now he sounded like a jealous lover, which was good but confusing. If she didn’t know this was all an act, she might start to believe he cared. “I don’t want to talk about Pete.”

“I don’t blame you. He’s a weasel.”

Staring at the amusement in his eyes brought her back to reality, reminding her that:

1. He didn’t have feelings for her.
2. She didn’t have feelings for him.
3. He didn’t want a relationship.
4. She didn’t want a relationship.
   1. a. She’d almost married the wrong guy.

“Why Sandspit, British Columbia?” Sylvia asked.

“Two very good reasons,” Sean answered, and turned his attention to the reporter. “I wanted my mother to meet Lexie.” He pulled her closer against his side again. “No one would think to search for us there, and we needed some serious alone time. If you know what I mean.” She elbowed him and he took it further, squeezing her even tighter. “I needed to put a smile back on my baby’s face.”

“Did he?”

Once again, a warm flush rose up Lexie’s throat and heated her cheeks. To the casual observer, it might appear tender and loving. For Lexie, it reminded her of his warm breath on the side of her throat. His big hands on her breasts and her legs wrapped around his waist. They’d never really discussed that night at the Harbor Inn. She didn’t want to talk about it now. Nor did she want the little tingles gathering at her wrist, just above her pulse.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said into her hair. His breath warmed her scalp and sent more tingles down the side of her neck, just like that night they’d spent in the small Canadian hotel. “Making love is the best part of being in love. Isn’t that what you always say?”

Sort of. While she hadn’t included a section on suitable endearments, she had given him a list of answers to questions about love. She’d done the work for him and thought he’d find subsection five useful:

1. Part of love is taking the risk.
2. Love heals all wounds.
3. I saw her smile and I just knew.
4. Making love is one of the best parts of being in love.

She’d come up with a few more that she couldn’t recall at the moment. He had her flustered and nervous and unable to think beyond the memory of the night he’d spread scattering tingles and chased them with his mouth.

Sylvia turned her questions to Sean and the five years he’d lived in Pittsburgh before he’d “fallen in love with Lexie” and moved to Seattle. His thumb idly brushed her arm through her sweater as he answered.

She knew that he’d played hockey in Pittsburgh from a Google search of his name. Of course she knew that his mother lived in Sandspit, and she knew that he liked his vodka cold and sex hot. At the moment, he was a huge part of her life. She was hanging on by her fingernails. She was depending on him to help save her, yet she knew next to nothing about his life.

“Where do you see yourself in twenty years?” Sylvia asked Sean, pulling Lexie’s attention from the man against her side.

“Surrounded by six kids.”

“Six kids!” Lexie put a hand on her chest. “With me?”

He squeezed her tight against his side. “I can’t wait to get started.”

There it was again. The little pinch in her heart that confused truth and lies and made her remind herself that none of this was real. He was acting, and who knew he would be so good at it?

“Where do you see yourself?” the reporter asked Lexie.

Lexie couldn’t see that far ahead. There was so much she had to do in the present, she could hardly see past tomorrow. This newspaper article was just second on her list of missions she had to accomplish before she could even begin to think of the future. “Happy and still in love.” She held up her index and middle fingers. “Two kids. Maybe three. My business, Yum Yum’s Closet, a household name and a franchise of physical stores.” As long as she had a reporter in front of her she had to add, “I’m having an opening for my first store at the end of next month. I’ll send you an invitation.” She flashed the man beside her a smile. “Sean will be there. Who knows, we might have some surprising news by then.”

One brow lifted up his forehead. “Really?”

“What news?” Sylvia wanted to know.

The last time she’d gone after free publicity, it had backfired. She was more cautious this time. “I’ll call you first. I promise.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Before Sylvia shut off her recorder, Lexie hurriedly added, “We’re asking people to bring a bag of dog food to the opening, which we will donate to our local animal shelters. March is National Animal Poison Prevention Month, and we always donate a portion of that month’s profits to the ASPCA. Animal cruelty hurts everyone and must be stopped.”

“You’re one of those,” Sean said.

Lexie looked up into Sean’s green eyes. “Of those?”

“Responsible for all those horrible commercials of abused animals on television.”

“I thought you didn’t watch TV.”

“Not usually, but I swear to God, every time I turn it on there’s a commercial of a dog with its ribs sticking out and limping down the street.”

Sylvia shut off her recorder. “Most people just turn the channel.”

“There’s no way you can turn it fast enough to avoid seeing a cat with a messed-up eye.”

Lexie tried not to judge, but in his case, she didn’t try that hard. Abused animals were helpless and broke her heart. She was very disappointed that Sean changed the channel instead of reaching out to help starving dogs and sick kitties.

“I had to give them my credit card number just so I don’t feel hammered by guilt each time I change the channel.”

The Thursday after the interview, Lexie relaxed with chardonnay in her seat on the third deck at the Key. On the ice below, the Anaheim Ducks skated from end to end enduring the boos of Seattle fans.

“You probably need to say that you have complete respect for the directors and producers,” Marie said from the seat beside her.

“I agree.” Lexie scribbled on a yellow legal pad as she brainstormed scenarios and crafted a plan for the Gettin’ Hitched reunion show that was scheduled to tape next month. “And the fans.” She wasn’t looking forward to the reunion show. She’d rather face a swarm of yellow jackets than the hive of hitchin’ brides. She’d stand a better chance of dodging the sting of wasps than the barbs of twenty pissed-off contestants. She’d seen all the episodes and follow-up interviews now. She knew what they’d said about her during the show and in the days afterward.

