Collin is lucky he’s like a brother to me because otherwise, there is no way in hell I would ever put up with this shit.
First I have to spend the entire weekend with my teammates in the off-season. Don’t get me wrong, I love these guys, but I also love my me time. And now he’s telling me I have to spend the weekend with the girl who punched me in the face just minutes ago.
Sure, I was in the wrong for pulling into the parking lot with my music blaring like a maniac, but I don’t think that warranted being hit in the face by a stranger.
Especially not in the parking lot of my own business.
I glance over at my attacker. She has her head thrown back laughing at something Emilia, the team’s social media manager, is saying.
Looking at her now without all the mascara running down her face and the crazed look in her eyes, it’s clear I should have picked up on the fact that this is Harper’s sister. It’s obvious they’re related. Their faces are the same shape, and they have the same full lips, the same pert nose. Hell, even their hair color is the same shade of brown. They look like they could be twins instead of having the two-year age gap I know is between them.
And how do I know all this information? Collin. The dude never shuts up about his wife-to-be. But I suppose that’s to be expected when you find your person.
I thought I had found my person once upon a time. Oh, how wrong I was. So very, very, embarrassingly wrong.
Hollis must feel my gaze because she glances over at me, and that smile she was wearing is replaced by a deep frown in a matter of milliseconds. The change is so drastic it makes me laugh. Which of course pisses her off even more. It’s like she’s annoyed by my mere existence.
She glares at me, and my smile pulls even wider. I chuckle when she turns her back to me completely.
We did several run-throughs for the wedding tomorrow, and each time I had to link arms with Hollis, she grew stiffer and stood farther away from me. It didn’t take long for Harper to pick up on it, and she pulled Hollis aside. I have no idea what they talked about, but when we ran through it for the fourth time, it was much smoother.
Now that we’re done practicing, Hollis is back to being ice cold. Funny, because I should be the one who is upset given the circumstances of our introduction.
“Having fun yet?”
My teammate Rhodes slides up next to me. He takes a sip from his champagne glass, then lets out a long sigh like he’s as exhausted by all of this as I am. Which is even funnier knowing that out of all of us, he’s the one who has been married the most times.
I glance at the scar on his face, and I momentarily feel bad because even after all this time of knowing him, it’s still the first thing my eyes drift to. I guess when you have a scar from right under your eye down your cheek and slicing through your lips and it’s as marred and jagged as his, it’s kind of expected.
If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes another drink, looking out at the small crowd in front of us. There aren’t many people, only around twenty-five, but it feels like a hundred with how badly I don’t want to be here right now.
I grunt in response to his question.
He laughs. “You look like you’re having about as much fun as I do in crowds.”
One of our best defensemen on the Carolina Comets, Adrian Rhodes isn’t exactly known for being social. He’s as notorious for skipping out on interviews as he is for his stats on the ice. He doesn’t do press, and he certainly doesn’t do crowds.
Hell, before his wife, Ryan, came along, we had to fight tooth and nail to get the dude to go have a beer with us—his own teammates—after a game. While we do still have to coax him into coming out more often than not, there have been many times in the last year that he’s said yes without us prodding too hard.
But still, the dude hates crowds. For me, it’s not so much the crowds; it’s just the event.
“I’m just glad Ryan didn’t make me wear a tie. I get enough of that during the season.”
Fuck, he’s telling me. If I could burn my suit and tie, I would. I know some guys love dressing up for games, but I am not one of them. Which is exactly why I wore a pair of dark jeans and a button-up shirt. I already have to dress up for this event tomorrow. I’m not doing it today too.
“Man, I’m glad we never had to go through all this formal shit for our wedding.”
“I mean, to be fair, you did get married in Vegas…twice.”
He grins like he’s thinking back on it. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Even the first time?”
“Especially the first time. It led me to Ryan.”
I grimace at the lovey-doveyness of it all.
Rhodes takes notice and chuckles at my discomfort. “You know, it’s kind of funny that as a guy who hates relationships so much, you co-own one of the hottest wedding venues with your sister.”
“Trust me, I see the irony in it as well.”
Not too long ago, my younger sister, Stacie, came to me with the idea of opening a wedding venue next to the brewery we own together in my hometown, which just happens to be about two hours from the arena I play at.
I’ll admit, it took some convincing for me to be on board with the wedding venue idea. We’re a brewery—why did we need to host weddings? But when it became clear to me that it was something she was passionate about, I thought it was fair that I support her. After all, she gave up a lot of her childhood for my dreams and aspirations of playing professional hockey.
So, we tossed up a new building and connected the two with a huge outdoor seating area that’s easily transformed into the perfect outdoor reception setting.
I never thought I’d be hosting my teammate’s wedding here, but Harper fell in love with the place not even knowing it was my business since it’s not really something I advertise. I’m more of a silent co-owner, especially during the hockey season. She was more than thrilled when I gave them the friends and family discount—meaning I didn’t charge them a dime—on the venue. So, for them to be torturing me with all this other bullshit is really unfair.
