Page 90 of Slapshot Bride

Me.

Riley.

The parking lot outside Valentina's, my hand at the small of her back as Riley turns toward me, leaving no doubt who she's with because, this time, both of our faces are perfectly visible.

I open the article.

BLAKE’S NEW CATCH: LA Ice star Easton Blake seen with Preston Sinclair’s runaway bride. An affair with the troubled fiancée?

The story isn't written to expose me. It's written to frame me. Preston is the wronged party. Riley is his troubled ex. I'm the man she's currently staying with.

The headline says all I need to know.

He wrote this. He engineered this. His power move to pull Riley out of hiding.

I close my eyes.

There is a soft knock on the greenhouse door behind me. I turn. It's Elena, the greenhouse manager. Her face is careful.

“Mr. Blake. There are photographers outside the front gate. About a dozen of them. They started arriving twenty minutes ago. The gate is holding, but they are climbing the fence for a shot. There is a back exit through the service drive that comes out on the fire road. Your car won't fit. You can use mine if you need to leave right away.”

My legs move before I can fully process her words. And there’s only one word on my mind.

Cover.

I need to get Riley out of here before all hell breaks loose.

“How long do I have?”

“Now.” Her eyes flick toward the front of the gallery. “You have now.”

The concern on her face tells me everything I need to know.

I look at Riley.

She's still in the back corner. Still shooting. She has not looked up.

She's inside the one place she goes where the rest of the world stops existing for her, and I'm about to walk over there and take it from her.

I cross the greenhouse.

She turns before I reach her. Something in the way I'm walking, I think. Her nose scrunches in a frown.

“Bored? I’m sorry I got too in my head and forgot all about you.” She smiles apologetically.

Oh, my sweet girl.

“We need to go.” It feels like my heart is being cracked open as I watch the smile fall off her gorgeous face.

“W-why?”

“I’ll explain in the car. But, we need to leave now.”

She looks around, then at Elena. Slowly, she rises to her feet. I grab her hand and gently pull her forward, moving a step ahead just to make sure she won’t be visible first, if we run into any of the paparazzi outside.

Elena is already waiting by the back door, and moments later we're in her little Honda, speeding down the service road before Riley has a chance to ask the question I can see forming on her lips.

About a mile down the fire road, Elena pulls over.