Blue Line

An Orlando Storm Novel

Marissa James

Copyright © 2026 by Marissa James

Cover Designer: Jordan Burns Designs

Editor: Laura Williams Editorial

Proofreader: Ashley McLeod

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without written permission from the author or publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in reviews or articles. No portion of this book is to be used to train generative AI technologies and machine learning language models.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, businesses and plot are product of the author’s imagination and meant to be used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual living persons, living or dead or actual events throughout the story are purely coincidental. The names of NHL teams have been changed to fictitious names.

The following story contains sexual situations and strong language. It is intended for adult readers.

Contents

Synopsis

1. Hadley

2. Wes

3. Hadley

4. Wes

5. Hadley

6. Wes

7. Hadley

8. Wes

9. Hadley

10. Wes

11. Hadley

12. Wes

13. Hadley

14. Wes

15. Hadley

16. Wes

17. Hadley

18. Wes

19. Hadley

20. Wes

21. Hadley

22. Wes

23. Hadley

24. Wes

25. Hadley

26. Hadley

27. Wes

28. Hadley

29. Wes

30. Hadley

31. Wes

32. Hadley

33. Wes

34. Hadley

35. Wes

36. Wes

37. Hadley

38. Hadley

39. Wes

Epilogue

Line Change: Chapter One

Acknowledgements

Also by Marissa James

About the Author

Synopsis

One night. That was the deal. But things never go according to plan.

I’m not looking for love. Every relationship ends with the guy leaving me for their soulmate.

Then I come face to face with an ex-boyfriend and his fiancée. He makes me feel like I’m not doing anything with my life. So I tell a white lie, that I’m also engaged.

It backfires when I’m invited to his engagement party. Now I need a fake fiancé.

Enter Weston Reynolds, my brother’s best friend and teammate—the guy I’ve secretly had a crush on for years. 

Except news of our “engagement” leaks, resulting in endorsement deals for Weston, and he asks me to keep up our ruse for the rest of the offseason. 

The more time I spend with him, the more the lines between fake and real blur. I think he might be my forever, but I don’t know if I’m his.

Content Warning: Contains mentions of parents death (off page) including brief mentions of how they died. Discussions of side characters being pregnant and having their babies.

Tropes: Sports (Hockey), Fake Engagement, Brother’s Best Friend/Teammate’s Sister, and Found Family.

Intended for audiences 18+. Contains open door spice.

Chapter one

Hadley

I groan, hitting the Undo button for the fifth time in as many minutes. I sat down to edit the photos I took on my birthday trip to Vegas a few months ago, thinking it would be a simple and quick task. But boy was I wrong.

I mean, there’s not a whole lot of images, most of them just need small adjustments or a little bit of cropping, but I can’t get them to look right. No matter what I do, there’s something still not right.

I’m currently working on a photo I snapped from my hotel room window overlooking the Strip. I assumed it would only need a few minor tweaks. I’ve tried changing the brightness, the contrast, and a few other settings, but nothing seems right. Sighing, I exit out of the photo, clicking No when it asks if I want to save my changes.

“Why would I want to save them? They’re awful,” I mutter.

Great, now I’m talking to my laptop. I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom. The bedroom I’ve been occupying since I got back from my birthday trip, which was also my brother Holt’s last hockey game of the season and the end of my job as his daughter’s nanny. Now, I’m back in Ontario, in my childhood room, with no prospects, nothing lined up. I’m a twenty-six-year-old failure.

Wonderful.

“Knock knock.” Holt’s voice sounds from the doorway, and I startle, sitting up straight in my chair. “Everything okay in here?” He frowns, opening his mouth, probably to ask what’s wrong, but I don’t give him the chance.

“Yep. Yep. Taking a break from editing a few photos from our trip. What’s up?”

He eyes me for a second, and I think he’s going to call me on my bullshit, but he doesn’t.

“Want to go to the grocery store? Mom’s making lasagna for dinner and asked me to pick up a few things. Figured you might want to get out of the house …”

“I’m in.” I put my laptop to sleep. “Just need to put shoes on.”

“Okay. Meet you downstairs.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks out of my room.

I throw my sneakers on and grab my phone and wallet. Maybe a break from editing will help clear out whatever cobwebs have taken root in my head. Editing photos should not be this hard. Being a photographer is what I want to do with my life, and editing the photos I take is part of it, so why can’t I get it right?

I didn’t have any problems a few months ago after I took all those photographs at the horse show in Ocala. They turned out fantastic. The woman who hired me even sent me a picture of one she’d had framed and hung in her office.

Maybe I’m in a creative funk. That happens, right? I’m sure it does. Probably normal to experience it from time to time. Hopefully, it goes away on its own.

I shove the thoughts away as I climb into the backseat of my dad’s SUV, Holt and Weston Reynolds—his best friend who came to visit for a few weeks—sitting up front. They start talking about hockey, and I tune them out, staring out the window at the passing scenery and definitely not thinking about the photographs on my laptop taunting me.

“I’m going to go get the pasta and sauce. You get the meat,” I tell my brother, hooking a thumb over my shoulder when we step into the grocery store a few minutes later.

Weston disappeared without a backward glance, probably headed to the bakery. That man has a sweet tooth the size of Florida.

“K. Get extra noodles. And the pasta sauce with the mushrooms. Mom said they’re going to make two pans.”

I gag.

Mushrooms? Yeah, no.

“On it.” I push the cart toward the aisle I need and come to a halt in front of the pasta, scanning for the boxes of lasagna noodles.

“Bingo.”

I grab two and place them in the cart. I tilt my head. Do we need a third? We probably do. Just in case, I grab another box before moving down a few feet to the sauces. I scan the shelves, contemplating my options.

“Hadley.”

I stiffen. What the hell is he doing here? He’s supposed to be in Vancouver, living his fucking best life.

I turn, coming face-to-face with Henry, my ex, holding hands with a blonde woman.

“Hi, Hadley.”

“Hey, Henry.”

He clears his throat, gesturing to the woman at his side. “This is Beth. My fiancée.”

The words hang between us as I stare at the two of them. We broke up eight months ago, last September. And he’s already engaged? No way was he cheating on me; he was respectful to the point of it being annoying. I never thought that was possible, but it was. I explicitly told him I wanted him to take charge in bed, that I’d tell him if I didn’t like something, yet he constantly asked if what he was doing was okay or if I was okay. It killed the mood. I’m all for consent and making sure your partner is enjoying themselves, but when someone tells you to take charge, take fucking charge. He just never got it. Not that it matters now, since we’re not together.

My stomach sinks.

Yet another ex of mine who broke up with me and went on to find his soulmate. The guy I dated before Henry was married six months after we broke up. According to Social, his wife is pregnant now. Same with two of my exes before him. Hand to heart, I can’t make this shit up.

“Hadley?” he repeats.

“Sorry.” I hold out my hand to Beth. “Nice to meet you.”

“How are you doing? Still doing the photography thing?” he asks, glancing around.

“I’m good. Visiting for the summer. Yep, still a photographer.”

“Nice.” I can hear the sarcasm in his voice, but I ignore it. “Where are you living now?”

“Orlando.” No way am I admitting to him that I moved back in with my parents.

“With your brother? Or …”

There’s pity in his voice, and I hate it. I hate that he thinks I have to rely on my brother. I hate it so much. Which is probably why I don’t think before I speak.

“Actually, I’m engaged too. I met my fiancé through my brother. They’re teammates. Hence, being in Orlando.”

“Oh.” His eyes flash to my left hand. My naked left hand.

“My ring’s getting sized. He knows how to do a lot of things well.” I bounce my eyebrows. “Picking out the right ring size for me is not one of them.”

Why the fuck did you say that?

Stop talking.

“Well, congratulations. Is he here with you?”

“Umm.” Shit.

“I meant here in Ontario.”

“Oh, yeah. All of us came up to celebrate my engagement.”

“That’s why we’re here too.” He gestures between himself and Beth. “We’re having our engagement party next weekend. You should come.”

I shake my head. “While I appreciate the invite, I don’t think I can.”

“Please.” He draws the word out, clasping his hands together in front of him. I bite the inside of my lip to hold in the grimace. “My parents would love to see you. My mom still has the photo you took of me framed in the house. I know she’d love to see you. Everyone would love to see you. Catch up. You haven’t been home in a while.” I haven’t been home in a while? He’s the one who moved to Vancouver. And who is everyone? He can’t be talking about our old group of friends. He didn’t even keep up with them when we were dating. He prattles on. “It’s settled. We’ll see you at the party. I still have your number. I’ll text you all the details.”

“I-I-” I stammer, but he’s already walking away, his fiancée in tow.

“Shit,” I mutter.

“You think?” Holt asks from behind me.

I whirl around. “How long have you been standing there?”

He scoffs, holding out two packages of ground beef. “Long enough. You’re engaged? Really, Hadley? You couldn’t have just said congratulations?”

“Hush,” I snap. “It just came out. I wasn’t thinking.” I grab the meat from him and put it in the cart.

He snorts. “So, what’s your plan?” He puts his hands on his hips, surveying me, and I roll my eyes.

“There you guys are,” Weston says, rounding the corner and heading toward us, his arms laden with a package of chocolate chip cookies, a pie, and two tubs of ice cream. “Picked us up a good dessert spread.”

I rub my hands together as a plan falls into place.

“Don’t, Hadley,” Holt warns as if he can read my mind, but I ignore him.

“Hey, Weston,” I sing-song when he sets his cache of desserts into the cart.

“Hey, Hadley Jane.” He frowns. “I don’t like that look on your face.” He trades glances with Holt before turning his attention back to me.

“Hadley,” Holt warns again.

“Weston, I need a favor.” I bat my lashes.

Holt groans. “Can we not discuss this here, please?”

“Fine. Fine,” I tell my brother, reaching over and grabbing the jarred pasta sauce.

“What about the mushroom one?” Holt protests.

“No. Mushrooms are gross.”

He sticks out his lower lip, pretending to pout. I can’t help the grin that breaks out on my face. It’s nice to see my brother so relaxed and happy. Being in love and being a dad agree with him.

“I agree with Hadley Jane,” Weston pipes up.

Shocker. Hell must have frozen over. Are pigs flying?

I bite back my retort because I need Weston’s help. The last thing I want to do right now is rile him up. Although it’s so fun to do it.

“Fine,” Holt concedes. “What else do we need?”

I consult the list on my phone, comparing it to the items in the shopping cart. “That’s all.”

“Let’s go.” Holt starts making his way down the aisle toward the front of the store.

“Wanna tell me what I missed earlier?” Weston whispers as we walk side by side.

“I’ll tell you when we get back to the house,” I whisper back.

I say a silent prayer that my big mouth doesn’t get me into trouble and that he’ll agree to my proposal, and also that I never run into my ex again after this party.

Chapter two

Wes

The entire time we stand in line and then while we check out, I wonder what Hadley’s going to ask me—what I missed while I was picking out desserts. Whatever it is, Holt doesn’t like it. Knowing him, it could be something as simple as her wanting to change the laundry detergent their parents buy. He may be my best friend, but goalies are fucking weird, and he’s no exception. Although I highly doubt it’s that simple—if it were, she wouldn’t need a favor from me. No, this is something else entirely.

Hadley is an enigma I can’t figure out. She’s my best friend’s little sister. She was his rock when he first found out he had a daughter, coming to stay with him in Florida to be his nanny for the remainder of the season. Taking care of Hazel, his daughter, and him, no questions asked.

But there’s something else hidden beneath the surface that I don’t think anyone else sees. Hell, I don’t even know if she realizes it. But I see it because I feel it too. Like I’m gradually becoming an outsider with the people closest to me. Like I don’t really fit in anymore.

I don’t blame my friends—they’re all getting married or at least partnered off. After this summer, three of my closest friends will be fathers. They’ll all have their own families to go home to at the end of a long road trip or a grueling day of practice.

And I’ll have no one.

I should be used to it by now.

I’ve never had anyone to go home to since I live alone. But now the guys are over less. The quietness of my apartment is even worse. Not that I blame them. But it’s still hard.

Maybe that’s why I jumped at the chance to come to Ontario with Holt and his family for a few weeks this summer. And maybe it’s why I’m so intrigued by whatever Hadley needs to talk to me about. Or maybe I’m secretly hoping to spend more time with her, just the two of us? Nope. Stop. Hadley is my best friend’s sister. I can’t go there.

“Weston Arthur,” Hadley says as if she knows I’m thinking about her.

I glance at her in the backseat of Holt’s dad’s SUV. “Not my middle name, Hadley Jane.”

“So tell me what it is,” she sasses.

“Nope.” As much as I pretend to be annoyed, I enjoy her game of trying to rile me up and figure out my middle name. More fun than telling her the truth—that I don’t have a middle name, at least not really.

“That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” I fire back.

“Fuck you, Weston.”

I snort. “I’m sure you'd like to.”

“Children,” Holt barks. “Enough.”

“Yes, Dad,” I say.

“Sorry, Daddy. Won’t happen again,” Hadley mumbles.

I swear my dick twitched hearing her say Daddy, even if it was in jest and directed at her older brother.

Nope.

Nope.

I am not turned on by that. Not at all turned on by thinking about Hadley calling me that as she obediently slides down onto her knees and stares up at me, probably wishing she hadn’t sassed me. Because now she’s going to be sucking my cock, gagging on it, until I say otherwise. Taking it in her naughty little mouth that doesn’t know when to stop talking. It’s the only way I know I’d be able to get her to shut up.

Now my dick really is getting hard.

Defense plays.

Smelly hockey gear.

Slamming guys into the boards.

Fights.

I blow out a breath as my dick finally calms the fuck down.

“You okay?” Holt asks.

Thank goodness he’s staring straight ahead and not at me, and didn’t notice the half boner I was sporting a few seconds ago while thinking about gagging his sister with my dick.

Nope.

Not that again.

“Fine,” I manage to say, clearing my throat. “Still tired from the end of the season.”

It’s the truth. Even though the last game was a few weeks ago, my body still hasn’t fully recovered. Nothing new. That’s what happens when you play as many games as we do over the course of a season.

“Same, brother, same.”

“Thanks again for inviting me to come with you to visit your folks.”

“Of course. We’re always happy to have you tag along. My parents love having a full house.” He frowns. “I think they always wanted more kids, a bigger family.” He shakes his head. “Mom sees you like another son. Honestly, I think she sees the entire team that way.”

I love Momma Abbott. She gives the best hugs and makes a mean cheesecake. “Thanks. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

I don’t know if anyone does; even I hadn’t realized how much it meant to me until recently.

He glances over at me before focusing back on the road. “You sure you only want to stay two weeks and not longer?”

“Yeah. I wanna be home when Mads and Aubs have their babies.” Madison, who’s married to our best friend and team captain, Hunter, is pregnant with their first child. And a few weeks before she’s due, Aubrey, who’s married to our other best friend and now assistant coach, Brody, is due with their first baby. I’m so excited for two more Storm babies to love on and spoil the way I spoil Hazel.

He chuckles. “It’s the end of May. Aubrey’s due in mid-June and Madison in late July. I highly doubt either one of them will be this early. You could stay an extra week or so and still be home in time.”

“I know, but I figured Hunt or Brod might want an extra person around. Someone to hang with their wives while they run errands or work out.”

“I’m sure they’ll both appreciate it.”

We lapse into silence, and I try to quiet the voice in my head that tells me my time with my friends is limited. That as Hazel gets older, Holt will be around less and less, spending more time with his daughter and girlfriend. How the other guys will be busy with their children. And, yes, there are still a few single guys on the team, and we’re friends, but it’s not the same. I don’t have the same type of friendship with them that I do with my three best friends. Holt, Brody, Hunter, and I have played together for many seasons now; we’re close. Although Brody resisted my friendship for years, preferring to be the broody loner, he’s come around.

“We’re here,” Holt announces as he pulls into his parents’ driveway and parks the car.

As we’re walking into the house, Hadley snags my arm, and I have to force myself not to react. My skin feels as if it’s on fire where she’s touching me. It feels like electricity is coursing through my body.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Oh, that’s right. I’ve been in love with my best friend’s sister since the day I met her at the beach three years ago.

“Can we talk?” Hadley asks, and her tone has me concerned, her usual sass gone. This is serious Hadley, and I don’t like it.

“Of course. Did I do something wrong?” I scan her face for any hint of what’s going on.

I thought the bantering was all in good fun, but maybe I went too far. I think back to the conversation in the car, replaying it all and trying to figure out what might have crossed a line.

“I need a favor.”

Chapter three

Hadley

“A favor?” Weston asks, glancing at my hand still resting on his arm.

Shit.

I snatch it away so fast you would have thought it was on fire. And in some ways, it was. But we’re not going there.

“Yes, Weston, Whatever the Fuck Your Middle Name is, Reynolds.” I wave a hand around. “A favor.”

He raises an eyebrow. “It’s going to cost you, Hadley Jane.”

I huff out a breath. “You haven’t even heard what it is. For all you know, I need you to kill a bug in my bedroom or untie a knot.”

“I know that’s not what you’re going to ask me to do. You could easily ask your brother or your father.”

I put my hands on my hips, glaring at him. “Weston.”

“Fine. After I help your brother put these away.” He holds up the grocery bags in his hands. “And see if your mom and Becca need help with dinner.”

I soften at his words. He might drive me up the fucking wall sometimes, but Weston is a good man. A great man. A man I would love to date.

But I won’t.

Because I’m not good enough for him. Besides, he’s the one guy who I think breaking up with would absolutely break my heart. I’ve been sad when my relationships have ended, but there’s something about Weston Reynolds that makes me think dating him and then breaking up with him would destroy me. And I can’t go there.

I mean, he’d probably go on to meet the woman he’s meant to marry, which I guess would be good for him. But not good for me. So I’ll keep my fantasies about him tying me up tucked away for late nights when the house is asleep and I pull out my vibrating friend. And ignore the crush I’ve had on him for years.