It’s nothing against Collin and Harper. I’m happy for them. What they have seems to be one of the rare occurrences—something real. Just like what Ryan and Rhodes have.
No, my problem has to do with my disdain of relationships in general.
Love and me? We don’t get along too well.
My sister thinks I’m being stubborn and that I need to just move on. That’s easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one who was tricked into believing she got a woman pregnant, proposed, announced to the world he proposed, then found out it was all fake and nothing but a trap to get his pro-hockey money.
A trap I fell right fucking into too.
The worst part? I actually thought I was in love with her…and I know I was in love with the baby that never existed. I didn’t just mourn the loss of my relationship; I mourned the loss of a future that was never really mine, and I am not about to hurl myself into another relationship. Getting burned like that once was enough for me, thanks.
So I keep it light and casual in that department. The one-timer isn’t just good for the ice. It’s pretty much how I get by.
“Okay, serious question, did anyone else notice the lack of babes at this thing?”
We both turn toward Miller, who is scanning the crowd with a frown.
“First”—Rhodes smacks him across the back of his head—“no. Stop trying to pick up women. Second, don’t say babes. It’s weird.”
“First, ow. You ass.” Miller rubs at the spot. “Second, I’m not trying to pick up women right now. I’m just scouting.”
“Scouting?”
“For tomorrow,” he elaborates.
I roll my eyes. “You’re exhausting.”
“And horny. So very horny. Lonely too.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure your right palm isn’t,” Rhodes comments, not even bothering to hide his smirk behind his champagne flute.
“Exactly! That’s my problem.” He holds said hand up. “It’s getting tired. I’m pretty sure it’s calloused—look!”
“I’d really rather not discuss your masturbation issues, Miller,” I say to him.
“Would you rather talk about why you were late? Were you the one masturbating?”
I glare at him. “Hardly.”
Not that I’d ever admit as much to the idiot, but I can sympathize with him. My dick has seen my palm more than it’s seen a pussy in the last year or so.
But that’s been by choice. After winning the Cup, I wanted to take another run at it, and I knew I couldn’t get us far if I didn’t focus. So that’s what I did. I played hockey and took every other distraction off the table.
Clearly, it wasn’t enough. We got knocked out of the playoffs in the second round.
But I don’t want to dwell on that now.
“Why were you late though?” Rhodes asks. “Didn’t want to come?” Bingo. “Even I beat you here, which never happens. You’re always first.”
He’s right; it’s not like me to flake on stuff. I’m usually the first on the ice in the morning and the last to leave every day and after every game.
“Got held up in the parking lot.”
He cocks a questioning brow. “The parking lot? Here?”
“Yep. Don’t you know I’m trespassing?”
I feel like I should be more upset about the whole encounter, but thinking back on how utterly insane Hollis looked standing outside my window with mascara streaks running down her cheeks, I can’t help but laugh.
“On your own property?” Rhodes asks, looking just as confused as I was when I was accosted.
“Apparently so.”
“That sounds…”
“Completely crazy? Yeah, I know. Tell that to the nut who assaulted me in the parking lot.”
“Someone assaulted you in the parking lot?”
“Not just any someone. Harper’s sister.”
Miller—in his typical dramatic fashion—gasps. “No way.”
“Yep. Clocked me right in the face.”
“So, I know she’s supposed to be your girl and all, so you get first dibs, but does this mean you don’t have a chance with her? Is she available, then?” Rhodes and I both give him an incredulous look. “What? She’s hot!”
“Hot or not, she’s crazy.”
He shrugs. “Crazy can be fun.”
“What is wrong with you? I just told you she assaulted me.”
“Oh my gosh! I did not assault you! It was an accident!”
I turn around to find Hollis standing there. She has one hand on her hip, her lips pressed tightly together as she stares down at me with eyes full of ire.
I lied earlier when I said she’s dressed like she has a stick up her ass. Yeah, sure, her dress covers all of her assets and then some, but it definitely hugs her in all the right places too. It’s sexy in an understated sort of way, especially now that she’s washed her makeup off.
Frankly, she’s beautiful, and it’s distracting as hell.
And annoying, because I don’t want to find her attractive. She’s crazy.
Huh. Maybe Miller has a point about crazy after all…
“You really did hit him?” Miller holds his hand up to high-five her. “Nice! He probably deserved it.”
She ignores his hand, keeping her eyes on me. “I obviously didn’t know who you were.”
“And you didn’t bother trying to find out either. You just assumed I didn’t belong. Why? Because of my vehicle?”
“That thing is a total piece of shit,” Rhodes chimes in.
I’ll admit it—my truck isn’t in the best of shape. But it’s the same damn truck I’ve had since the moment I turned sixteen, and I’m not ready to let her die yet. Even though I can afford a better vehicle—hell, I could afford multiple better ones—I can’t give her up. She’s been good to me, and I feel like I owe it to her to keep her going.
“I—I…” she sputters. “Well, I—”
“You what? Judged me? Jumped to conclusions?”
“No! Yes!”
“Well, which is it? No or yes?”
“Both.”
