Page 43 of Game Plan

He smiles. “You’re right, of course. But being a smart-ass to the GM is usually a bad idea—especially when you haven’t decided whether you’ll retire or negotiate their extension offer.”

Fair.

“My other choice is to say that they’re right, and I do have a fiancée,” he says, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly.

“Why would you do that?” I ask, pulling a knee up and wrapping my arms around it. “That feels like death by publicity.”

He nods. “Yeah, it does. But it could be that either way. If I say Exposé made the whole thing up, the story still has teeth. It’s still juicy. It gives people a reason to keep digging around in my life.” He pauses. “But if I say there’s nothing to see here, then that sort of takes the piss out of it.”

True. Because if he says they’re right, all they will get is the initial scoop since Finn won’t ever interview with them again. It’s clickbait, but it won’t bring them more than a day or two of views. They’ll move on. They always do.

“I guess.” I make a face. “So what are you proposing? Rolling with it and saying you’re engaged?”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and try to appear unfazed by the concept of Finn parading around town with a fake fiancée.

But I am fazed by it. I’m enraged by it. Mount Saint Helens has nothing on the boiling emotions sputtering in my gut at the idea of his PR team setting him up with a model, an actress, or some other wildly attractive woman to pretend to be his soon-to-be wife.

I might have to move. To Antarctica.

“I hate that idea,” I say before I can stop myself. “The season’s starting. You can’t have someone distracting you. And she would distract you, Finn. You have to have time to study tape, and you can’t just go out and eat pizza. You have to rest and … That’s a terrible idea.”

His lip twitches as he cocks a brow. “You’re very passionate about this.”

One shoulder shrugs. I know I’m caught in the act of caring, but he just sprang this on me. Besides, I have way too many hormones that need to be released because he’s refused to do it.

I hope he gets a mean fiancée, and they fight all the time.

Bastard.

He takes a deep breath. “That’s not all of it.”

I grip the armrests to push myself up. “I think I’ve heard enough.”

“There’s also a few million dollars on the table.”

Excuse me? “I’m sorry. What? Why?”

“My agent called, and companies are reaching out about working with me on deals. He said there’s already a jewelry company and a hotel company … and I don’t remember what else. But he expects there to be even more as the day goes on and then tomorrow.”

I blink twice. “That makes absolutely no sense. Are you for real?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit.”

He chuckles. “Apparently, there’s a market for love stories.”

I try to wrap my brain around this. “You live such a weird life, Miller.”

I sigh, wishing that he hadn’t come to me with this. My instincts tell me to make him run away from this as fast as he can. But I know that’s really because I know that’ll benefit me. It’ll make my life easier. In reality, what’s best for him is to take the money.

But what does that entail? Will he have to pose in pictures with someone? Have media campaigns with a stunning future Mrs. Finn Miller on his arm?

The thought makes me want to puke up my French toast sticks from breakfast.

“Well, if you’re wanting my advice, which I guess you do since you’re here, then I say take the money if you can,” I say. “You wanted a payday anyway, and this seems lucrative. If you can figure out how to pull this off, that’s the ticket.”