“We can talk after dinner,” I tell him.

We make our way into the kitchen, where we’re greeted by my mom, who’s already busy at the stove, and Becca, Holt’s girlfriend, who is feeding Hazel, my niece and the bestest girl ever.

“Hi, kids,” Mom says over her shoulder.

“Hi, Mom.” I set the grocery bag I was carrying on the counter. I tried to grab more than one, but Weston and Holt shooed me away. I only managed to get this one because I snagged it as Holt was opening the trunk.

“Hi, Momma A. Need any help?” Weston sets his bags on the counter and begins to unpack them.

“Once you put that away, you can help me chop up the veggies for the salad.”

“Sure thing.”

“Where’d Holt go?” I ask, glancing around.

“Upstairs.” Becca tips her chin toward the stairs. “Your dad is on a ladder fixing a light bulb on the landing, and Holt bolted up there to make sure he didn’t fall.”

Hazel finishes her cereal, and Becca wipes her face and hands off. Holt got so fucking lucky falling in love with Becca. She’s perfect for him, for both of them. I couldn’t have asked for a better woman to raise my niece; she’s one million billion times better than Hazel’s biological mother, who, thank goodness, is not in the picture.

“What’d I miss?” Holt asks, breezing into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up as he makes a beeline for his daughter and girlfriend. He drops a kiss on Becca’s forehead before taking Hazel out of her high chair.

“Be careful. She just finished eating,” Becca tells him.

“What can I do?” I ask.

“Sit down and share what happened at the grocery store,” Holt says, turning to give me a pointed look.

“What happened?” Becca asks.

“N-nothing happened,” I stammer.

“Sit.” Holt points to the chair, and I do as he says. “Now spill.”

“No.” I scowl. “You were there.”

“But the rest of them weren’t, and I’m sure they want to know what happened.” He takes a seat at the table next to Becca.

And he says I meddle.

“Know what?” Dad asks, coming into the kitchen.

I groan. I can’t help it.

“Something happened at the grocery store with Hadley, dear,” Mom says over her shoulder, smiling at my dad.

“Hadley Jane, are you okay?” Dad asks, a concerned expression on his face.

“I’m fine. If you must know, I ran into Henry and his fiancée in the pasta aisle.”

“I bet that was awkward,” Becca chimes in.

“I mean, it wasn’t not awkward, but it wasn’t too bad. Our breakup was mutual, so …”

“I didn’t hear the entire conversation, but since Hads is being tight-lipped, I’ll share.” Holt gives me a cocky grin, and if he wasn’t holding my niece, I’d punch him in the arm. I glare at him instead, hoping my expression conveys what I’m feeling. “She told him she was engaged. I think her exact words were that she was visiting with her fiancé.”

Weston coughs, and the knife he was using to cut up a cucumber clatters to the counter.

“Hadley.” Becca gasps.

I shake my head. “It was an accident.”

Holt snorts. “An accident? He invited you and your fiancé to a party.”

“I’m well aware. I was there.”

“Sounds as if you got yourself into a right pickle, Hads,” Dad says.

Thanks, Captain Obvious.

“You’re going to set him straight, right, honey? Tell him you were joking?” Mom asks, turning around and leaning against the counter.

I shrug. “Or I could just go to the party with my fiancé.”

“And where are you going to find one of those?” Weston asks.

“Welllllll …” I drawl, wringing my hands. This was not how I wanted to ask him to go along with my ruse.

“Hadley Jane, please clue us—me—in,” Weston says.

I get to my feet and amble over to him, very much aware that everyone is watching. “I was hoping maybe you would pose as my fiancé.”

“No,” Holt growls from his spot at the table. “That’s ridic—”

Becca shushes him, and if I didn’t love her already, I would now.

“Please, Weston.” I clasp my hands together. “Don’t let me make a fool of myself in front of my ex.”

His gray eyes are sparkling with something as he watches me. Mischief maybe? I hope this doesn’t turn into a disaster.

“You’ll owe me a favor.” He repeats what he said to me earlier in the driveaway.

“I’m well aware, Weston Joseph.”

“We’ll have to act as if we’re in love.” Pretty sure that won’t be too difficult for me. Him on the other hand, that remains to be seen. “Can you do that? Are you a good actress, Hadley Jane?”

“I can act just fine, Weston Anderson.”

He props his hands on the counter, hanging his head and staring down at the cutting board. I wish I could read his mind so I know how much shit he’s going to give me. How much he doesn’t want to do this, because I’m sure the last thing he wants to do is pretend to be his best friend’s little sister’s fake fiancé.

“Hads, there’s got to be another way,” Holt says. “Tell your ex that your fiancé had to go back to Florida …”

I wave a hand over my shoulder.

“Well, Weston, will you do it?”

This was not the way I wanted to do this. I wanted to get him alone so it wouldn’t be so awkward. He inhales before finally meeting my eyes, and I see a flash of vulnerability on his face before it disappears as quickly as it showed up.

“Sure, Hadley.” He gives me a small smile. “We’ll have to come up with a story, though.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“This is crazy,” Holt mutters.

“This is like that one trope in the books you read, dear,” my dad says.

“Oh, yes, fake dating, except this is a fake engagement.” Mom claps her hands together.

“You’re okay with this?” Holt asks our parents.

“They’re adults,” Becca interjects.

Holt says something else, but I ignore it, focusing my attention on the man in front of me.

“Thank you.”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, no problem.”

At this moment, I’d give anything to not be surrounded by my family. I want to know what he’s thinking. Probably that I’m crazy for asking him to do this. Or about what he’s going to ask for in return. I hope it’s not something ridiculous. There’s no way. He’s too nice to ask me to do something crazy. Right?

I’m sure it’ll end up being something like baking him cookies every week for a month or going to a random bakery in another city to get him a dessert he read about online. More of an inconvenience than anything else. But at this point, I don’t care. I’m that desperate to not have to show up to the party alone.

“Time to get back to making dinner,” Mom says, clapping her hands together. “Hads, can I get you to help me brown the beef? Holt or Becca, would one of you mind chopping up the garlic? We’ll mix it with the butter to make garlic bread.”

We snap into action, and I’m grateful for the distraction that is making dinner with my family, so I don’t have to think about what I proposed. What Weston and I are going to do.

It’s dangerous.

It’s playing with fucking fire. And I am going to get burned.

Chapter four

Wes

I am so absolutely fucked.

Absolutely and completely fucked.

I was going to agree to whatever favor Hadley asked me for because she’s her, and I don’t know if I could ever say no to her. But I was not expecting it to be that. It does give me an excuse to spend time with her, pretend she’s mine, even if it’s only for one night. I’ll take whatever I can get.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. We ate dinner. It was good. At least I assume it was, Momma A’s food always is. We had dessert. I think I had dessert. I don’t actually know. We played a card game, but don’t ask me what or who won because I have zero idea.

I was too distracted by what Hadley asked me, no, what she practically begged me to do—be her fake fiancé. And I had to force myself not to say yes the second she asked. Not to suggest that maybe we make it not fake. But I couldn’t say that. Holt would kill me. I’m not good enough for her. So instead, I’ll pretend to be her fiancé.

Now, I’m sipping a beer on the Abbott’s back porch, the last person left awake. At least I assume I’m the last one awake. When the house got quiet, I crept out of my room, down the stairs, and outside.

“What are you doing out here?”

I choke on my drink, turning around toward the house as Hadley steps out the sliding glass door looking like a fucking vision in a pair of navy-blue sweatpants and an oversized, faded Storm shirt, her blonde hair in a ponytail. A ponytail I’m imagining wrapping my hand around and tugging on as she sucks my cock.

Fuck’s sake.

Why the hell am I so horny?

I need to get laid.

I can’t remember the last time I had sex. Usually that doesn’t bother me because I’m so busy with hockey, but apparently, now that the season is done, my sex drive is ramping up. Except all I want is her. And she is one hundred percent off limits.

“What are you doing out here?” she repeats, sitting down on the chair next to me.

I shrug, taking a sip of my drink and staring out into the backyard. “Relaxing and enjoying a beer. It’s a nice night.” I peek over at her.

She puts her legs up on the seat and wraps her arms around them. “I used to hate that it was still chilly this time of year. But now, after spending time in Orlando, I appreciate the cooler weather.”

“Agreed.”

She sighs, and I hold out my beer bottle to her. She glances between it and me before tentatively taking it and raising it to her lips. She swallows, then her tongue peeks out and swipes along her lips, getting rid of all traces of the beer. And I can’t stop staring. I know I should, but I can’t. Finally, she hands me back my drink.

“Thanks.”

I stay silent, letting her lead the conversation.

“I’m sorry if you felt ambushed earlier and like you couldn’t say no. I wanted to talk to you alone without everyone around, but of course, Holt can’t let anything go.”

“Now I know where you get it from.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Get what from?”

“Your meddling.”

She scoffs. “Pot. Meet kettle.”

I chuckle. “Touché. But it’s fine. You needed help. I can help.”

She pinches her brows together. “Why are you being so agreeable?”

I jerk backward, turning fully to study her. “What do you mean?”

Why am I being so agreeable? What the hell does that mean? I know we banter and tease, but I thought that was our relationship. Flirting without actually flirting. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help her if she asked. And she asked. So I’m helping.

She flaps her hand around. “You’re always poking at me. Calling me Hadley Jane.” She deepens her voice, I guess to mimic me, and I can’t help the snort that escapes me. “Never thought you’d agree to help me so easily.”

“I told you that you owe me a favor now.”

“I know. But …” She shrugs. “Still expected you to make it harder on me. I’ve always assumed you saw me as the annoying younger sister.”

“That is not at all how I see you. I’m sorry.” I wince. “I thought that was what we did. You’re always calling me Weston and some random middle name. Banter. I’m sorry. I feel like an asshole. It was never my intention for you to think I didn’t like you. Holt’s one of my best friends. I would never intentionally want to make his sister think I didn’t like her.” I blow out a breath. “Hell, even if you weren’t his sister, I would never want to make you feel bad.”

“Okay. Well, I’m glad then. And there’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Maybe not. But since we’re clearing the air, you always seem annoyed to see me, like at Christmas last year at your brother’s. Why is that?”

Holt invited me over after he found out I was planning to sit at home alone. His parents were in town because he’d just found out about Hazel a few months prior. He and Becca weren’t together yet, although I do remember we ran into her and her parents in the hallway, and we all ended up spending time together. But I remember the scowl Hadley turned my way when I showed up.

Her shoulders fall slightly, and I hold out my beer for her. She takes it, staring out into the distance. I sit patiently, waiting to see what she’s going to say. This conversation feels monumental, and I am not going to rush it. She takes a drink.

“It wasn’t—isn’t—you. I was mostly annoyed because you’re always so happy-go-lucky, and I’m not, well, especially not then. I felt as if I was having a quarter-life crisis.” She lets out a hollow-sounding laugh. “Then you show up, and you’re all you.” She waves the beer bottle around. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“How you’re always in a good mood.”

I shake my head. “I’m not. I’m human too.”

“No shit. But seriously, how do you do it?”

“I don’t know. I just do. Life’s too short to waste it being in a bad mood, but I have off days and weeks. I try to take them in stride. To make the best of the shit situations. At least when I can.”

“That’s very deep.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I haven’t always been the nicest to you. Something about you brings out my sass.”

“Ya think?”

“Just admit that you enjoy it.”

I chuckle. “I don’t not enjoy it, and there’s nothing to apologize for,” I repeat her words back to her because they’re true.

“It hurt a lot to see Henry happy and engaged. Not that I’m still in love with him, or ever was.” She frowns. “Every guy I date, the next woman he dates is the one he gets engaged to. It was hard to see today.” She pauses. “Maybe because I just came back from being surrounded by all the happy couples. My brother. Mads. Aubs.” I start to tell her there are plenty of single guys on the team, including me, but she shakes her head, and I remain quiet. She stares up at the night sky, and when she speaks again, it’s so soft I have to lean closer to hear. “I feel cursed. Like I’m doomed to be alone and am never going to be good enough for someone to want me permanently.” Her words gut me, and I suck in a breath. She turns toward me, and I swear she has tears in her eyes. I ball my hands up to keep from brushing them away. “So I got a little carried away and told my ex I was engaged. I’m sorry if I put you in a weird position. I can make an excuse for why my fiancé isn’t around.”

“Hadley.” My voice comes out gruff, and I clear my throat. “I said I’d be your fake fiancé. Whatever you need from me.”

She takes another sip of beer before saying, “We’ll have to act as though we’re in love. Can you do that, Reynolds?”

“I think I can, Abbott. We’ve established that we don’t dislike each other. Pretending we’re in love won’t be that hard.” At least I know it won’t be for me. My fear is I’ll overdo it, and she’ll realize I really like her. Or worse, Holt will find out I have a crush to end all crushes on his little sister, and he’ll be pissed. “Now, are you going to share that?” I tip my chin toward the bottle in her hand. “Or do I need to get another one?”

She clutches it to her chest. “This is mine now.”

With a shake of my head, I push my chair away from the table and get to my feet.

“Wait, I was kidding. You can have some.” She holds it out to me.

I grin. “If my fiancée wants to steal my beer, I’ll just go get another one.”

I swear I see her shiver, but I can’t be sure if it’s from my words or the temperature.

I force myself to turn and go into the house, not stay and ask her. I need a minute to collect myself, anyway, before I do or say something I’ll regret. Something like Let’s make this real? Or Will you go out with me?

Chapter five

Hadley

I tear my gaze away from the disappearing back of my fake fiancé, taking a sip of beer. I fear I may be in trouble. When he called me his fiancée … ugh, that word coming out of his mouth, directed at me.

Why the hell was it so hot?

It shouldn’t be.

But it was.

I want to hear him say it again if I’m being honest.

I give myself a small shake. What am I thinking? No, I don’t want him to call me that. This is just for one day, an evening, and that’s it. I chew on the inside of my lip.

“What’s got you making that face?” Weston asks as he retakes his seat, another beer in his hand.

“Nothing. Just hoping no one else I know is at this party.”

“Are you ashamed to be seen with me, Hadley Jane? Afraid I’ll ruin your reputation?” He bounces his eyebrows at me, and it’s all I can do to hold in a laugh.

“Nope, Weston Raymond. Worried I might ruin your reputation.”

“Not my middle name, Hadley Jane, and I think my reputation is safe.”

I take a sip of my drink instead of answering him because I’d probably say something snarky, like ‘what reputation’? The last thing I want to do is be a jerk to the guy who is saving my ass.

“We need rules,” he says after a few minutes of silence.

I set my now-empty bottle down on the table. “We don’t need rules. It’s one evening. That’s it. I’ll introduce you as my fiancé to Henry and whoever else. We’ll eat. Make awkward small talk with people we don’t know and escape as soon as possible.”

He frowns. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

I shake my head.

He tilts his head, studying me in the dim light from the moon. “So why are we going? Why not say you can’t come when he texts you?”

I turn over his words in my head.

“Because it’ll seem as though I’m avoiding him. It’ll give him the wrong idea. That I haven’t moved on. That I’m still somehow hurt by our breakup.”

“Who the hell cares what he thinks?” I swallow, unsure of how to answer, but he saves me from having to by continuing to speak. “Fuck ’im.”

I snort. “Done that. Wasn’t that great.”

He wrinkles his nose, grimacing, and I can’t help but laugh.

Silence surrounds us, only interrupted by the buzzing of crickets, the occasional frog croaking, and the wind whispering through the trees. The quiet starts to lull me to sleep, and after I yawn for the fifth time in a row, I push my chair away from the table and get to my feet.

“I’m going to head to bed.”

“Good night.”

“Night.” I grab my empty bottle and turn toward the back door, reenter the sleeping house, and make my way upstairs to my room.

“Hiya.” Callie, my best friend, answers on the first ring when I call her a few days later. “How’s it going?”

“Hey, Cal. Welll …” I drawl, lying down on my unmade bed.

“What happened?”

“I ran into Henry at the grocery store earlier this week. He was with his new fiancée. I may have told them I was engaged to one of my brother’s teammates. And now I’ve roped one of Holt’s best friends into being my fake fiancé and going with me to his engagement party tomorrow night.” The words come out in a rush, and I don’t even know if they made sense.

There’s silence for a few seconds, and I start to repeat what I said, except slower, when she says, “Noo you didn’t.”

“I did, Callie,” I whine. “I did. It wasn’t my finest moment. I panicked, and before I knew it, I was telling Henry I was engaged too and, well, all the rest.” I throw my hand up even though she can’t see me.

“Leave it to you to do something like that.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s just one night, right?”

“Yes.”

“Which friend of Holt’s?”

“Weston Reynolds.”

“HADLEY. No, you didn’t. Shit, girl. Why didn’t you lead with that?”

I put my hand over my face. “Because it’s a disaster. And it’s fake.”

“But maybe it’ll lead to something more.”

I groan.

I seriously regret spilling my secret crush on Weston to her after one too many glasses of wine. Do I still have a crush on him? I do. But that’s all it’ll ever be. I don’t stand a chance of dating someone like Weston. He deserves a partner who has their act together and knows what they want to do with their life, not me, an unemployed photographer who is starting to question her career choice.

“Stopppp,” I whine. “Please don’t.”

She laughs. The bitch fucking laughs, and if she wasn’t my best friend and I didn’t love her like a sister, I would hang up the phone and never speak to her again. Fine, I’d speak to her again, but it would take me a few days. Instead, I grab the other pillow from the bed and pull it over my face.

“Are you hiding under the covers?” she asks, having seen me dive under my blanket before when she’s called me out on something.

“No. A pillow,” I answer, my voice muffled.

“Come on, you have to admit this is perfect.”

I move the pillow. “No, it’s not. He’s doing it because he’s too nice to say no, and I practically begged him.”