“And you should probably think of something nice to say about the other women.”

Lexie’s pen stopped. She opened her mouth to ask if Marie had lost her mind when the arena dimmed and T.I.’s “Bring Em Out” blasted through the speakers. Blue and green lights swirled on the ice below, and the announcer said over the music, “Get ready, Seattle, for your Seattle Chinooks!!!” From the decks below, wild cheers filled the arena as the team stepped from the tunnel and onto the empty ice. They skated from end to end, tightening the circle with each pass. Lexie’s gaze landed on number 36 as he stopped at the players’ bench and stepped inside. She bit her lip to hide a smile as the lights came back up and the music died. The announcer listed the names of the referees and linesmen, then called out the Ducks starting lineup.

“Boo!” Marie yelled. Like Lexie, Marie had been raised around the Chinooks and knew all the insults. “You suck pond water.”

The roar of boos and insults turned to cheers when Seattle’s front line was announced.

“Number 36 . . . winner of the Conn Smythe and Art Ross trophies, Sean Knox!”

His team picture and stats flashed across the jumbotron as he skated to the centerline.

“Impressive.” Marie pointed her glass of wine toward the ice. “But I noticed he’s never won the Lady Byng for sportsmanship.”

A live feed replaced the photo, and he raised one hand in a single wave. His green eyes looked upward, and the usual dark scruff covered the lower half of his face. Lexie’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“Holy balls, Dale,” Marie uttered.

Sean was handsome and could take a girl’s breath with just a smile. His touch made her skin tingle and made bad thoughts bounce around her head. “Holy balls” pretty much covered it all, and there was only one thing left to be said, “You’re Dale. I’m Hank Hill.”

“Call me Rusty,” Marie laughed.

Everyone rose for the National Anthem, and Lexie put her hand over her heart as it played. She’d discovered that Sean was an ASPCA member, and he liked Yum Yum enough to let her lick his jacket. More importantly, Yum Yum liked him enough to rest her head on his shoulder and stare up into his face. People thought Lexie and Sean were in love and made a perfect couple, but it was a lie. One she needed to remember.

“Where were we?” Marie asked when they took their seats again.

“When?” If she ever forgot, she was afraid she just might end up beneath him again.

“When you were outlining your memo.”

“Oh.” Now she remembered. “You think I should say something nice about the other women.” She took a sip of her wine, then added, “I’d rather get stung by bees.”

“Yeah, but you gotta do it or you’ll seem like a bitch.” Marie took a drink of merlot as she watched the puck drop. “I mean, look at it from their point of view. You didn’t have sex with him, yet you still won anyway. You got the ring and the big puffy dress that they all wanted. Then you ditched the groom at the altar and ran away with a superhot hockey player. For all they know, he swooped you up and flew you off to get reacquainted on the night you were supposed to start your honeymoon with Pete.”

The idea of starting up anything with Pete made Lexie’s nose wrinkle, and she highly doubted she would have consummated the marriage. As for what went on when they were taping the show—her lawyer had gone over every bit of the contract she signed before she appeared, and there hadn’t been anything in it saying she had to ever have sex with Pete.

Her thoughts were interrupted by action on the ice below. Paul Letestu passed the puck across the ice. In one fluid motion, Sean skated forward, pulled back his stick, and one-timed it on Badaj’s stick side. The Ducks goalie deflected it and the whistle blew.

“Try and think of one thing nice about each girl.” Marie pointed to the notepad. She was clearly not letting this go. “Create a subsection under Gettin’ Hitched bitches.”

Of the many things that Lexie and her best friend had in common, their love of detailed memos was near the top of the list.

Lexie figured that title was apropos. She’d been hurt and astonished, actually, by some of the things the other women had said behind her back and didn’t believe she owed them anything at all. “I don’t know where to even start.” Marie was right, though. Being nice cost her nothing. Looking like a bitch could cost her a lot.

“Start with Cindy Lee from Clearwater. Find something nice to say about her.”

Hmm. Cindy Lee had said Lexie never worked a day in her life. “How about, ‘Cindy Lee isn’t as big a bitch as Davina from Scottsdale?’” Davina had told the confession cam that Lexie looked like Sasquatch with dark roots. “Or that Summer’s teeth aren’t quite as yellow as corn.”

Marie frowned. “You’re not getting the point of this on purpose.”

Once more the whistle blew and it was game on again. Lexie’s gaze skimmed the ice, but she didn’t see number 36. “I get it. I just don’t like it.” She looked toward the Chinooks bench and saw him sandwiched between other players, their attention rapt as they pounded their sticks on the board, chewed on their mouth guards, and spit between their feet. Her dad stood behind them with the other coaches, their arms across their chests, their gazes lasered in on the players passing the puck and dumping it behind the goal.

The two men in her life. She counted on them both. One she loved and trusted with her life. The other she wasn’t even sure she liked. She couldn’t even trust him to follow the carefully outlined, super-easy memo she’d given him.

The whistle blew and the game stopped. “Crazy Train” pumped through the arena and the camera operator panned the crowd, stopping on Lexie and Marie and zooming in on their faces. All aboard, hahaha, Ozzy laughed. On all four fifteen-foot screens, she gave a little wave and smiled.

Another mission accomplished.