We paid and left the store, neither of us uttering a word. When we got in the car, I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. I didn’t know what had happened between the store and now, but the mood had grown noticeably colder.

   “Chloe?” I said cautiously.

   “Blake.”

   “Chloe?”

   “Blake.”

   “Chloe?”

   “Just give me a minute,” she said. “I’m trying to think!”

   I sank into my seat. And I waited.

   “Blake?” she finally said.

   “Yes, Chloe?”

   She faced me. Then moved her eyes from side to side, as if she was about to share a huge secret. I sat up straighter and turned to her.

   “How big a deal are you?” she whispered.

   My lips curved into a smile.

   “This isn’t funny, Blake. I mean, I looked you up. I knew you were good, but that guy in that store—that you’ve probably never been to before—he knew you. That means you must be a somebody, right?”

   I shrugged.

   “Oh my God,” she mumbled under her breath. “And offers? It wasn’t just Duke?”

   I tried to contain my smile. She was so damn cute.

   “How many offers?”

   I shrugged again.

   “You’re not talking to me?”

   I shook my head. It wasn’t like earlier, when my emotions had gripped me, and the words hadn’t been there. I just liked messing with her and watching her get more nervous with each question.

   She squinted as she took me in. I didn’t know what she was looking for, but whatever it was, she must’ve found it, because her eyes went huge. “You’re like . . . a celebrity!”

   The notion was so crazy it made me laugh. “I’m not a celebrity!”

   “You are so!” She nodded frantically. “A sports celebrity!” Her hands covered the squeal that escaped her. “Oh my God.” She pushed open her door and stepped out of the car. “I’ve kidnapped a sports celebrity! I’m going to hell. Or worse. Jail.” She was pacing and rambling. “I’m going to sports jail. Where all the sports fans are going to throw rocks at the girl who stole their sports-celebrity-hero-god.”

   I dissolved in a fit of laughter.

   “This isn’t funny!” she yelled, but I couldn’t stop.

   When we got back to the hotel, I changed and went for a run. I asked her to come with me. She laughed in my face and told me that she’d rather poke herself in the eye with a pen than be seen running with a sports god.

   It was another quick run. I thought I’d be gone for ages, but the second after I’d left the hotel, I just wanted to get back to Chloe.

   “Your mom’s been calling. I think you need to . . .” Her words died in the air as she took me in. I had taken my shirt off midrun, because I was so sweaty. She’d seen me shirtless before but probably not like this. She blushed and looked away, pretending to be engrossed with whatever was on TV.

   I took a seat next to her and started to take off my shoes. “Did you answer?”

   She pursed her lips and shook her head.

   “How many times did she call?”

   She shrugged, refusing to meet my eyes.

   I ran the back of my finger along her bare thigh, trying to get her attention. “What did you do while I was gone?”

   She stood up quickly. “Nothing. I’m making coffee. You want some?”

   I laughed under my breath. “Yeah. I’m just gonna shower real quick.”

   “I might um . . . go . . . I’ll be back . . . You shower.” Then she picked up her keys and left the room.

   And I couldn’t wipe the damn smile off my face.

   She must not have been gone for long, because by the time I’d finished my shower, she was back. Admittedly, I’d had a long shower. A nice, long, cold shower.

   I sat out on the balcony and dialed Mom’s number. “Blake?” she answered. She sounded pissed.

   Chloe came out with two coffees. She set them both on the table and started to walk away. I curled my arm around her waist and brought her down on my lap. She didn’t resist. “Hey, Ma.”

   “You didn’t come home last night. Your car is still at the bowling alley, and Josh won’t tell me what happened! Where the hell are you?”

   I frowned. “Don’t be mad.”

   “Never start a sentence with that, especially with your mother!”

   I switched the phone to speaker and placed it on the table. Chloe turned to me, biting her lip. She looked scared. I was scared. “I’ve kind of . . . left.”

   “Left!” she shrieked. “What do you mean, you’ve left?”

   “I’m with Chloe,” I said, as if it was a valid reason for my actions. “She was leaving, and I left with her. I had to. I’m sorry.”

   “HUNTER!” she screamed.

   We both flinched.

   But then she started to laugh. It started low, then built up to something she couldn’t control. I started to get worried. Maybe she was crazy. It wouldn’t surprise me—being cooped up in that guesthouse all day, making up stories could do that to a person, right?

   “Ma?”

   She laughed harder.

   Chloe tried to get up, but I held on to her tighter.

   Mom finally stopped laughing long enough to sigh. “Oh, Blake,” she said. “I’ve never been so damn proud of you in my life.”

   “What?” Chloe and I said at the same time.

   “Is that Chloe? Is she there?”

   “Yes, Mrs. Hunter, I’m here.”

   “Good,” she said. “I want to speak to both of you.”

   Chloe’s eyes went wide.

   “Okay?” I said.

   “Okay,” she repeated. I imagined her rolling her shoulders back, trying to calm herself down. “I need to wire some money to you. It might take a few days—”

   “No,” we both cut in.

   Then Chloe spoke over me. “We don’t need the money. I have enough.”

   “That’s rubbish.” Mom’s words were final. “I’m sitting on piles of it, and I have no use for it. I live in a guesthouse, for Christ’s sake. Blake, are you there? Blake!”