“If you say so.” I can hear the eye roll in her voice.

“Let’s change the subject. How are you? How’s the new job? How’s Colorado treating you?”

Callie recently took a social media marketing position out in Colorado with the major league baseball team there.

She sighs, and I think she’s going to protest the subject change, but she doesn’t.

“The job’s going good. Finally settling into my new apartment. I told you the first place I moved into had mold, right?”

“Yeah. That was gross. I’m glad you’re out of there.”

“Me too. This building is way nicer. I think the leasing office felt guilty, as they should have, and upgraded my apartment for free. More amenities. There’s no way it can be the same price as my other one, yet I’m still paying the same rent.”

“You deserve it. Maybe you’ll meet a hot, single millionaire who will sweep you off your feet.”

She laughs. “Just a millionaire? Not a billionaire?”

“Well, a billionaire would probably have a private elevator to the penthouse, so you’d never see him.”

“True. True.”

We slip into silence for a few seconds.

“So, how’s the job search going?” she asks.

“It’s going.”

“That good, eh?”

“I’ve applied for at least a dozen photography gigs. Most of them are short-term contracts. Most of them are long shots. Nothing yet.” I exhale sharply and say what I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. “Maybe I should start thinking about a plan B.”

“Ugh. I hate that for you. I think you need to give it more time. Don’t give up yet.”

“I have been giving it time, and I’m still unemployed.”

“I believe in you. You’re a great photographer. You’ll find something.”

I hope she’s right. I’ve done a few photography gigs on my own, but nothing steady. Nothing that can amount to a career. Maybe Henry was right; maybe photography should be a hobby or a side gig, and not my career.

“What else is new with you?” I ask, desperately wanting to change the subject. Again.

“Well,” Callie says, launching into a story about one of the players on the team who landed in her office the other week and whose social media she had to help clean up.

Eventually, we hang up, after I promise to keep an open mind about things with Weston and to text her after the party and let her know how it went.

I promised because I knew it was the only way she’d let the subject go, not because I actually do plan to keep an open mind about Weston.

Because there’s no way he feels remotely the same way about me as I do about him. I know we cleared the weird air between us and that he isn’t annoyed by me. But I don’t think he likes me as anything more than Holt’s little sister. Then again, he did agree to be my fake fiancé, and he did share his beer with me last night.

He’s just being nice, right? That’s the way he is.

At least that’s what I tell myself, because there’s no way this thing with Weston and I will ever be more than a fake engagement that lasts for a few hours.

Chapter six

Wes

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Holt says from his seat next to me on the couch.

“It’ll be fine,” I tell him without any hesitation.

Hadley needed my help, so of course, I’m going to help her. Plus, it’s an excuse for me to touch her, to keep her close to me. So hell yes, I’m going to take advantage of that.

“You sure you two can pull this off?” Holt asks.

“Yes. Stop worrying. Please.”

Before he can say anything else, Hadley walks into the room. She’s gorgeous. I mean, I’ve always thought that, but right now, with her blonde hair that hangs just past her shoulders in soft waves and wearing a floral sun dress that accentuates her curves, she’s even more beautiful.

A throat clearing has me blinking out of my Hadley Jane-induced daze, and I let my gaze trail over her one more time before lifting my eyes to hers. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, shifting on her feet. I frown. She doesn’t seem confident the way she usually does, and I hate it. I hate that she’s doing this to herself.

I get to my feet and walk over to her. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She swallows, her eyes darting around the room before they meet mine again. “I told him we’d be there, so we’re going.”

“We could make an excuse. Tell them I got sick. Or something came up,” I offer. I don’t like that she’s going even though she clearly doesn’t want to.

She shakes her head. “No, I need to do this.”

“Okay.”

If that’s what she wants, then I won’t leave her side. I’ll be there one hundred percent of the time, so she doesn’t have to face her ex alone.

We say our goodbyes to Holt and Becca, Hadley’s parents having gone out for the evening to play cards with friends, and head out toward Momma Abbott’s car, which she kindly let us borrow tonight. I help Hadley into the passenger seat before going around to the driver’s side.

“I don’t understand why you won’t let me drive,” Hadley grumbles as I adjust the seat and mirrors. “I know where things are. Where the shortcuts are.”

“Because I want to arrive there alive.”

“I drive Hazel around all the time. I’m a perfectly capable driver.”

“Sure. Then why did I see a new dent in Holt’s truck the last time I was over at the house?”

That shuts her up, and I grin, pulling on my seatbelt before plugging the address of our destination into my phone. When the GPS starts to talk to me, I put the car in reverse and start driving.

“Tell me about your ex,” I say, breaking the silence.

Hadley sighs.

“We met through friends at a party a few years ago. We bonded over the fact that neither of us wanted to be there. He was easy to talk to. We were both kind of lost about what we wanted to do with our lives. His parents were pushing him to go to medical school and become a doctor, but he didn’t want to, and I just didn’t know what I wanted to do.”

“What happened? Why’d you break up?”

She blows out a breath. “He figured his life out after we’d been dating for a couple of years and thought I needed to grow up and get a real job. His words, not mine.” I glance over to see her picking at her nails. Shit. “When I first talked about wanting to get into photography professionally, he thought it was cool and encouraged me to do it. His support only lasted so long. I started finding brochures in my car, around his place, and at mine, for universities, teaching schools, hell, even one about becoming a dental hygienist, which, eww, no thank you. I ignored them, hoped he’d eventually get the hint that I wasn’t interested. Then he told me he was moving to Vancouver for a job. Asked me to go with him.” She pauses. “And then proceeded to tell me about the great trade schools in the area. I wasn’t interested.”

“In him or in school?”

“Both. I broke up with him. I couldn’t be with a guy who didn’t support my dream. He kept pushing me to do what he wanted. Told me I could still be a photographer, as a hobby. All because my dream wasn’t happening on his timeline.” What the literal fuck. “He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that I had no interest in going back to school or getting an office job. Instead of supporting me the way he did in the beginning, he wanted me to change. Just proved that he wasn’t the guy for me, and I clearly wasn’t the girl for him.” She sounds sad when she says the last part, and I hate it.

We’re silent for a few minutes as I focus on navigating the roads and following the directions.

“Why are you so nervous?” I finally ask.

She blows out a breath. “Because what if he’s right? What if photography should just be a hobby?”

“I don’t think—”

“Every time I pick up my camera, the photographs aren’t great. I’ve been trying to edit the ones I took in Vegas, photos I took for fun, photos that should be easy to edit, but I can’t. I think I’m losing my touch.”

“Maybe you’re not taking the right pictures? Or putting too much pressure on yourself to get them perfect?”

She scoffs but doesn’t say anything, and I wonder if I crossed a line. I didn’t mean it in a bad way, and I start to tell her that, but she interrupts me.

“I think we should keep things as truthful as possible.” Guess we’re changing the subject. “We’ll tell them we met through Holt and we’ve been dating for a while now. You came home with me for part of the summer and proposed. My ring is at the jeweler’s because it didn’t fit.”

“I’m good with that.”

“I doubt people will ask much about it, but just in case, I wanted to make sure we had our story straight.”

“Makes sense.”

“I don’t even know who’s going to be there. I’m not close with many people from here anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“We grew apart, I guess. Most of them are married or in committed relationships, and it was always hard to be the third wheel, you know?”

“I most definitely do.” Thankfully, a few of the guys that I’m close with on the team, like Elias and Sebastian, are still single, but it is getting lonelier and lonelier in the off-season.

I put on my turn signal and pull into the parking lot of our destination, and damn, it’s crowded. The building appears to be a community center or lodge of some sort, and since there’s nothing else here, I’d say all of these cars are for the party.

“Should we have a safe word?”

“A safe word? We’re going to an engagement party, Weston Albert. Or did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget, Hadley Jane. And that is not my middle name. I just thought if you wanted to leave, you could use it, and then I’d know. Something like ‘banana’ or ‘kumquat.’”

“Kumquat? Really, Weston. When would I ever use that in a sentence? I’m in the mood for some kumquats. Anyone got any kumquats?”

I chuckle, parking the car. “Fine, what do you suggest?”

She taps her chin. “How about I cough three times in a row?”

“Three coughs. Got it.”

I turn the car off and open my door, putting on my game face.

Chapter seven

Hadley

Taking a deep breath, I get out of the car, smooth down my dress, and walk around to where Weston is standing in front of the hood. He holds out his hand to me, and I stare at it for a few seconds before taking it. I like the way his palm feels against mine, a little calloused and rough, probably from playing hockey and working out so much, but warm and reassuring, a hug for my hand. He squeezes gently, as if to say he’s got me. At least that’s what I hope he’s saying.

“You ready?” he asks as we make our way to the front door.

“Yes, but we’re getting ice cream after this.”

“I’m down with that. I think I feel a coughing fit coming on.”

I can’t help chuckling and instantly feel a little more relaxed. He opens the door and guides me inside. It takes a second for me to adjust to the dim light, but when I do, I can barely hold my eye roll back.

I feel as though I’ve stepped into a movie from the nineties, or maybe even earlier. This lodge or whatever it is hasn’t been updated in probably forever, based on the outdated decor. Brown trim runs along the base of the walls, and the walls themselves are covered in wooden panels, but that weird fake wood. The floors, well, they were probably white at one time, but now the tile, no, make that linoleum, is an off-white gray color from the years of people traipsing over it.

We make our way into the hall to find chairs and tables set out, and along one wall, what appears to be the food, although given all the mismatched dishes and the crock pots, I’d say it’s a potluck.

I scan the room, searching for any familiar faces.

“Are we in the right place?” Weston whispers.

Before I can respond, Henry walks up. “Hadley, you made it.”

“Hi, Henry.”

“You must be the fiancé,” Henry says to Weston.

“This is Weston. Weston, meet my ex, Henry.”

Henry holds out his hand. “I honestly wasn’t sure you were going to show up.”

“Oh?” Weston asks, taking Henry’s hand.

“Between you and me, I thought you weren’t real. Our girl has a very active imagination. Guess that’s what happens when you’re a photographer.” I hear the bite in his voice when he says photographer, as if it’s a dirty word, and I can’t help cringing.

Weston hums, glancing at me and winking. “Nope, real as can be. And I like her imagination. Keeps things interesting, if you know what I mean,” he says, still shaking my ex’s hand. Henry, you have met your match. I make a mental note to thank Weston for that later.

“Ah, well,” Henry mumbles, extracting his hand from Weston’s grip, and this time, I don’t stop my grin at the way he shakes it out. I usually hate when guys do the whole peacocking measuring dicks thing, but Henry walked into it.

Weston draws me into his side and kisses me on the forehead, and I swoon a little bit. Nope, must not swoon. No swooning. This is fake. I ignore the feeling of butterflies in my stomach. He’s putting on a show for Henry’s benefit.

“Speaking of being a photographer, how’s that going, Hadley?” Henry asks, his gaze darting between Weston and me. “Or did you finally give it up and get a real career?”

Weston’s arm stiffens around me, and I swear he growls. I ignore it. “Still a photographer.”

“What exactly is it that you do, Harry?” Weston asks, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from snorting.

“It’s Henry. I’m a financial planner …”

“Ah, Harry, so you sit behind a desk all day. That explains a lot,” Weston says, looking him up and down, and I have to fight the urge to laugh.

“It’s Henry,” he repeats through gritted teeth, glaring at Weston. “And what is it you do?”

Did you not listen? I told you he was Holt’s teammate.

Weston squares his shoulders, standing up straighter. “I play professional hockey. I’m a defenseman.”

“Oh,” he says, glancing between the two of us. “That’s nice.” He takes a half step back as if he’s finally catching on that Weston doesn’t like him very much. “Well, lovely to see you, Hadley. Nice to meet you, Weston. I should probably go find my fiancée now. Help yourself to the food.” He points to the buffet before shoving his hands in the pockets of his chinos and strolling away.

“Well,” Weston says, running a hand down his face.

I’m grinning like a fool as I extract myself from him. “If looks could kill …”

Weston throws his head back, laughing, and the sound goes straight to my core. “He messed with the wrong person. Think he got the message?”

“I hope so. Let’s go see if there’s any alcohol. I’m going to need it to get through this.”

“I can’t believe you dated him.”

I glare at him. “Fuck off. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.”

Weston chuckles, holding out his hand for me, and I take it, letting him lead me toward the buffet.

Unfortunately for us, we find out this is a dry party. There’s no alcohol to be found anywhere.

“Hadley, is that you?” a voice asks from behind us, and I turn around to find one of my high school classmates.

“Hi, Denise,” I greet her. “Funny seeing you here.” I tilt my head, studying her. She looks much the same as when we were in high school, except she’s sporting a pregnant belly.

She puts a hand on it, rubbing it, and my chest tightens.

“Adam, my husband. Do you remember him?” I nod because how can I forget Adam, the class clown? “He’s friends with Beth’s brother. What are you doing here?”

“Henry and I dated for a while.”

She laughs but quickly schools her expression when she realizes I’m serious. “Oh, shit. Sorry.” She shakes her head. “I know it’s been a while, and people change, but he doesn’t seem like your type.”

“That’s what I said,” Weston says, wrapping his arm around me and putting out his hand to Denise. “Hi. I’m Weston. Hadley’s fiancé.”

Her eyes flare with what I think might be recognition, but she doesn’t say anything, simply shaking Weston’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Hadley and I went to high school together.”

We chat with Denise for a while, and I learn that she’s a vet tech and expecting her second child. Eventually, she excuses herself to find the bathroom, after giving me her number and telling me to text her, and then Weston and I are alone again.

I don’t want to be here.

I only came because I felt as though I had to prove something to Henry.

We’ve seen him, and he’s met my fiancé. Mission accomplished, right?

“You ready to go?” Weston asks, leaning closer to me. “We can stay if you want, but I feel a coughing fit coming on.”

“Hadley, is that you, dear?”

“Great,” I mutter under my breath, turning around to find Henry’s mother coming toward us.

“It is you,” she says as she comes to a stop. “So good to see you.”

She reaches to hug me, and I step back, colliding with Weston. He grips my hips, giving them a squeeze.

A flash of disappointment crosses her face, but she quickly hides it as she drops her hands as her husband comes to a stop at her side.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery,” I greet Henry’s parents.

“I’m so glad you could come,” she says, clapping her hands. “And who is this?” She checks out Weston, her lips tipping up into a big grin, and I want to tell her to stop oogling my fiancé.

“Weston, ma’am. Nice to meet you.” He reaches around me, holding out his hand to shake. “Sir.”

Mr. Montgomery grunts, taking a sip of his drink.

“How are you, Hadley? Hanging in there, I hope?”

“I’m doing great, thank you.”

She frowns. “Henry mentioned he ran into you at the grocery store.” She eyes me up and down. “But he made it sound as though you weren’t doing good. Said you were living with your brother.”

I rear back, and Weston’s grip tightens on my hips.

“I’m doing just fine. I was in Florida for a while with Holt, as a nanny for his daughter.”

“So you finally got serious and found yourself a reliable job. Good. Good.” She pats me on the arm.

For fuck’s sake.

I clear my throat, narrowing my eyes at her.

“I’m a photographer. That’s my job.”

“She’s a damn good one, too,” Weston says.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. We have one of her photographs hanging in our house. It’s lovely, but as a hobby. Not as a serious career.” She throws her hands up. “It’s not a long-term plan.” She shakes her head. “It’s not reliable. Who would marry her knowing they’d more than likely have to support her?”

Way to talk about me like I’m not here.

This time, Weston does growl. “I’m marrying her.”

Mrs. Montgomery’s mouth drops open, and she wrings her hands. Probably embarrassed. Good. But Weston isn’t done.

“Any self-respecting man would be proud to call Hadley his wife. But I guess that means your Henry isn’t self-respecting. His loss. My gain.” Weston stands to his full height, and Mrs. Montgomery starts to speak, but he beats her to it. “Come on, Hadley, let’s go.” He takes my hand and turns to leave.

Mr. Montgomery has gone pale; at least one of them has enough decency to be ashamed.

“Definitely glad I dodged a bullet not marrying Henry.” I shake my head at her before letting Weston lead me away.

Thankfully, no one stops us, and Henry and his fiancée are nowhere to be found. Once we’re out in the parking lot, I breathe a sigh of relief.

“What the hell was that?” Weston asks, opening the passenger side door for me. “Is that how they always acted toward you?”

I shrug, climbing into the seat. “Not in the beginning. But I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s go find that ice cream you promised me.”

He laughs. “You’re the one who promised me ice cream. Although I think I might need something a little stronger after that.”

He shuts the car door and hurries around to the driver’s side. I pull out my phone and search for nearby ice cream shops.

“I found one,” I tell him, hitting the Directions button on Maps so the navigation starts talking, and Weston puts the car into gear.

Twenty minutes later, we’re walking out of the ice cream parlor with our desserts. I opted for chocolate peanut butter in a waffle cone, and Weston went with a scoop of pistachio and a scoop of strawberry in a waffle bowl.

“That is the oddest combination,” I tell him as we take seats at one of the tables on the sidewalk outside the shop.

He holds his bowl out to me. “Try it. I promise it’s not that weird.”

I grimace, wrinkling my nose. “No thank you.”

“Come on, Hadley Jane. I promise I don’t have cooties.”

“What are we, in elementary school again?” I snatch the bowl from him.

He holds out his hand and gestures for my cone, and I reluctantly hand it to him. I take a bite of the ice cream, trying not to think about the fact that he just had his mouth wrapped around the same spoon. What would his lips feel like against mine? I bet he’s a great kisser. He seems like a take-charge-of-the-kiss, of-the-moment, type of guy. Yes, please.

Nope. I give myself a small shake. Can’t go there. I force myself to focus on the ice cream, and damn him, he wasn’t kidding. It is good. But I refuse to give him the satisfaction of admitting that.