“Tell me, do you assault everyone who you don’t know based on the conclusions you’ve jumped to? You know, come to think of it, there was a lot of force behind that punch. Seemed kind of premeditated to me.”
Her eyes narrow, her hand balling up at her side. “Oh, trust me, if I’d meant to hit you, you’d know it.”
I don’t know this woman at all, but something tells me she just might be telling the truth. She might appear to be a little buttoned up, but from that spitfire attitude she showed out in the parking lot, I’d say she’s anything but.
“Somehow I doubt that, darlin’,” I find myself saying just to taunt her.
The way her jaw works back and forth is a sign she doesn’t like that one bit.
Now, normally, I have really good reflexes. You don’t become an NHL player without them. I can usually read people really well. Again, pro-hockey player. It’s just a skill set that comes with playing the game.
But nowhere, not once in all my years of training and playing a sport professionally, have I ever been prepared for this moment.
As if it’s happening in slow motion and I’m in the audience watching it unfold on the big screen, Hollis lifts her champagne flute…and splashes the liquid directly in my face.
Miller and Rhodes jump back just in time, leaving me standing there soaked and pissed off.
Hollis takes a step toward me, her eyes cloudy and angrier than I’ve seen them yet—which is saying something. When she pushes up on her toes, our noses are nearly touching.
It’s then that I notice one key difference between her and Harper—their eyes.
Pools of dark blue filled with rage stare back at me.
But it’s not just any dark blue, and it’s not just rage. There’s a deep lonely sadness swimming in there too.
For a moment, a part of me forgets everything that happened in the parking lot and that I’m covered in champagne. For a moment, all I feel is complete empathy for her. I know what that deep sadness feels like, and I don’t like that she’s feeling it.
“I. Am not. Your. Darlin’.”
Hollis spins on her heel and stomps away, the entire room bouncing their eyes between me and her retreating back, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
“Dude,” Rhodes hisses in my ear. “What the fuck did you do to her?”
I run my hand down my face to wipe it clean, shaking the excess champagne off my fingers. A few guests glare at me for getting droplets on them, but I don’t really care. Apparently, I have a bigger problem.
“I think I just pissed off my date for the weekend.”
“Yeah, I’d say.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Incoming.”
He dips his head toward the other side of the room where Collin is charging my way as his soon-to-be wife beelines for the exit, running after her sister. He doesn’t stop until he’s directly in front of me, his nose flaring with anger. I’ve only seen him like this one other time, and that time, he landed himself in handcuffs.
I hold my hand up to stop him. “Save it. I’m not in the mood.”
He steps toward me anyway, ignoring my hand. “I don’t give two shits if you’re in the mood or not. I also don’t care what that was all about. All I care about is that you fucking fix it and you fucking fix it fast.”
With a sigh, I give him one terse nod, then head in the same direction Harper and Hollis went, trying my best to ignore all the curious stares and murmurs from the other guests.
Part of me understands his frustration with me. If somebody came to my sister’s wedding and screwed it up like I just did, I’d probably react the same way.
But none of this is actually my fault. I’m not the one who was acting like a crazy person. I’m not the one who was judging whether or not somebody belonged here. I’m not the one who was hitting. I’m not the one who threw champagne in somebody’s face.
Okay, fine. I poked and prodded a bit, but still. Little dramatic, no?
I step into the hallway, and my eyes immediately go to two figures at the end of it. Hollis and Harper are huddled together, Harper with her arms around her big sister, consoling her. Hollis is crying, that much is obvious. Her shoulders are shaking with her sobs, and they aren’t exactly quiet.
I’m starting to suspect I had very little to do with her outburst in both the parking lot and just now. It makes me feel bad because something else is clearly going on.
The strangest urge to walk down the hall and comfort her comes over me, and it stops me dead in my tracks.
My shoes squeak against the floor, and Harper’s eyes meet mine at the sound. She narrows her eyes, shaking her head to stop me from coming any closer. She pulls away from Hollis, then mutters something to her that I can’t quite make out from here. Whatever she says, it has Hollis nodding and wiping at her eyes.
Hollis gives her sister one last squeeze before rushing out the front door without so much as a backward glance. Harper watches her go for a moment before turning on me and stalking back down the hallway with the angriest look I’ve ever seen from her. She only stands at around five foot five, tiny compared to my six-foot-three stature, but fuck is she scary-looking right now.
I open my mouth to apologize to her, but when she holds her hand up, I snap it closed.
“Whatever apology or dispute you’re about to send my way, save it for Hollis tomorrow. She’s going through a lot right now and doesn’t need any more drama tonight.” She takes another step toward me. “But if I find out tomorrow that you did not apologize to my sister, there will be hell to pay, and I watch a lot of horror movies, so I know a lot of good places to hide a body where they won’t find you for years.”
I don’t really doubt that she’s telling the truth.
So, I nod. “Understood.”
“Good. Now let’s get back to the party. For, you know, my wedding tomorrow.”
With one last glare, she brushes past me.
And I know this long weekend just got a whole lot longer.