“Not bad, but I still prefer mine,” I tell him, giving him his ice cream back.

“Your ex is an asshole,” he says after a few minutes of silence. “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, though.”

“Maybe they have a point … Maybe photography is better off as a hobby.” The words come out as barely a whisper, and I wonder if he heard me.

Callie is the only person I’ve told this to, and I don’t know what made me tell Weston, of all people. Maybe because of the way he stood up for me tonight.

He tilts his head, studying me. “Don’t listen to them and their bullshit.”

My shoulders fall, and I stare down at the table. “How do you know when it’s time to give up your dream and admit defeat?”

“Hadley Jane, don’t let them get to you. You’re a fabulous photographer.”

I let out a bark of laughter. “How do you know?”

“I just do.” He says it so seriously that part of me believes him.

“Thank you for tonight,” I say once we’re done with our treats.

“No problem.” He pushes the chair back, standing as he gathers our garbage before putting a hand out to me. “And I mean it, don’t let what that asshole and his mother said stop you from pursuing your dreams.” I nod. “Ready to go home? The night’s still young. We could do something else.”

“Can’t get enough of me, can you, Weston James?”

“Not my middle name, Hadley Jane.” He opens the car door for me. “Thought we could hang out more.” He leans in and buckles my seatbelt.

I can’t help the shiver that racks my body when his hand guides the belt into place. He pulls back, a wicked grin on his face, and I roll my eyes. He winks at me before shutting the door, and I have to take deep breaths to calm my racing heart.

What the hell has gotten into me?

“How about we get a drink?” I ask, pulling out my phone again when he’s in the driver’s seat.

“Sure.”

I find a pub a few blocks away, and Weston starts driving. I peer out the window, my mind going back over the interactions of the past hour. I dodged a bullet breaking up with Henry.

It’s not until we’re sitting in a booth at the back of the quiet bar, a beer in front of each of us, that I speak again.

“Thank you for defending me.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, focusing my attention everywhere but at Weston.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispers, putting a hand on my arm. “Please.” The way he utters that one word has me meeting his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me for defending you. Ever.”

“Okay.”

He withdraws his hand and picks up his beer. I can’t tear my gaze away from him, watching the way his throat works as he swallows and his tongue swipes at the beer on his lips.

“Like what you see?”

My face heats. I lift a shoulder in a half shrug. “Meh, it’s fine.”

He snorts out a laugh. “Just fine? I’m a very handsome man. You know it. Admit it.”

“You’re something, that’s for sure …”

He rests his arms on the table, leaning forward. “Why won’t you admit it?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Eh, five out of ten.”

“Sure. Sure. Troublemaker.”

“What are you going to do about it? Spank me?”

His eyes darken. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, Hadley Jane,” he says, his voice gravelly.

My nipples pebble at his tone, at his words. Fucking traitors.

All I can do is laugh, praying it doesn’t sound forced, because if I don’t, I think I might do something I regret, like tell him I do want him to spank me.

Thankfully, I’m saved from having to answer by the waitress asking if we want to order any food. We do, since neither of us ate at the party and all we’ve had is ice cream.

She takes our order and disappears. Weston and I spend the next hour chatting about random things. It’s nice. Nice to spend time with him.

When we get back to my parents’ house later that evening, I tell everyone I’m tired and head to my room so I can put some space between Weston and I.

Because the more time I spend with him, the more I think I might be very much in trouble.

Chapter eight

Wes

When I come downstairs the next morning, Holt’s already in the kitchen drinking coffee.

“Morning,” I greet him as I pour myself a cup.

“Hey.”

I take my first sip, closing my eyes and letting the caffeine seep through my body. I don’t know what it is about the first sip of coffee, but it’s the best one of the day. Always.

“So how did it really go last night? I know you said it was fine, but …”

Can’t a guy drink his coffee in peace without the hard-hitting questions first thing in the morning?

“It was …” I pause, taking another drink of my coffee. “Her ex is an asshole, and so is his mother, by the way. Dodged a bullet there. But otherwise, it was fine, like I said.”

I walk over to the fridge and pull out ingredients to make breakfast.

“Want some?” I ask, holding up the cartoon of eggs.

“Nah, I already ate.”

I nod, setting the frying pan on the burner. I turn on the stove, crack a couple of eggs into a bowl, and scramble them before pouring them into the hot pan.

“You still want to hit the gym and then the rink this morning?” he asks.

“Yeah. Unless you’ve got something else you wanna do.”

He shakes his head, studying me. I ignore him, focusing on the pan and my eggs.

“You’re not going to see them again, are you?”

I turn off the stove and grab a plate out of the cabinet, then scoop my eggs onto it and add a slice of cheddar cheese on top.

“Nope,” I tell him, taking a seat at the table next to him.

Holt doesn’t say anything else about it, and I’m thankful for that because I don’t want to lie to my best friend, but I don’t want to tell him that we hung out after we left the party. Not that we did anything wrong and have anything to hide.

But it felt like a real date. Like something we’d do together if Hadley and I were actually real. But if we were real, I would have kissed her. Multiple times. But I didn’t. Because things aren’t that way between us. Even though I desperately want them to be.

We’re all sitting around the living room after lunch, relaxing. Hadley and her mom are reading. Her dad is napping in his recliner, and Holt and Becca are having a quiet conversation next to me. The only one not present is Hazel, who is asleep in Holt and Becca’s room. I’m starting to fall asleep when my phone rings, startling me.

Why is John calling me?

“Shit. Sorry,” I tell Holt when I accidentally bump his legs as I stand.

“My agent,” I say by way of an excuse as I make my way out of the living room.

“Hey, John. What’s up?” I ask. I take the stairs two at a time and walk into my room, closing the door quietly behind me.

“Weston. Congrats.”

“Ummm …” I run a hand through my hair.

“On your engagement.”

“That’s … wait, how do you know about that?”

“SportsCenter was talking about it. They had a photograph of you and your fiancée at a gathering. Party. Whatever it was. Not somewhere I would have expected you to get photographed at.” I chuckle because same. But also, what the fuck? “You two seem cozy. I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.” I hear papers rustling. “It says she’s the sister of your teammate, Abbott. Is it true?”

“Well …”

“I know you’re a very private person, but unfortunately, this got out.”

I cringe. “Where did you say the photograph was?”

“No, don’t try to find it. Trust me. Most of the comments are nice, but there are quite a few that aren’t. Best if you don’t go looking.”

“I-I wasn’t expecting this.” This is not good. Not good at all.

Shit.

“No, this is a good thing,” John says. “I was calling because I’ve had a few companies reach out, inquiring about endorsement deals. Seems as though once word got out that you’re settling down, well, let’s just say it changed their perspectives of you, and they’re interested in you representing them now. One reached out this morning. They want both of you to be in their ad.” More papers rustle. “It’s a Christmas pajama line for Slumberly Apparel. They assured me it’s tasteful pajamas and not lingerie or underwear. It’s a great deal. With an option to also appear in their Valentine’s Day ad, and future lines.”

“Well, I don’t …”

My mind is spinning with the information he’s giving me. He’s been trying to get me more brand endorsements for years, but no dice. Now I have a fiancée, and all of a sudden, they’re willing to play ball. Not just one brand either. Multiple. I should be annoyed that they didn’t want me before. I should say no on principle, but fuck it. I’ll take the money, invest it, and set myself up for the future because there will come a time when I can’t play hockey anymore. And it would be nice not to have to worry about how I’m going to support myself and my family.

Except, how am I going to get Hadley to go along with this? Because I have a feeling that if she’s not involved, or we’re at least not still pretending to be engaged, this will all disappear, and that’s the last thing I want.

He clears his throat. “No pressure. And Wes, I get it. It’s complete shit that you being engaged changes who you are and makes you more appealing to these companies, but unfortunately, it is what it is. For whatever fucked up reason, they see you as more mature or respectable—who the hell knows which one—since you’re getting married. I don’t agree with it. You hear me? You didn’t change because you suddenly put a ring on it. But while I may not agree with it, I say we take advantage of it …”

“I hear you.” I rub my eyes. What the hell am I going to do?

He’s silent for a few beats. “Are you still coming back to Orlando in two weeks?”

“In a week.”

“The future missus going to be with you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’d love to meet her and talk to you both about these offers. Wes, this could be just the beginning.”

“Yeah …”

“I’m sure you wanted to keep your engagement private, but it’s out there now, so I think we need to use it to our advantage. In any way we can. This is good press.”

“Thanks?”

“You talk to your future wife about coming back with you. If she isn’t coming, we can meet via video conference. Slumberly Apparel wants to schedule a photo shoot soon, so we’ll have to decide if it’s something you two are interested in rather quickly. Don’t want them to change their mind.”

“Okay,” is all I can manage to get out.

John hangs up after telling me he’ll give me a call in two weeks, and I’m left staring down at my phone. What the hell was that? More importantly, what the hell am I going to do? Hadley is going to kill me if Holt doesn’t first. But at the same time, I helped her with her problem, so maybe she’d be willing to help me. Especially since she’s going to get paid to be part of this advertisement, because of course I’ll split the fee with her. I’d probably be fine giving her most of it, honestly.

I take a few deep breaths before making my way back downstairs. I peek my head into the living room.

“Hey, Hadley Jane, can I talk to you in the kitchen?”

She sets her book down, gets to her feet, and follows me into the other room.

“What’s up?”

I shove my hands in the pockets of my shorts and proceed to pace.

“Weston, you’re making me nervous.”

I suck in another breath, coming to a stop and meeting her eyes.

“Hadley Jane, I just talked to my agent …” She tilts her head, studying me, but remains silent, so I carry on. Might as well rip the Band-Aid off. “He called to congratulate me on my engagement.”

I watch as she registers my words, her eyes getting wider and her mouth dropping open.

“What the fuck did you do, Weston Reynolds?” Her voice pitches up at the end.

Chapter nine

Hadley

Weston winces at my question, and I know it came out harsher than I meant it, but then again, he’s standing here telling me his agent knows about our fake engagement.

“I didn’t do anything, Hadley Jane.”

“What’s going on in here?” Holt asks, walking into the kitchen, Becca trailing behind him.

I cringe.

Great.

Wonderful.

I plaster on what I hope is a convincing smile. That’s all I seem to be doing these days.

“Weston here”—I point at him—“was telling me his agent congratulated him on his engagement.”

Holt sucks in a breath. I catch Becca’s eye, and I swear she looks as if she’s holding in a laugh. To her credit, she puts a hand on Holt’s arm and guides him into a chair.

“Breathe,” I hear her whisper, and I whirl around to face Weston, who is once again pacing the room.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose. Turns out someone at the party last night leaked pictures of us to, well, I don’t really know who, and now it’s all over the internet. My agent called to tell me he’s had a few companies express interest in endorsing me now. Apparently, all I needed to do was get engaged for them to come out of the woodwork.” He throws up his hands. “Who the fuck knew?” He barks out a laugh, and my anger softens. “Guess being a great hockey player isn’t enough.” He roughly runs his hands through his hair.

“What if we kept up this ruse?” The words tumble out of my mouth, and someone, probably Holt, gasps behind me. Weston pauses, turns, and takes a few steps closer to me. “What more can it hurt? Besides, you helped me. Maybe I can help you.”

“Well, see, here’s the thing.” He rocks back on his heels. “One of the companies wants both of us to appear in their photos for their winter line of pajamas.” I start to ask him what kind of pajamas, but he puts up a hand. “John says it’s tasteful. I didn’t get all the details, but I can say no. I’m sure the pay is going to be significant, or so I think, and of course I’ll split it with you.”

“Well …”

Wait until I tell Callie this turn of events. I don’t know if she’s going to believe me. Scratch that, of course she’ll believe me. She’s Team Make It Real.

“Hads, this is crazy. Wes, what the hell are you thinking, man?” Holt says from behind me.

“This is between the two of them,” Becca murmurs. “We’re not going to interfere or give our opinions unless they ask for them.”

“If you’re game for it, I think we should at least hear what they have to say. Not like I’m rushing out to date anyone. We could pretend to still be engaged.” I shrug. “Besides, what the hell else am I doing with my life? Now that my gig as a nanny is up, I don’t have anything to do except figure out my next job.”

Weston studies me for a few seconds. “You’d have to come back to Orlando with me when I leave next week.”

“You can stay at the house,” Holt says.

“It would be suspicious if she wasn’t living with me,” Weston argues.

Holt groans but doesn’t say anything.

“It’s fine.” I sound calm and collected, but on the inside, my stomach is churning, and I’m trying not to panic.

I can’t live with Weston. That’s crazy. Even crazier is me pretending to be his fianceé and being in an advertisement, or on the company’s social media, or whatever it turns out to be, with him. I repeat with him. But he said they were going to pay well, and I can’t turn that down. Not when I still don’t have a job. What the hell is my life becoming?

“Okay. Good.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “We’ll figure out how we can break up after the summer is over, or whenever. I don’t know. Say we rushed into things.”

“What else?” I ask.

“This is a bad idea,” Holt says.

“Can you please leave?” I point toward the living room. “You made your opinions clear. We’ve heard you, and we’re choosing to ignore you.”

“Hadley—” Holt says.

“Don’t. Please. I’m a fucking adult,” I tell him. I turn my attention to Becca. “Please.” She gives me a small nod before standing up.

“Come on.” She gestures at Holt.

He blows out a breath but finally rises to his feet. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when this turns into a disaster.”

“Really, Holt?” Weston says from behind me. “That’s what you’re going with?”

Holt runs a hand down his face. “I don’t want either of you to get hurt or for me to lose either of you.”

What the hell does he think is going to happen? I furrow my brows.

“It’ll be fine,” I say.

Reluctantly, he follows Becca out of the room.

When Weston and I are finally alone, I turn around to face him, shocked at how close he is. We watch each other for a few seconds, neither of us saying anything. I rock back on my heels and finally break eye contact.

“Want a drink?” I move around him and pull a glass out of the cabinet.

He clears his throat. “Sure, I’ll take some water.”

I grab a second glass, get the pitcher of water out of the fridge, and pour us drinks. I chug down half of mine before filling it up again, needing the cool water to calm me down. A chair scrapes along the tile floor, and I know he’s taken a seat at the table. I set his glass in front of him and sit down.

Once again, there’s silence, and I have the urge to fill it, but before I can ask him what else we have to talk about, he starts speaking.

“We’re really going to do this?”

I trace the condensation on my glass. “I’m game if you are.”

“I am.” He clears his throat. “Do we need rules? A safe word?”

I snort. “A safe word, Weston Alexander? Not like we’re having sex. Because we’re not.”

“Hadley Jane, that’s not my middle name. Fine, no safe word. You sure about the no sex thing?” He bounces his eyebrows at me.

I roll my eyes in response, grateful he’s managed to cut the tension.

“Yes, Weston. No sex. None. Come to think of it, neither of us should be having sex with other people while we’re fake engaged.”

“If you change your mind …” He smirks. “But I agree, no sex with other people.” He leans forward, bracing his hands on the table. “You’re going to wear a ring.”

What the fuck? This is fake. No need for rings. I wave him away.

“We’ll say my ring is getting sized. Or cleaned. Or both.”

“For months? Nope.” He pops the p. “That’s my rule. And you’re living with me.”

“I already said I’ll stay with you, but we’re not sharing a room.” I point at him. “You better have a guest room with a decent bed.”

He takes a drink of water.

“That can be arranged. What do you want from this agreement? I feel like that’s fair given what I’ll be getting.”

I’m silent for a minute. What do I want? I turn his question over in my head for a few beats before I finally have an answer.

“Let me photograph you on the ice.” He furrows his brows, and my heart races. “I need more photographs for my portfolio. Let me take a few action shots of you playing hockey or running drills on the ice …” I frown because I haven’t actually thought this through. I haven’t been able to take good pictures in weeks, and now I’m asking him to let me take photos of him. Am I insane?

“Deal. Anything else?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“If you think of anything else, we can talk about it. I’ll book you a ticket on my flight.”

I cross my arms, leaning back in the chair. “I can book my own ticket.”

“No. I. Will. Buy. My. Fiancée. Her. Plane. Ticket.”

“Fine. But I don’t sit in the middle,” I say, trying to lighten the mood because the way he growled that sentence would have me agreeing to anything he asked.

He chuckles. “We’re sitting in first class, babe.”

I cringe.

“What?”

“That nickname. I hate it.”

“What nickname do you want instead?”

“None,” I tell him, finishing my glass of water. “I think we’re good, right? We should probably tell my parents.”

“But everyone else needs to think it’s real. Even our friends back in Florida.”

“I already told my friend Callie. Well, I told her about us faking our engagement for Henry’s party. So she’ll know this isn’t true. But she won’t say anything.”

“Fine.”

“Since I told one of my friends, it feels fair that you get to tell one of yours.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s all good. Holt knows. If I tell any of the others, it’ll get out to everyone.”

I chuckle because he’s right. The team loves to gossip. They’re a great bunch of guys who love their women and each other, but damn, do they love to talk. I swear you can’t tell one of them anything without the rest of them knowing within a day, sometimes a few hours.

“Fair enough,” I say. “How long are we staying fake engaged for?”

“The rest of the summer break, until the season starts? We can come up with a believable story about why we’re calling it off.”

“Okay.”

I grab my empty glass and take it over to the sink. I hope like hell this isn’t a mistake that I’ll be regretting by the end. Me and my fucking big mouth. Who would have thought it would get me into a mess like this—fake engaged to my brother’s best friend. Actually … I take that back, because somewhere deep down, I knew it would one day.

I just hope I can come out of it without Weston hating me. I wonder if he’ll find the love of his life after our arrangement is over? The way the rest of my exes have.

I sneak a peek over my shoulder to see him furiously typing on his phone.

He deserves to find his one. Even if I don’t believe it’ll ever happen for me, I still hope it happens for others.

Chapter ten

Wes

“Here we are,” I tell Hadley as the car I arranged to drive us home from the airport pulls up in front of my building.

“Hmmm …” Hadley mumbles, half asleep next to me.

“I said we’re here. Wake up, sleepy head.”

“I’m awake.” She sits up, yawning and stretching her arms above her head as best as she can in the back of the SUV. Her shirt rides up, and I can’t help staring at the skin that’s exposed, wondering if it’s as soft as it appears, if she’d break out in goosebumps if I ran my finger over it.

Get a grip.

Giving myself a mental shake, I open the passenger door and climb out. I meet our driver around the back, where he’s unloading our suitcases and my hockey bag. Eventually, Hadley joins us, the fuzzy blanket she insisted she needed, even though it’s a million degrees out, thrown over her shoulder, her camera bag and tote bag hanging off her other arm. I tip our driver, and he says goodbye before climbing back into the car and leaving. Hadley reaches for her suitcase, but I bat her hand away.

“I got it.”

“Weston William. Oooh, I like that one. Tell me that’s your middle name?”

“It’s not, Hadley Jane.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “There’s no way you’re going to be able to handle all the suitcases plus your equipment bag. Let me help. I’m quite capable since two of the bags are mine.”

She’s right.

I know she is.

Even between the two of us, I don’t know how we’re going to manage because, for some reason, she packed two large suitcases even though, according to Holt, she still has clothes at his house. I chose the path of least resistance and didn’t ask her if she needed both bags. The last thing I want to do is piss off my fake fiancée.

“How about you stay here, and I’ll bring up a few of the bags and come back for the rest of them.”

“We can do this, Weston Reynolds. You do have an elevator, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let’s go, because I’ve got to pee, and I’m starving.”

I chuckle, grabbing a couple of bags. Somehow, we manage to make it into the building with all our stuff. Thank goodness the front door has an RFID reader, and I don’t have to dig for a key; waving my wallet with my key card in it is enough to unlock it.

“I’m shocked there’s no doorman,” she says when we’re standing in front of the elevator surrounded by our stuff.

I push the Up button. “The doors are always locked. I’ll show you how to let someone in if they use the call box. The guys have a code they enter. I have a spare key card and key upstairs that I’ll give you.”

The elevator dings, and we cram everything inside, but Hadley and I end up in the corner, smushed together. I manage to push the button for the tenth floor, but when I drop my arm, I accidentally graze her boob. Shit. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice. As the elevator takes its time ascending, I realize just how cramped it is. I say a prayer that no one else wants to get on. She shifts closer, brushing against me.

Is it hot in here?

Because suddenly my body feels as though it’s on fire.

“Weston, are you okay?”

I swallow a few times, my throat feeling like sandpaper. “I think I’m a little claustrophobic crammed in like this.”

“Oh.” She shuffles backward, pushing one of her suitcases out of the way. “That better?”

“Yep,” I say, but it comes out as more of a squeak.

Fuck me.

Finally, the elevator stops, and the doors open slowly. Hadley gets out, pulling her bags with her. We make it down the short hallway to my apartment, and it only takes a few seconds for me to find the key and let us in.

She takes in the row of shoes by the door as she steps inside. I incline my chin, hoping she understands that it’s the signal for Yes, please, leave your shoes at the door, and don’t traipse through my clean apartment with nasty outdoor footwear. She gets the message, because she toes off her sneakers before wheeling her bags further into the apartment.

“Do you want a tour first? Or …” I ask.

“Bathroom, please.”

“Down the hall. Door on the left. Guest bedroom is on the right.”

She all but sprints in the direction I pointed.

I can’t help but chuckle as I slip off my sneakers and grab her tote and camera bag from where she dumped them by the door. I carry them into the kitchen and set them on the island. I flip through the mail my housekeeper collected while I was gone, noting it’s mostly garbage, before going to the fridge to see what our options are for dinner. Not much. I’m sure there’s something in the freezer I could thaw out quickly and make, but who wants to cook after a day of flying? I most certainly don’t.

“Phew, thank you,” Hadley says from behind me, and I turn to face her, resting a hip against the counter.

“Want to order takeout or go pick something up?”

She tilts her head, studying me. “Can we go to the taco place Hunter introduced Holt to?”

I grin. “Can do. How about I show you your room, and we can put your suitcases in there so they’re out of the way. I’ll run you over to Holt’s tomorrow so you can pick up his SUV.” He insisted Hadley drive his G-Wagon while he’s out of town. I would have bought her a car to drive for the summer, but he beat me to it, offering her his SUV.

“Okay.” She yawns, then grabs her tote bag and camera case.

A few minutes later, after our suitcases have been put in our bedrooms out of the way, I grab the keys to my Jeep so we can go get tacos. I would have preferred to unpack and shower before we went to get food, but the way Hadley keeps yawning, I’m afraid she’ll fall asleep if given the chance, so I figure we should probably eat first.

I sneak a few peeks at Hadley on the short drive to Locos Tacos. Each time I look over, she’s staring intently out her window, and I can’t get a read on her.

“You alright?” I finally ask. “Regretting your decision to agree to this?”

“No, not at all. Just tired. Traveling always makes me so sleepy.”

“Same. And I can never sleep on a flight. No matter how long it is.”

“I fall asleep for maybe five minutes before I startle myself awake. Even in the first-class seats, which were super nice by the way, I couldn’t get comfortable.”

“Me too.”

I’m able to find parking in the dirt lot behind the restaurant, and shockingly, the line is short. Must be my lucky day. Maybe I should go buy a lotto ticket.

When we reach the door, I grab two paper menus from the holder and hand one to Hadley.

“What are you getting?” she asks.

I skim the menu before saying, “Three tacos. One beef, one steak, and one chicken. With the works. You?”

“Chicken tacos.”

“Wanna share chips and guacamole?”

“Share? With you? Do you even know how to do that?” she asks with a laugh.

Before I can answer her, it’s our turn, and I step up to the counter and put in our order.

“Chips and guac?” I ask her again.

“Only if you think you can share with me,” she sasses.

I shake my head as I move down to the cashier and order chips and guacamole. Hadley comes up behind me and pulls out her wallet.

“Your money is no good here,” I tell her.

“Weston, I can pay for my own food,” she hisses.

“Stop protesting, Hadley Jane, and just say thank you,” I retort, handing my card to the cashier, who glances between the two of us before completing the transaction. I grab our food bags, and we head out the door of the restaurant in silence.

“Thank you,” Hadley finally says.

“Was that so hard?”

“No, Weston Adam, but I wasn’t expecting you to pay for my dinner.”

“Adam? That’s not my middle name.”

“So what is it? It’s only fair that I know yours if you know mine, especially since we’re engaged.”

I say nothing, unlocking my Jeep and opening her door. I wait for her to be safely inside before getting in and handing her the bags of food.

“What’s your middle name?” she repeats as I buckle my seat belt and push the start button.

“None of your business,” I say as I back out of the parking spot.

“Fine. Be that way, Weston Theodore.”

I snort. “That’s not it either.”

“Well, I’ll figure it out.”

“If you say so.”

I swear I can hear her eye roll, but I ignore it.

“What do you enjoy photographing?” I ask after a few minutes.

“Depends. Wildlife photography is my favorite. But I like other types too—sports, events, and even street photography. Why?”

“Just curious. Trying to get to know my fake fiancée better.”

“Well, your fake fiancée is failing at being a photographer,” she mutters.

“What do you mean?” I ask as I pull into the parking lot of my apartment complex.

She doesn’t say anything, and I wonder if she’s going to answer my question. It’s none of my business, and I won’t push her, but I am curious. Inside my apartment, we make our way to the kitchen, and she takes a seat at the counter and starts pulling our food out of the bags.

“Water?” I ask, grabbing two glasses out of the cabinet.

I make a mental note to find out what things she likes to eat and drink so I can add them to my weekly grocery order.

“Please.”

I fill up the cups, pass her one, then sit next to her.

We eat in silence for a few minutes before she says, “Do you really want to know?”

I pause, my taco halfway to my mouth. “Hadley, if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that if I ask you a question, of course I want to hear your answer.”

She studies me for a couple of seconds before setting her half-eaten taco down on the wrapper and saying, “I’ve been doing this whole photography thing for a few years now, except for when I was here helping Holt last season with Hazel, and still haven’t established myself.”

I start to ask her what she means, but she shakes her head at me, so I keep my mouth shut.

“I’ve done some weddings and family photographs. Regularly, if I’m being honest. But they’re not what I want to do. They’re …” She trails off as if trying to come up with the right word. “Boring. I mean, they paid the bills, but that’s it. I quit the studio I was working at right before Holt found out he was a dad. Timing on that one worked out perfectly.” She huffs, her shoulders slumping. “I know what I want to do, but it’s not an easy field to break into. I’ve applied for a few jobs around Ontario for athletic events, but either never heard anything or got rejected. I’ve even applied to a few venues that were advertising for photographers for concerts and festivals, and nothing.”

“That’s tough,” I say after a few seconds.

“I don’t want to do weddings and family portraits my whole career. I thought about selling photographs through stock image sites, but there’s only so much of it I can do. Plus, the pay isn’t great. I haven’t figured out what my calling is, I guess. Maybe I never will. Especially because every time I’ve picked up my camera lately, the photographs haven’t come out right.” She frowns, staring down at her plate.

With a resigned sigh, she picks up her taco and resumes eating, as if she didn’t just tell me she might never figure out what she wants to do with her life.

“They look fine, technically speaking, but they’re not right,” she adds.

How did I not know all this before?

I think back to our conversations over the years and internally cringe at myself when I realize most of them were either about hockey, about Hazel or Holt, or us giving each other shit. I make a mental note to do better when it comes to Hadley. To get to know her better. Especially now that we’re in this fake engagement.

My mind whirls at how I can help her. Madison owns a custom cake shop; maybe she has connections with an event organizer who needs a new photographer. I can ask Aubrey if she knows of anything. There’s got to be someone I know who can connect her with someone else who could help her land a job.

“Well, I think I’m going to unpack, shower, and get ready for bed,” Hadley says, balling up her taco wrappers a few minutes later.

“I’m not far behind you. There are towels in the linen closet, and the sheets on the bed are fresh. My housekeeper put them on when she cleaned yesterday.”

“Thanks, Weston. Night.”

“Night,” I tell her, watching her walk down the hall toward the bedroom.

I spend the next few minutes pottering around the kitchen, washing up our cups and wiping down the table before heading to my room to get ready for bed, trying not to think about the fact that Hadley Jane Abbott is literally steps away from me in the shower. Naked. The girl of my fucking dreams is in my apartment naked. Knock it off, Weston.

She’s not yours.

Not really.

Even though I really want her to be.

Chapter eleven

Hadley

The sun is streaming into my window when I wake up the next morning. I sit up and stretch, glancing at the clock on the nightstand to see that it’s a little after ten. Guess I was tired after all the travel. I feel bad that it’s already so late. Weston promised to take me to pick up the G-Wagon, and here I am, sleeping in. He probably wants to go skate and work out, not wait around for me to get up.

I throw back the covers and get out of bed, then head to the bathroom and hurry through my morning routine. Once that’s done, I go into the kitchen in need of caffeine. My steps falter as I take in Weston, peeking into the fridge, his back to me, clad only in a pair of navy-blue boxers.

Fuck, that man is built. His back is covered in muscles and tattoos.

Shit.

I should not be ogling my fake fiancé.

My roommate.

My brother’s best friend.

As quietly as I can, I start to back out of the kitchen, but as I’m about to turn around and hightail it to my bedroom, I misjudge where I’m going. I slam my elbow into the corner of the entranceway, throwing me off balance, and I topple to the ground. Never said I was graceful.

“Shit,” I hiss, rubbing my elbow.

That will definitely leave a mark. Probably a bruise. I squeeze my eyes closed, hoping he didn’t hear me. Maybe he’s got headphones in.

“What the—”

Nope, not my lucky day.

I open my eyes to find him hovering over me.

In his boxers.

All of his tattoos on display.

Wearing wire-frame glasses.

Holy fuck, the man wears glasses. Kill me now. Glasses are my weakness.

“Glasses?” I squeak.

He smirks, pushing said glasses up his nose. “Yep. But I usually wear contacts.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, peering down at me, his gray eyes sweeping over my body as if he’s trying to check for injuries.

I’m too stunned to answer. Not from the fall, but from the man towering over me with not a care in the world that I’m staring up at him from the floor while he’s wearing basically nothing.

“Yep. Yep. Yep.” I finally manage to say as I scramble to my feet. “I’m just gonna …” I skirt around him, ready to make a mad dash to my room. I’ve only made it a couple of steps out of the kitchen when he speaks again.

“Whoa, tornado, slow down.”

I pause, turning to face him. “Tornado?”

“You tried to blow out of here like one …”

I crinkle my brow, unsure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.

He must notice my confusion because he shrugs, running a hand over his naked chest, and I can’t help following the movement. I swallow roughly. Weston is all muscles. Muscles and tattoos. And glasses. Can’t forget the glasses. Icing on the fucking cake.

“Eyes up here,” he murmurs, and when I meet his gaze, I realize he’s smirking.

“You’re the one who’s practically naked,” I hiss, trying to act as though I’m not affected by the sight in front of me. “What the hell, Weston? Where are your pants?”

He gives me a sheepish grin. “I forgot you were here.” He pulls at the back of his neck, his face turning red. “How about I make you breakfast? As an apology for forgetting my pants. I make a mean omelet.”

My stomach rumbles, and I wrap my arms around my midsection. “Deal, but please put pants on first.”

He gives me a mock salute before sauntering out of the room, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t checking out his ass. I can’t help it. He’s hot. Nothing wrong with looking. He’s the one who was walking around in just boxers.

Blowing out a breath, I pour myself a big mug of coffee in hopes that it’ll take my mind off him and the way he looked.

“Please don’t be one of those people who drinks their coffee black,” I mutter. “Gross.”

Opening the fridge, I find a variety of creamers. Score. I stare at them for a few seconds like a kid in a candy shop before deciding on the hazelnut flavor.

“I see you’re going with my favorite.”

I startle and turn around to see him leaning against the entranceway of the kitchen, watching me, his arms and legs crossed. That was fast. At least he’s dressed now. Not that what he’s wearing is much better since he’s sporting a pair of gray sweatpants, a worn Storm shirt, and bare feet. His glasses are gone, sadly, but his black hair is still messy as though he’s been running his hand through it.

I raise an eyebrow. “I’m shocked you have so many.”

“I like to keep things interesting.”

He steps into the kitchen and reaches around me, grabbing a frying pan off the drainboard. He sets it on the stove top.

I take my mug and sit at one of the barstools where we ate dinner last night and watch him crack a couple of eggs into a bowl.

“Spinach? Onions?” he asks, holding both items up. I nod. “Cheese and ham?”

“Yes, please. What are your plans today?”

“Work out at the arena and then maybe skate for a little while. Depends on who’s there. Hunt said he was going to try to get there this morning, depending on how Mads is feeling. I’ve got a few errands to run.” He starts chopping the vegetables. “What about you?”

“Probably go to the grocery store. Unpack more. Maybe I’ll call Madison and see if she’s up for a visit.”

“Oh, before I forget.” He sets the knife down on the cutting board, wipes his hands on the kitchen towel, and walks out of the room.

“Um, oh-kay,” I mutter to myself.

He comes sauntering in a minute later with a jewelry box in his hand.

“Weston Albert, what did you do?”

He snorts. “Not my middle name. And relax, it’s nothing. First, this is for you to use.” He holds out a black Amex credit card.

“I can’t take that.”

“Hadley Jane, you are my fiancée for all intents and purposes. My fiancée would have my credit card. Don’t worry, I added you as an approved user thingy, whatever it’s called, earlier this morning.” He shakes the card at me.

“I can’t. It’s too much.”

“Take. It.” He thrusts it at me again, and I finally accept it. “And you better use it.”

“Or what? Are you going to punish me? Spank me?”

His eyes widen for a brief second before he clears his throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I roll my eyes.

“This is for you too. If it doesn’t fit, we can get it sized.” He opens the jewelry box. In it is the most gorgeous ring I have ever seen in my life, a sapphire surrounded by small diamonds, set in a simple yet intricate band. “I know it’s not a diamond.” He shifts on his feet. “It was my mom’s. If you want a diamond, we can get one.”

I peel my attention away from the ring that I would have picked for myself to meet his gaze. “I can’t wear that.” I peer down at it. His mom’s ring? No. Nope. I can’t wear it. That makes it seem too real. “Just get me a fake one.”

“Hadley, please.”

“What happens if I damage it? Or lose it? Then you won’t have it for the actual woman you want to marry. I couldn’t do that to you or her.”

“But I want you to wear it. It’s insured. At least try it on.”

I stare at it for a few seconds, chewing on my bottom lip. Part of me really wants to because it’s gorgeous, and it would be fun to at least try it on. It probably won’t fit, and then I can suggest we pick out a cheap one.

“Fine,” I concede.

He takes the ring out of the box, and I hold my hand out to him.

“This isn’t how I expected to get engaged,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

“I can get down on one knee if you want me to.” He starts to lower himself to the floor.

“As much as I’d love to see you on your knees for me, it’s fine.” Except now I’m picturing him kneeling in front of me, that devilish grin on his face as he tells me he’s going to ruin me for all other men before he …

“Have it your way, tornado.”

Still not sure how I feel about the nickname. I don’t hate it.

He slides the ring onto my finger, and it fits, like it was made for me. He gives my hand a quick squeeze before releasing it.

“Shit,” I mutter, staring down at the ring. “It’s beautiful.” I peer up at him. “Are you sure?”

He gulps and nods before spinning on his heel and going back to making my breakfast.

“Okay,” I concede, because it seems as though it means a lot to him that I wear it. I don’t know why. I would have thought he’d want to lock it away in a safe until he finds the woman he wants to marry for real, but who am I to question it? “If it’s what you want.”

He glances at me over his shoulder as he cooks my omelet. “It is. Toast?” He holds up a loaf of bread.

“Please.”

He pops two slices in the toaster before turning the stove off and plating my omelet.

“Will you tell me about your mom? And your dad?” I ask when he sets my breakfast in front of me, along with the butter and utensils.

I know his parents died a few years ago, and he’s an only child, but other than that I’m clueless about his family.

He tilts his head, studying me, and I break eye contact to take a bite of my eggs, wondering if maybe I crossed a line. If it’s still too soon for him to talk about it—about them.

“She and my dad met in college. She was dating his roommate.” He lets out a bark of laughter. “She told me that when she met Dad, she knew he was the one, so she broke up with her boyfriend. According to my dad, he was oblivious to the whole thing until his roommate came in one day, yelling and cursing at him. The roommate moved out the next week, and Mom and Dad started dating.”

“Sounds like something out of a romance novel.”

“A nineties or early two thousands rom-com if you ask me. Anyway, they got married right after college, even though their parents thought it was a mistake. She was a teacher, and he was an engineer. They moved to Anchorage a few years later because Dad got a job there.” He clears his throat. “They had a lot of trouble getting pregnant before they had me. Even gave up trying to have kids and adopted retired sledding dogs. They always called me their miracle child because they were in their early forties when I was born.”

He pauses, a faraway look on his face. I have the urge to get up and hug him, offer him some comfort. I can’t imagine what he must feel missing them. But before I can, he’s speaking again.

“Mom loved to ice skate. My earliest memory is of her holding me as she skated on the rink my dad built for her outside our house. I was skating as soon as I could walk. I took figure skating lessons for a while. Did you know that?”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “I always wondered why you were so graceful on the ice. Now I know.”

And the gifts keep on giving. First the glasses. Now the figure skating. Wonder if he can still do turns, flips, whatever they’re called.

“And no, don’t ask me to do a double Axel because I couldn’t do it then, and I most definitely can’t do it now. I’m not about to break an ankle trying.” I giggle, picturing him attempting it, and he continues talking. “I had a happy childhood. Even though I didn’t have any siblings, it always felt like our family was complete, and I was never lonely. Probably because I started playing hockey young and was always surrounded by teammates.”

I pick up my toast and take a bite, staying silent.

“They were so proud when I made the NHL. I’d fly them in to see games. I offered to move them to Florida so they could be closer to me, but they didn’t want to leave the cabin.” He swallows. “It was rough having them so far away. I went to see them as often as I could. Uncle Rob, my dad’s best friend, was there too, which is why I think they wanted to stay. At least they let me hire someone to help them cook and clean and take care of the property. Not that it mattered in the end.”

“What happened?” I ask quietly.

He’s quiet for a few moments, tracing a pattern on the table.

“Dad fell on black ice going out to get more wood one evening, and Mom died not even a year later, probably of heartbreak.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, reaching over and laying my hand on top of his.

He gives me a small, sad smile, and when he speaks again, his voice is full of emotion. “That’s life, unfortunately.” I squeeze his hand, and he reaches over and runs his finger over the stone on my ring. “They would have liked you.”

“I’m sure I would have liked them too.”

We sit in silence for a while before he clears his throat and pulls his hand away. I let him go even though I don’t want to.

“A few years before he died, my dad told me he was adopted. I’ve been trying to find out if I have any biological family that I don’t know about.”

“Oh?” I take another bite of my eggs. He really does know how to make a tasty omelet.

“He met his biological mom once. But she didn’t have any other relatives. The whole single-child thing must run in the family. She didn’t know much about his bio dad except for his name.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Dad found his father’s death certificate, but no obituary or anything. I did one of those DNA things earlier this year, but haven’t gotten any matches yet.”

“I’m sorry.” I’m not sure if that’s the appropriate thing to say, but it’s the best I can come up with.

“Not a whole lot I can do. Maybe one day I’ll meet more relatives, but until that time, I’ll have to assume there’s no one else. Maybe my grandfather was an only child too.”

I go back to eating my food, thinking about what he said. I can’t imagine being all alone in the world, with no family. I mean, technically, he’s got my brother and the other guys as pseudo brothers, but I’m sure it’s not the same thing.

“Are you almost ready to go over to Holt’s?” he asks a few minutes later.

I shove the last bite of toast into my mouth, chewing and swallowing before getting to my feet and rinsing my plate and cup out.

“Give me a few minutes to change into going-out clothes.”

“I’m going to change too.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder toward his bedroom, and I nod, staring down at the ring sitting on my finger.

Why does it feel as if things with Weston just got a whole lot more complicated?

Chapter twelve

Wes

After my conversation with Hadley this morning, where I told her way more than I had planned to about my family, or lack thereof, I really need this workout. Not only has it been a few days since I hit the gym, but there’s been all the travel and the changes to my life, or at least temporary changes, so a workout to burn off some of my energy and anxiety is just what I need. I put my Jeep into park and grab my phone from its spot in the cupholder to see a text message from Hunter he sent while I was driving.

Hunt: Climbing into my truck. Be there shortly.

I text back a thumbs up and let him know I’m at the arena, grab my bag and water bottle, and head inside.

“Hey, Wes. Just the guy I was looking for,” Sutton, the head of PR, says as I turn the corner near the locker room.

I barely hold back my groan. It’s not that I don’t like, Sutton because I do. She’s great. I just have this sneaky suspicion that I know what she wants to talk about, and I was hoping to avoid this discussion.

“Hey. What’s up?”

She shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans and rocks back on her heels, surveying me. “I heard a rumor. A wild and crazy rumor, and I wanted to ask you about it.”

“Go ahead.” Here we go. This will be an interesting test to see if she buys what Hadley and I are selling.

“I heard you were engaged.”

“Yep,” I tell her, popping the p.

“To Hadley Abbott. Holt’s sister.”

“What about Hadley?” Hunter asks from behind me.

Man, he got here fast.

“I was just asking our boy here if the rumor that he’s engaged to Hadley is true,” Sutton tells Hunter.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his mouth fall open.

“So are you?” Sutton asks again.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, you’re what?” Hunter asks. “How long have you been dating? Why didn’t we know? Does Holt know? Why didn’t he say anything?”

I put up a hand, silencing my best friend. “One question at a time. Of course Holt knows.” I shrug. “It just kind of happened.” Not a lie. “We didn’t know where things were going at first, and with everything going on last season with Holt and Hazel …”

“Well, this is an interesting turn of events.” Sutton grins at me. “Congrats. I’m happy for y’all.”

“Thanks,” I tell her, relieved she just seems to be accepting the story.

“What do you think about letting our social media team follow you guys on a date? Well, not follow. They won’t stay the whole time. Just to get a few photos and maybe a quick video.” She puts her hand on my arm. “I think it would be great PR for the team and for you. Some behind-the-scenes, life of a hockey player in the off-season type of content. I’m sure the fans would eat it up.”

I pull at the back of my neck. “I’ll have to talk to Hadley. I’m not sure how she’ll feel about it …”

“Of course. Can you let me know by the end of the week?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect.” She checks something on her phone. “I’ve got to run to a meeting.”

With a wave, she walks away, leaving me with my best friend, the team captain, and the one guy besides Holt who knows me best. If anyone’s going to see through our lie, it’ll be Hunter. I brace for what he’s going to say as I turn to face him. What I don’t expect is the look of hurt on his face, and I immediately regret lying to him. I regret lying to Sutton too. Maybe I should tell him the truth. He’ll understand. But I can’t. Hadley and I have an agreement.

“Congratulations. E owes me fifty bucks.” E, or Elias, is his half-brother and another member of our team.

“You bet on me?” I all but shout.

“Well, yeah,” he says slowly. “You and Holt bet on Brody and Aubrey, so I figured turnabout and all that.”

I roll my eyes. Everyone except Brody knew those two would end up as a couple. I only had to see the two of them together for a few minutes at the team’s New Year’s Eve party a few years ago, where I first learned of Aubrey’s existence, to know they would never remain just best friends.

“Are you mad?” I ask, hoisting my bag further onto my shoulder and tipping my chin toward the locker room.

He follows me inside. “Not mad. A little disappointed you didn’t tell anyone you two were together, but I can understand, what with her being Holt’s sister and Hazel’s nanny. And with everything else last season …”

I drop my bag on the bench in front of my stall and start changing into my workout clothes.

Holt went through a lot last season when his ex, Kat, showed up at his door with his baby daughter, who he had no idea even existed, and left her with him. As the season went on, we found out just how manipulative Kat was while they were dating and how bad their relationship had been. I don’t hit women, but Kat sure made me want to hit her. But Holt’s with Becca now, our team’s PT, and she’s an amazing girlfriend and mom to Hazel—plus a great addition to the Storm family. I’m glad they figured things out, even though Kat didn’t make it easy. So now another friend of mine has found his happily ever after. And the way Hunter is staring at me, he thinks I’ve found mine too.

I didn’t think about how many hearts were on the line when I suggested that Hadley and I continue our fake engagement. And now I feel like such an idiot for not thinking things through. Not thinking about how our friends will feel when our fake engagement ends. Unfortunately, there’s not a whole lot I can do at this point. Might as well see it through and hope for the best.

“Sorry,” I finally manage to say after I’m dressed. “I didn’t want our engagement to come out the way it did. We were at a party last weekend for someone Hadley knew from back home, and photos were leaked of us.”

Hunter stands up from the bench where he was tying his sneakers. “Shit happens. I’m happy for you. That you found your one.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, grateful he bought the lie but feeling a little guilty about lying to him.

We make our way out of the locker room and into the weight room. A few other guys are there, but thankfully no one else asks me about my engagement, and Hunter and I get our workout done without interruption.

He leaves afterward to get home to Madison. I can’t say I blame him. She’s seven and a half months pregnant. If my wife were that pregnant, I wouldn’t want to leave her home alone for long either.

My mind flashes to Hadley pregnant, her stomach round, and holy shit, I start to get hard. I adjust myself, pushing the thoughts of Hadley pregnant with my baby out of my mind. She’s not mine for real. Even if she was, I don’t know if she wants kids.

I, on the other hand, very much want a family of my own. I have always wanted a big family. I don’t blame my parents for only having me; it’s just how it worked out. But it does make for a very lonely life not having siblings. Hell, not even having cousins.

I have no one.

And it sucks. It fucking sucks. Especially as my friends are starting their own families, and I’m the odd man out with no one.

But that’s neither here nor there. Right now, I want to get on the ice and skate for a little while. That always helps ground me, center me, and right now I could use that.

I head back into the locker room and throw on my gear, a pair of sweatpants, and my skates, before grabbing one of my sticks and a basket of pucks and walking down the hall to the practice arena.

I grin when I spot Brody. I’m not surprised. Even though he’s a coach now, his work ethic is still as high as it was when he played for the Storm, which means he works out and skates even in the off-season. Although I am a little shocked to see him since Aubrey is due in a few weeks.

“Hey, Wes,” Brody greets me when I hop on the ice and skate over to him.

“Hey, Daddy.”

He cringes. “Don’t call me that.”

I chuckle, pointing at him. “But you’ll be a dad soon.”

If looks could kill, I’d be dead.

“It’s Coach. Or Brody in the off-season. At this point, I’ll even accept Brod, but not fucking Daddy,” he says through gritted teeth.

I hold up my hands as if in surrender. “Okay, fine, I won’t call you Daddy. But I am shocked to see you here since Aubs is due so soon.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “She threw me out of the house.” I bark out a laugh. “Maybe threw is too strong a word. She told me to get the fuck out of her hair for a few hours.” He shakes his head, pointing at me. “But don’t tell her I told you that.”

“I won’t.”

“So, we’re planning the baby shower for …”

“Don’t,” he hisses. “I told you all, no baby shower. We don’t need anything.”

“But—” We’ve been having this argument since they told us they were pregnant.

“No.”

I blow out a breath, shoulders slumping. “Fine. But we want to celebrate the two of you. My gift is on its way.” I make a mental note to order them something when I get home, since I haven’t actually done so. I meant to, but other things got in the way. Like my fake engagement.

He raises a brow at me. “You just want an excuse to eat sweets.”

I snort. He smirks. Fucker’s got me.

“I heard a crazy rumor about you,” he says.

I groan, shaking my head.

“What’s going on? Because it feels a little off. Sutton said it’s true, but I don’t know. Something seems strange. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think it’s weird you and Hadley are together, but it is weird that none of us knew.”

“It’s fake,” I blurt out and then clamp a hand over my mouth, glancing around to make sure there’s no one else on the ice.

Shit, I shouldn’t have said that, but if anyone will understand, it’s him. Brody starts laughing, like full-on belly laughing, a sound I’ve never heard from him before.

“You are so screwed,” he says through his laughter. “So very screwed.”

I stare at him.

“Oh, come on.” He scoffs, finally composing himself. “That’s how Aubs and I started out, well, as fake boyfriend and girlfriend, and you know how we ended.” He holds up his left hand, wiggling his ring finger so his wedding band catches the light.

A pang of sadness washes through me that he’s married to the love of his life, and I’m in a fake relationship. I push the thought away. No time to feel sorry for myself.

“There’s no way we’re going to end up like the two of you. You two were destined for one another. Hadley and I … are not. I’ll be surprised if we pull this off.”

He frowns. “Why are you doing it?”

“This stays between us. The only other people who know are Holt, Becca, and Hadley’s parents.”

“Of course.”

I give him the short version of events. “I was trying to help Hadley out. Then it got leaked, and companies started knocking. I probably should have come clean to John.”

“Are you sure those are the only reasons why?”

He smirks at me. The man fucking smirks, and if he wasn’t one of my best friends and my coach, I probably would check him into the boards.

“Brody,” I warn.

“I’m just saying.”

“Don’t just say,” I grind out. “Are we going to skate or stand around and gossip like old people? Or are you tired, old man? Need a break?”

I know I’m changing the subject abruptly, but I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I don’t need anyone analyzing why I’m doing it, and if there’s anyone who’s going to figure out the real reason, it’s Brody. He can read people, on and off the ice, extremely well. That’s what made him a top point leader in the league and a future Hall of Famer, and that’s what makes him a great assistant coach. The last thing I need right now is him asking too many questions.

He shoves me. “I might be retired, but I’ve still got it.”

“Sure.” I skate away, moving in front of the net, grateful that he’s letting the subject of my fake engagement go. “Let’s see if you can get the puck around me.”

“You’re on.”

We spend the next two hours running drills until both of us are sweating and out of breath, and my legs feel like lead.

“I should probably get home to Aubs,” he says when we make it back to the bench.

I nod, once again feeling the pang of sadness at being left behind while my friends start families of their own, and I’m left with no one. Hadley’s face pops into my mind, and I’m grateful that at least right now I do have someone. I have her. Even if it is fake.

I’m sure she’s wondering where I am. Or maybe she’s not. But either way, I should go too. I need to tell her what I told Sutton and Hunter about our relationship. I can only hope she hasn’t told anyone anything different.

“You can’t tell anyone about what we discussed before. Not even Aubrey,” I tell Brody.

He shakes his head. “I can’t not tell Aubs. We tell each other everything. I am not keeping this secret from my wife, my very pregnant and hormonal—although don’t tell her I said that—wife.”

I get it. I do. I wouldn’t want my spouse keeping secrets from me.

“Fine. But no further. She can’t tell anyone.”

“Scouts honor.” He holds up two fingers.

I snort. “Were you even in the Scouts?”

“No, but it seemed like the right thing to say.”

We collect the pucks strewn about the ice before heading to the locker rooms.

I check my phone, but don’t have any missed calls or texts from Hadley. And then it hits me—we never exchanged numbers. That has me hurrying through a shower and quickly changing my clothes so I can get home to her.

Chapter thirteen

Hadley

Shit. Shit. Shit. All I wanted to do was make Weston a nice meal to thank him for, well, everything, and I went and burned the chicken. I’m usually a fine cook. I can’t make anything fancy, but everything tastes good and isn’t burnt. But not today, apparently.

I glare at the oven, although it’s not the oven’s fault. It’s mine. I forgot to set a timer and then got caught up tweaking my portfolio and resume. What was supposed to take ten minutes took over an hour, which meant burning dinner because I was so focused on my task and forgot I had something cooking. It also had me second-guessing every photo I’ve ever taken and thought was good, because maybe they’re not that great. Maybe I can’t land a job because I’m not a good photographer.

I should probably go to the grocery store and grab something else for dinner, but at that moment, the front door opens.

“Honey, I’m home,” Weston yells.

Fuck.

“Hi, fiancée,” he greets me when he walks into the kitchen. “What is … oh.” He steps closer to me, peering down at the burnt chicken and vegetables on the pan. “I’ll eat pretty much anything, but I think that’s a little much.”

“Sorry,” I huff out. “I fucked up and forgot to set a timer.” Tears well in the corner of my eyes, and I roughly run my hand over my face to get rid of them. I whirl around and pull the garbage can out so I can scrape the burnt food into it. “I’ll run to Publix and grab a rotisserie chicken and a bag or two of frozen vegetables.”

“Hadley?”

“I fucking ruined dinner,” I snap, scraping at the pan with the spatula so aggressively that pieces of burnt carrots and broccoli go flying onto the floor. “For fuck’s sake.”

“Hey. Hey.” He grabs the spatula and gently yanks on it until I let go. Then he takes the pan from my other hand. I hear a clatter as he sets them in the sink. “Hadley. Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing, Weston,” I say, gazing down at the floor and wrapping my arms around myself. “I’m having a bad day.”

Can this conversation please be over? I want to go to my room so I can cry in peace about not only the ruined dinner but my inadequacies as a photographer. I’m not even hungry anymore. I take a step away from him, moving toward the hallway.

“Hadley,” he says, stepping in front of me, his tone softening. “Look at me.”

“No, Weston.” I shake my head.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, bending almost in half so he’s peering up at me. “What happened?” His eyes dart around, and as if it dawns on him how close he is to me, he quickly steps back.

“Nothing. I’m tired is all. I think I’ll call it an early night,” I mumble as I push past him into the hallway.

When I’m safely in my room, I sag against the door, tears streaming down my face. Thank you, period hormones, for making everything feel even worse. I take a few breaths, trying to calm down.

“Hadley.” He knocks a few minutes later, startling me, and I jump back, staring at the door. I should have locked it, although I know he won’t come in without permission. “Hadley Jane,” he says, knocking again. “Can I do anything? Do you want me to call someone for you? Becca? Madison? Sutton?” I hear noises outside, and I picture him pulling out his phone and dialing one of them. Why does he have to be so sweet on top of being sexy?

With a sigh, I pull the door open, praying it’s been long enough that my eyes and nose aren’t red from crying anymore.

“I’m fine. No need to worry.”

“But I am worried.” He scans me from head to toe before grimacing and taking a tentative step forward. “What happened? The last thing I want to do is make you cry. I’m not mad that dinner was burnt. We can order takeout, or I can run to the store.”

“I overreacted.” I hang my head. “I was pissed I burned dinner. I cry when I get mad.” I throw up my arms. “It’s embarrassing. I hate it.” I leave out the whole spiraling about my portfolio part because it feels silly in hindsight.

“It’s okay. Did something else happen?”

I shake my head even though part of me wonders if I should tell him. But I feel like a broken record. I’ve already told him how worried I am about my career. How I don’t know if I’m good enough. What good would telling him again do?

“Nope. Just female things.” I wince. I shouldn’t be embarrassed admitting that to him, but I am.

“Do you want a hug?” He holds out his arms.

I hesitate. I kind of do, but I’m also afraid that if I hug him, we’ll start down a path we can’t come back from.

“Never mind.” He starts to move away.

“Wait,” I all but shout, my need for comfort outweighing my nervousness about crossing a line. “Yes, hug, please.”

I step into his embrace and immediately relax as he slowly strokes my back. My eyes flutter shut as a feeling of being home settles in my chest. That’s not possible. How can it be? I push the feeling away and give him one final squeeze before pulling out of his arms.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” He takes a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Can I do anything for you? I probably have a bar or two of milk chocolate in the fridge. There’s a half-eaten bag of gummy bears in the pantry. I need to go to the store to replenish my sweets drawer now that I’m back in town.” He pauses, glancing around. “I can draw you a bath. I don’t have bubble bath, but I do have Epsom salts. I can run to the store and get you some bubble bath.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble …”

“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Plus, I’m your guest. I don’t want to put you out. I’m sure you’re exhausted, and now we don’t even have anything for dinner.”

“How about we order takeout and watch a movie?” My stomach chooses that moment to grumble, answering his question. He stares pointedly at it. “What do you want to eat?”

“Whatever is fine.”

“What. Are. You. In. The. Mood. For. Hadley Jane?” He levels me a look that says I better give him an answer, or else. Part of me wants to know what the or else is, but that’s never happening because we’re just faking it.

“Pizza.”

“What kind of pizza? Do you want dessert or anything? I’ll swing by Publix on the way home. Wine? Beer? I don’t know what you drink.”

“Meat lovers.” I lick my lips involuntarily, and I swear I see something flash over his face as he watches me. I cringe, realizing the double entendre. I clear my throat. “I’m not in the mood for alcohol, so water’s fine, or maybe some tea, if you have any.”

“I don’t, but I’ll stop at the store. What kind do you want? I know peppermint is good for an upset stomach. Not sure if it will help with …” He waves his hand at me as if he’s not sure how to phrase it.

“You don’t have to stop by the store. I’ll drink water.”

“Hadley, let me take care of you. You’re my fiancée.”

“Fake fiancée.”

“We want to sell this relationship, right? This is how we do it.”

I sigh, feeling the start of cramps. “I don’t know about that since no one else is here to know, but if you insist, peppermint tea would be good and a bar of dark chocolate with almonds too. Oh, and chocolate peanut butter ice cream while you’re at it.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

I shake my head.

“I’m gonna go change, and then I’ll go. If you want to take a bath, you can use my bathroom. The tub is bigger. There’s Epsom salts under the sink. Text me if you think of anything else.”

“I need your number to be able to text you.”

“Right. Give me your phone, and I’ll put my number in.”

I unlock my phone and hand it to him.

He types on it for a few seconds. “Done. I sent myself a text.” He gives it back to me before heading toward his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

I laugh when I see how he put his name in my phone—Number One Fiancé.

Weston Reynolds surprises me each and every day I spend with him. Although I shouldn’t be so shocked. I knew he was a good man based on how he is with his teammates, what he’s done for Holt, for all of the guys, and how he is with Hazel. I just didn’t expect to have that attention and care directed at me.

I cannot fall for my fake fiancé.

I cannot.

In a few months, this will all be over. He’ll move on with his life, and I’ll move on with mine.

Because this is all fake.

The best we can be is friends.

Chapter fourteen

Wes

“I’m back,” I yell as I step into my condo an hour or so later.

“Hey,” Hadley says, walking into the kitchen, her blonde hair wet, presumably from what I hope was a relaxing bath she took while I was gone.

I took my time at the store to give her extra time alone. It broke my heart earlier to see her so upset and then shut down when I tried to help. I know we’re not genuinely together, but I did want to do whatever I could to make her feel better. She’s my friend after all.

“Did you buy the whole store?” She tips her chin at all the bags on the kitchen counter.

“Just a few essentials.” I start unpacking everything. “The tea, ice cream, and chocolate you requested. Plus, I grabbed a bottle of Advil and a heating pad. Madison said this is the one she’d recommend.” I hold up the box. “I wasn’t sure if you had one.” Her mouth hangs open. Shit, I hope I didn’t overstep. I wanted her to be comfortable, but maybe I’m really making her uncomfortable. Shit. I’m about to tell her I can take it back when she finally speaks.

“That was sweet of you.”

“Of course. If you need me to run out and get anything else, I will.”

“Thanks. I think I’m good. And if I’m not, I can just go get it. I do have a car now.”

I step closer to her, and I tell myself it’s so I can unpack the groceries, but honestly, I want to be near her.

“I know. But who wants to go out when they don’t feel good?”

“I appreciate it. Let me know how much I owe you. For dinner too,” she rushes out.

“Nothing.”

“Weston Gabriel.”

I chuckle. I should tell her my middle name. It seems only fair. But I kind of like this game, and I enjoy seeing her riled up because I know hers and she doesn’t know mine.

“Not my middle name. But good try, Hadley Jane.”

“Fine. But next time, I’ll buy dinner.”

“With my credit card,” I say, putting the ice cream in the freezer. “Otherwise, no, you won’t.” She crosses her arms but doesn’t respond. “Chocolate in the fridge?” I hold up the three bars I grabbed at the store. Did I go overboard? Maybe. But who cares. Chocolate is good for the soul. Especially when you don’t feel well.

“Yes. Room temperature chocolate is gross.” She shudders.

A woman after my own heart.

I unpack the rest of the groceries. I grabbed a few other necessities so I don’t have to put in a grocery order for a few more days. Once everything is put away, we take the pizza to the kitchen table and start eating.

After I’ve eaten a slice, I clear my throat, wiping my hands on a napkin.

“My agent called when I was on my way home from Publix. He wants to meet with us tomorrow at two thirty. Does that work for you?”

“That’s fine. What should I wear?”

“Whatever you want. It’s nothing formal. He just wants to talk about these offers and meet you. Make sure you wear your ring.” I noticed she didn’t have it on when I came home earlier.

“Okay.”

“I’ll probably go work out in the morning. Nothing too long, though, since we need to leave here by two.”

“I’ll be ready.”

I take another slice of pizza out of the box and set it on my plate. “Sutton cornered me at the arena …”

“Oh?”

I fiddle with my napkin before relaying what Sutton asked earlier. “So, what do you think?”

She tilts her head, studying me. “Seems silly that anyone would care, but if it’s going to help you and the team.” She shrugs. “I’m game.”

“Okay. I’ll let her know.”

Mentally, I’m jumping up and down because this means I get to take her out on a date. Yes, it’s for PR, and it’s fake, but I still get to spend time with her. I need to make this date so amazing that she agrees to go out with me again, when it isn’t for social media content.

We finish eating our dinner in silence, comfortable silence though, as if we’ve been together for a while. Nothing with Hadley so far has felt awkward. It’s as if we were always meant to be. If only she felt that way too, but I’m hopeful that we’ll get there.

“Ready to watch a movie?”

“Just about.”

“What do you want to watch?” I ask before shoving the rest of my pizza into my mouth.

“Whatever,” she says.

“Not going to work, Hadley. Just like dinner, I want to know what you’re in the mood for.”

She takes a bite of her food, watching me while she chews. She swallows and takes a drink of water. Is she stalling? Hoping I’ll cave? I have no problem waiting for her to reply. I can be stubborn when I want to be. And right now, I want to know her answer. I want to know more about her. I want to know everything about her. I have always wanted to know anything she’s willing to tell me. And now we’re fake engaged, I have an excuse as to why.

“I enjoy rom-coms. The early two-thousands ones. I’m sure you’re not interested in them,” she says before putting the last of her dinner into her mouth.

I wipe my hands on a napkin. Doesn’t she know I’m a romantic at heart? Those movies are my guilty pleasure. One the guys don’t know about because I know I won’t hear the end of it.

“Come on,” I say, getting to my feet and walking into the living room. She trails behind me. I walk over to the TV stand and pull open one of the drawers. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t found this. Unless you did, and you’re being polite.”

“Weston,” Hadley gasps, peering over my shoulder at the drawer full of nineties and early two-thousands rom-coms. “You were holding out on me.” She puts her hands over her heart in mock outrage.

“I didn’t know you were an aficionado. And I couldn’t out myself. So, what do you want to watch? I’m sure I’ve got it here.”

“Oh, so many choices. How does one choose?” She scans the available titles while I watch her.

Is it fate that we both like the same kind of movies? I’ve never told any of the few other women I’ve dated about my preference for rom-coms. Couldn’t tell you why. But there’s something about Hadley that makes me want to bare my soul to her.

“How about How to Lose A Guy in Ten Days?”

“Classic,” I say, grabbing the DVD and handing it to her. “I’ll clean up in the kitchen. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the couch?”

“I can help.”

I shake my head and point to the couch, which is currently covered in what appears to be every blanket and sweatshirt she owns, before I head into the kitchen to clean up and grab us drinks.

Ten minutes later, I take a seat next to where she’s wrapped in her fuzzy blanket, the other blankets and clothes piled on the floor in the corner. I bite my tongue to keep from asking her to put them away because she doesn’t feel good, and the last thing I want to do is be a nag. Instead, I flip the light off so I don’t have to see the mess and start the movie.

Halfway through, I peer over at her and frown at the sight. She’s twisted into a pretzel, lying down in a tiny space on the couch. I pick up the remote and hit pause.

“Are you comfortable like that?”

“Not really.”

Damn. Now I wish I had a bigger couch so she could spread out.

“I swear I’m not trying to put the moves on you, but I have a TV in my room. We can watch the rest of the movie there so you can stretch out on the bed … if you want.”

She sighs, and now I’m second-guessing my offer. Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested it, but I want her to be comfortable, and she sure as hell doesn’t seem to be right now.

“Okay,” she says, sitting up.

I take the DVD out of the player, she grabs her blanket, and we head into my bedroom. I put the movie in while she gets situated on the bed. She keeps to one side and stays on top of the comforter, pulling her blanket over her. I take my spot on the other side and turn the movie back on.

When the credits roll, I realize she’s sound asleep. I reach over and turn on the bedside light, then shut off the TV. I should wake her and tell her to go to her own bed, right? But what happens if she’s like me, and once she wakes up, that’s it, she won’t fall back to sleep. I’d hate to be the reason she doesn’t sleep well.

With a shake of my head, I walk into my bathroom, closing the door behind me, and go about my nightly routine of taking my contacts out and brushing my teeth. I keep expecting to hear her moving around, waking up and realizing she isn’t in her bed. Leaving quietly. But that doesn’t happen.

I walk out of the bathroom and stare at her sleeping form, willing her to wake up so I don’t have to make the decision of what to do. On one hand, I want to wake her so she doesn’t get angry at me when she finds out I didn’t. Or embarrassed. Although there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. On the other hand, I don’t want to disturb her sleep. But what if she has a nightly routine she needs to do? Or medication she takes at night? Shit. What am I supposed to do? I pace at the end of the bed for a few seconds.

“Hadley.” I shake her gently.

“Mmmm.”

“Hadley Jane, wake up. You fell asleep.”

“So what? It’s nighttime. Let me sleep,” she mumbles, rolling over onto her side and pulling the blanket up to her chin.

Well. I tried.

Should I sleep on the couch? I glance over my shoulder toward the living room. Nah, fuck that. This bed is big enough for the both of us.

I pull off my shirt, set my glasses on the nightstand, climb under the covers, and turn off the bedside light, bathing my bedroom in darkness. The only sound is her quiet snores.

I lie rigidly on my side, willing myself to fall asleep quickly.

Get it together, Wes.

I steady my breathing and force myself to think about something calming, like ocean waves. I should get a sound machine. Maybe it’ll help me get to sleep faster. I worked out and skated today, for hours. I should be tired. I think I’m too keyed up because Hadley is in my bed.

Hadley’s in my bed.

Tomorrow is going to be interesting.

Eventually, my body relaxes, and I fall asleep.

Why is the heat on? Did I forget to turn on the fan last night?

Blinking open my eyes, I realize why I’m so hot. Because in the middle of the night, Hadley and I ended up cuddled together. She’s still lying on top of the comforter, but her blanket is over both of us now.

I hold my breath, hoping she’s still asleep. Her even breathing is all the confirmation I need. I move my arm, which is wrapped around her waist. Thank god I didn’t wake up cupping her tits or, much worse, her pussy. And now I’m thinking about Hadley’s tits and pussy.

Fuck me.

Focus, Weston.

When she doesn’t move, I scoot backward until I’m lying on the edge of the bed. Only then do I sit up and grab my phone, noting that it’s already late into the morning.

Shit.

I had planned to be done with my workout by now.

I grab my glasses and shove them on, then climb out of bed, saying a silent prayer that she stays asleep because I definitely don’t have time to talk this through with her and get a workout in before I need to be back here to get ready for our meeting with John.

It’s not until I’m in the kitchen fixing myself breakfast that I fully think about everything that happened last night.

I like Hadley. There’s no two ways about it. I’ve always liked her. Since the first day I met her.

I’m so conflicted. The last thing I want to do is make things awkward between us if I tell her I like her for real and she doesn’t feel the same way, especially because we agreed to see this through for the rest of the summer.

I’ll just have to keep my true feelings hidden for now.

Chapter fifteen

Hadley

This bed is super comfortable, and it smells like … My eyes pop open. Why does this bed smell like Weston?

I scramble to sit up, realizing I’m dressed in yesterday’s clothes, relieved to see the other side of the bed is empty.

Why am I in Weston’s bed?

Memories from last night come crashing back.

Dinner. Watching a movie. Moving to his bed so I’d be more comfortable.

I think he tried to wake me. I thought I was dreaming, but no, I think that was Weston trying to wake me up. I usually sleep like the dead.

Shit, I feel bad.

I drop my head into my hands. I hope he doesn’t hate me for our inadvertent bed-sharing situation. But he’s the one who suggested we watch the end of the movie here and who turned off all the lights. Not my fault his bed is comfortable, and apparently, I was tired.

Might as well face the music and get the awkwardness over with. I climb out of bed and wrap my blanket around me.

“Weston?” I call as I walk toward the kitchen.

No response.

I notice a piece of paper propped up against the half-full coffee pot. I snatch it up and read:

Tornado,

I didn’t want to wake you. I went to get a workout in. I’ll be home in time to shower and get ready to go meet John.

*heart* Your Fiancé.

He had to.

Didn’t he?

I fix myself a cup of coffee before heading into my bathroom to get ready for the day. Once I’m dressed, I head back into the kitchen and help myself to a couple of leftover slices of pizza from the box in the fridge. Taking my brunch with me, I sit down at the counter and power on my laptop that I left here last night, next to the books I’m currently reading and my current notebooks.

Might as well apply for those jobs I found. I’m still not one hundred percent happy with my portfolio, but it’ll have to do for now.

Once I’m done eating, I start the application process for the first one. Two hours fly by, and I’m finally down to one job left. The one I’m most excited for. The one I’m trying not to get my hopes up about.

It’s a year-long contract with an organization that runs tours around the world. They’re hiring a photographer to travel with them and take pictures. Apparently, it’s a new package they’re planning to offer for some of their trips. While it isn’t my first choice of type of photography, it would allow me to see the world. Something I’ve been wanting to do for years. Plus, travel, accommodation, and food are paid for, and I’d get a stipend for any equipment I need, which sounds extremely generous.

I spend quite a bit of time filling out the application and answering all their questions. I know it’s a long shot because I’m sure there are many people more qualified for the role, but you never know unless you try, or some BS like that, right?

“You can do this, Hadley. Hit Submit,” I mutter, the mouse hovering over the button.

I skim the application one more time, making sure I’ve answered everything to the best of my ability, and finally hit Apply. Once I get confirmation that it’s been submitted, I exit out of the site and close my computer.

I take a few shaky breaths, wiping my sweaty hands on my shorts. How am I going to focus on anything else until I hear back from them? How will I manage for the next few weeks, or even months, until I get an answer? Before I can spiral too much, the front door opens.

“Honey, I’m home,” Weston yells.

“You don’t have to announce yourself like you’re the fucking King of England, Weston. No one else lives here. I think I know who it is,” I tell him when he walks into the kitchen.

But holy shit, why is he wearing his hat fucking backward? And he’s got on a Storm shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing off his deliciously muscular biceps. Is it hot in here? I clear my throat, tamping down the urge to throw myself at him.

“The King of England wouldn’t be announcing himself; he’d have court people to do that.” He runs a hand over his arm, and I can’t help tracking his movements, my gaze dancing over his tattoos.

I scoff. “Whatever, Weston. No need to announce yourself every time you walk in the door.”

“You like it.” He bounces his eyebrows at me.

“As if.”

“You know I’m right.” That earns him an eye roll. He chuckles. “I’m gonna change, and then we can go. You ready?” He takes his hat off, sets it on the counter before running a hand through his hair, then peels his shirt off in one swift move.

Fucking hell. That should be illegal.

“Close your mouth before the flies fly in.”

I do as he says, glaring at him as I stand up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He makes his way over to me, and before I can stop him, he’s running his thumb over my bottom lip. I suck in a breath. What the hell is going on?

He inspects his thumb. “You were drooling too.”

He holds it up—it’s clearly dry—and I smack him on the chest. Bad idea, because as I pull my hand away, he yanks me into him and wraps his arms around me.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing how you react when I touch you.”

“Weston.” I shove at his chest.

“Hadley Jane, we’re about to go meet my agent. We’re supposed to be engaged, which means we should be comfortable touching each other.”

“Fine.” I relax into him. “Is this better?”

“Yes,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling my ear.

I lean my head against his shoulder. Another bad idea because now all I can smell is him—a hint of sweat and something that smells like rain, probably his deodorant or body wash. We stand like that for another minute or two until eventually, he releases me, and I move away from him.

He smirks, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. Again.

“I’m gonna get changed now.”

His voice comes out gruff, and I’m glad I’m not the only one affected by our hug.

“Put your ring on, fiancée,” he says before turning and sauntering out of the room, my eyes never straying from his ass, which looks especially great in the black shorts he’s wearing.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say to John when we’re seated in his office an hour later.

The man, who I’d guess is in his late thirties or early forties, grins at me before focusing his attention on Weston.

“I like her already, Wes.”

“You like everyone,” Weston mumbles. He puts a hand on my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do, but I can’t help myself.

“So, let’s get down to business.” John sits back in his chair, steepling his fingers and eyeing us. “Slumberly Apparel wants you both in their winter holiday marketing. Wearing matching pajamas and opening gifts in front of the Christmas tree. It sounds a little corny, but what do I know?”

Weston leans forward in his chair, glancing over at me before turning his attention back to his agent. “What kind of pajamas?”

“Here.” John riffles through the pile of papers on his desk before holding one out. “They sent this with a few pictures.”

Weston takes the sheet and peers down at it. I lean closer to him, and he shifts so I can see. The pajamas are cute. Matching flannel bottoms and tops in reds and greens. A pair of boy shorts and an oversized shirt. Nothing that gives me pause.

“I’m fine with these,” I say.

“If she’s fine with them, so am I,” Weston adds.

“Good. I’ll talk to them and see when they want to do the shoot. I know they were talking about pretty soon, within the next month. What do your schedules look like?” He tilts his head, looking first at me and then at Weston.

“We’re pretty wide open,” Weston says, and I nod in agreement.

“Perfect. Here’s what they’re offering for compensation. Plus, you get to keep the clothes.” John picks up another piece of paper and slides it across the desk. “They have an option to also include you in their Valentine’s marketing. That amount is the number at the bottom.”

My eyes just about bug out of my head when I see the figure, and I cough to hide the shocked squeak that comes out. Weston nudges me, and I shake my head.

“This is great,” Weston says, pushing the paper back across the desk.

“Elite Edge Energy is also interested, very interested, based on what they’re offering.”

“I’m not interested in Elite,” Weston says.

“It’s a lot of money. A long-term deal. It would be good for you.” John levels him a look.

Weston leans back in his seat, arms crossed. “No. I’m not endorsing a company that puts who knows what in their products. It’s not something I’d actually drink, so I’m not doing it.”

Well, okay then, sir. I don’t know why his answer surprises me. He’s always come across as a man with high morals. I silently applaud him for not selling out.

“Fair enough,” John says with a nod. “I’ll let you know if anything else comes up. I heard PowerIce Gear might be in the market for another hockey player to partner with, but I don’t know for sure.”

“I recognize the company name but don’t know much about them, so maybe.”

“Understood. If they do end up reaching out, I’ll ask them to send equipment for you to test. Does that work?” John says.

“Great. Anything else?” Weston asks.

“Nope. Unless you have anything you want to talk about?”

Weston glances at me, and I shake my head. “No, I think we’re good.”

“Perfect. I’ll be in touch.” John gets to his feet.

We shake hands, then Weston takes my hand and leads me out of the office and out onto the street.

We don’t let go of each other until we make it to his Jeep. I tell myself it’s just in case someone sees us, but I’m not sure if I believe that anymore.

Chapter sixteen

Wes

“Did you miss me?” I yell as I walk into the house after a few hours spent at the arena.

Hadley and I have fallen into a routine over the last couple of weeks. I get up early and head to the arena to work out for a few hours and skate with whoever is around. Some days I go out to lunch with a few of the other guys who are in town. When I get home, Hadley’s usually putting away whatever she was working on, and we hang out. We might watch a movie, go for a drive, play a board game, or work on a puzzle. Just depends what mood we’re in, and how much energy we have.

I thought it would be weird living with Hadley, but I’m finding that even though she leaves shit everywhere, I’m enjoying the company. Her company. It’s made this summer easier to bear. And we’ve come to an agreement that if she’s going to leave her stuff everywhere, she at least needs to keep it in one pile. Which has mostly worked.

“In here,” she calls from the kitchen.

I take my shoes off and set my bag down before heading to where she’s standing with her back to me at the stove, the scent of freshly-baked cookies hitting my nose.

“Those smell amazing.”

She whirls around at the sound of my voice, a spatula in her hand. “Thanks?”

“I’m just saying because the last time you cooked, it did not smell this good.”

She shakes the spatula at me. “That was one time, Weston Philip. One mother fucking time I burned food. One time. And you won’t let me forget it.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “It’s a smell I’ll never forget, Hadley Jane.”

“And I was going to share the chocolate cookies I made. I don’t know that you deserve them.”

“Oof. You wound me.” I place my hand over my heart, swaying back and forth.

That earns me an eye roll, and I can’t help winking at her. She shakes her head, then turns to the stove for a second before turning to face me, a cookie in her hand.

“Here.” She holds it out to me.

I take two steps closer and open my mouth. She blinks a few times before extending the cookie toward me. I take all of it at once, my tongue flicking against her fingers, before I pull back and chew it.

“Way to be a barbarian.” Hadley wipes her hand on her apron.

I probably shouldn’t have done that—licked her fingers—but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see her reaction.

“Pretty good, but I need another one to make sure.” I reach around her and grab one off the cookie sheet and plop it into my mouth.

“You’re going to ruin your appetite.”

“I’m a growing boy.” I rub my stomach. “I need all the calories I can get.”

She snorts. “You’re something, that’s for sure.”

“What are you trying to butter me up for, Hadley Jane?”

She puts her hands on her hips. “Why would you think that?”

“You made me cookies.”

“I did no such thing. I was bored. They’re for me too.”

“Sure.”

She shakes her head. “Where are you taking me on our date?”

Tonight’s the night of our date, the one that one of the guys from the Storm’s social media team is going to be at. He’s going to meet us at Mitchell’s, the steak house I’m taking Hadley to. Sutton reassured me that he’ll take a few pictures and some quick videos before dinner starts, then leave. That it will be as quick and painless as possible.

“I’m not telling you. It’s a surprise.”

“Come on, please, Weston Kevin.” She puts her hands together, pretending to beg, and bats her eyelashes at me.

I snort a laugh. “Not my middle name, Hadley Jane. And no, it’s a surprise.”

“Ugh, fine.” She stomps her foot.

“Go get ready so we’re not late.”

“How will I know what to wear if I don’t know where we’re going?”

“Wear something similar to what you wore for Harry’s engagement party.” Or wear that same dress. Fucking hell, was she hot as hell in it. “But that’s the only hint you’re getting.”

“Fine. Fine,” she huffs before heading toward her room.

I’m left standing in the kitchen with a baking sheet of fresh cookies. The absolute last thing anyone should do is leave me alone with any sort of sweets. They’re my weakness.

A quick peek over my shoulder tells me she is indeed gone, so I grab another cookie. One can never have enough cookies, especially when they’re warm from the oven the way these are. I contemplate another one and then decide against it because I really won’t be able to eat dinner.

Instead, I head into my room and change into a pair of dress pants and a button-down shirt. I skip the tie and suit jacket since it’s a hot summer night. I opt to roll up the sleeves of my shirt. Not all due to the fact I’ve caught Hadley checking out my forearms and tattoos before. Nope, it’s because I know it’s going to be warm outside.

As I’m strolling into the living room a few minutes later, my phone dings. I pull it out of my pocket to find I have a new email at the address I set up when I submitted my DNA to the ancestry match website months ago.

“It might be nothing. It might be nothing,” I mutter. My eyes widen when I see the subject: “You have a new match.”

I quickly click on the email and scan its contents, which tell me the website has found a woman by the name of Donna who might be related to me through my grandfather Peter Winslow, my dad’s biological father. I don’t get any other information about her, just the ability to send her a message via the website.

I debate what to do for a few beats before finally clicking on the link. My fingers fumble on the keys as I try to figure out what to say. I don’t want to come on too strong. I finally settle on introducing myself—well, just my first name—telling her how I’m related to Peter, and asking her how she’s related to him.

“Ready?” Hadley comes strolling into the room as I’m hitting Send on the message.

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her.

She’s beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.

Her blonde hair is curlier than usual and loose across her shoulders. She’s wearing a black dress that fits her perfectly, accentuating her curves. It falls a little past her knees, and the top has a slight V, not enough to be overly revealing, but definitely enough for me to get a tease.

“Weston?” she prompts.

“Yes.” I force myself to stop staring at her and tuck my phone into my pocket.

Fuck I just want to kiss her. Get down on my knees and beg her to give me a chance. But I don’t. I can’t. So instead, I smile at her and make a vow to make this the best date she’s ever had.

Chapter seventeen

Hadley

“Am I dressed alright?” I run a hand down the little black dress I settled on for our “date.”

I honestly wasn’t sure what to wear, and when I saw this hanging in the back of my closet, I knew it was the one. It screams sexy and confident, at least to me, and that’s exactly how I need to feel if I’m going to be in front of a camera for pictures that will end up on the Storm’s social media.

Weston blinks a few times before nodding. “Yep. It’s great. Looks great on you, Hadley Jane. Perfect. Great.”

How many times can a man say great in a span of sixty seconds?

“Great, Weston Reynolds. You look great, too.”

I can’t help myself.

He chuckles. “We should go downstairs and wait for the car. It’ll be here shortly.”

“We’re not driving ourselves?”

“Nope,” he says simply as I follow him out of the apartment and onto the elevator.

“Perfect timing,” he says as we walk across the lobby. He gestures to the black SUV that’s just pulling to a halt by the curb.

“This is a bit much,” I mutter as we head to the waiting car, where we greet the driver before climbing into the backseat.

“We should be at the restaurant in twenty minutes, sir,” the driver says as he pulls away from the curb.

“Thank you.” Weston pulls out his phone and types something on it before shoving it in his pocket and turning to me.

“Thank you again for agreeing to this,” he murmurs. “Sutton promised me it won’t be too invasive. You do like steak, right?” He swallows. “Probably should have asked that before I made reservations at a steak house.”

“I enjoy a well-cooked piece of meat.” He smirks, and I shove his shoulder. “Stop it. Get your mind out of the gutter …”

He grabs my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it before meeting my eyes.

“You’re the one who said it, Hadley Jane.” He winks at me, and I swoon a little. Damn him.

I shake my head, pulling my hand away, and he lets it go, but not before giving it a quick squeeze.

The drive is indeed short, and when we pull up to the restaurant, the driver once again opens our doors for us. My heart races as we step out onto the sidewalk. Weston puts his hand on the small of my back, and I can’t help the shiver that runs through me at the contact.

We’re greeted by a young guy, Max, from the Storm’s social media team. He snaps a few pictures of us as we walk toward the front door.

“Breathe,” Wes whispers as he leads me inside the restaurant.

The hostess greets us and takes us to a small private room, as Max trails behind us. The server arrives quickly and takes our drinks order—a glass of red wine for me and a beer for Weston.

Weston chats with Max while I read over the menu, although I don’t take in most of what I’m reading because I’m worried that I’ll say or do the wrong thing and give away that Weston and I are fake. When our server returns with our drinks, I take a big gulp of my wine, needing the liquid courage.

Max tells us to act naturally as he peers through his camera lens, ready to take a few more pictures. Weston reaches across the table for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before peering down at his menu. My heart hammers in my chest as I try to ignore the camera, focusing instead on Weston’s warm hand wrapped around mine.

“How about we toast?” Weston asks, turning to Max once he tells us he’s done. “You good with that?”

“Yeah, that’ll be a great photo. Mind if I get a video of it too? We’ll mute the sound and add music over it, so don’t worry about saying anything.”

“Fine with me,” I say, and Weston nods.

I grab my wine glass, lifting it to clink with Weston’s, and turn to face the camera. My hands shake a little, and I really hope it’s not noticeable. Max takes a few photos first, and then directs us to put our glasses down and start our toast all over again so that he can capture it on video. We do as he says. I really hope we’re convincing. Max seems to think so as he thanks us for our time, then leaves us to enjoy our meal, saying he’ll meet up with us at the end of the night.

“You okay?” Weston asks when we’re alone.

“I’m fine.” I take another sip from my wine as he watches me. “Fine. I’m nervous.”

His expression softens. “Why? Do you not want to eat here? We can go somewhere else …”

I shake my head. “It’s not the restaurant. Well, not really. It’s more having to pretend for the camera. And being on a date with you.” I grimace, and his expression falls. I put up a hand. “No, wait, that came out wrong.” He tilts his head, studying me. “I just meant aside from Henry’s party, we haven’t done anything this fancy or formal together. We hang out at your place or get takeout. Not that I’m complaining. I just …” I fiddle with my wine glass.

“Oh.” He blows out a breath. “Pretend we’re just out for tacos.”

I tap my finger against the menu. “These aren’t taco prices.”

“Fair enough. There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just you and me.”

And that’s another reason why I’m nervous. We keep spending more and more time together, and I find myself liking it. Falling more for the man across the table from me. And that’s dangerous.

“Did you decide what you want to eat?” He picks up his menu.

“Nope.” I read the menu again, and this time I’m able to focus on the words in front of me.

“Okay,” I say a few minutes later. “I’m getting the eight-ounce center-cut filet. What about you?”

“I was thinking the same thing, but the twelve-ounce. Do you want to share a few sides?”

“Sounds good.”

We debate what sides to order and eventually settle on bacon and cheddar mashed potatoes, sautéed broccoli, and fresh asparagus. I lose the argument for also getting the lobster mac and cheese. The waiter comes back, and we put in our order.

“Did I do good?” Weston asks once we’re alone again.

I crinkle my brow at him, finishing my glass of wine. “Do good?”

“I wasn’t sure where to take you on our first date.”

Is he blushing?

“This is perfect, Weston. Although you know it’s not real …”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “It needed to appear real.”

I take in the private room we’re in, hearing the faint hum of classical music streaming in along with the sounds of other patrons talking and utensils clinking in the dining room. “I think it does.”

“We should take a selfie,” he suggests, pulling out his phone. “I’ll share it on social media and tag you.”

“Good idea.”

He moves his chair closer to me and drapes his arm around me. I smile at the camera, all the while trying not to think about how good it feels to have him touching me. We’ve hugged—I know what it’s like to touch him. So why does this feel like more? I push the thought away. It’s neither here nor there. This is just fake. We’re fake. We’re friends but nothing more. We can never be anything more.

Once he’s satisfied with the pictures, he moves back to his side of the table, and we chat about random things while we wait for our food to come. I’m not sure if it’s the wine or him, but eventually, I start to relax and genuinely enjoy the evening. Pretty soon, the waiter is returning with our food.

“Holy shit,” I mutter when I finish my first bite of steak. It’s cooked to perfection and melts in my mouth. Good grief. A girl could get used to eating this way.

“Good, eh?” Weston asks as he serves himself up a couple of spoonfuls of potatoes and vegetables.

“Good is an understatement,” I tell him around another bite of steak. I try the mashed potatoes, and I swear my eyes roll into the back of my head. “You’re spoiling me, Weston.”

“I’ll take you here as often as you want.”

“Don’t say something you don’t mean,” I tell him before taking a bite of the asparagus. It’s delicious too. Not as good as the steak and potatoes, but it’ll do. “Even the veggies are good.”

Weston barks out a laugh, focusing back on his food.

Conversation is minimal as we eat our dinner.

“Would you care for dessert?” the server asks when he comes to clear our empty plates.

I lean back in my chair, patting my stomach. “While I’d love a piece of your chocolate cake, I don’t think I can eat another bite.” Which is a shame because I was excited to try it. It sounded to die for.

“We’ll take a piece to go, though,” Weston says, winking at me. “And a salted caramel brownie.” He licks his lips, and I focus on the movement.

“Of course. I’ll be back with that in a few minutes,” the waiter says before taking away our empty dinner plates.

“You didn’t have to do that. We have cookies at home.”

“What my lady wants, she gets. Besides, the cookies will still be good tomorrow.”

I narrow my eyes. “Fine, but you’re sharing that brownie.”

“Of course.”

The waiter eventually comes back with the check and our to-go boxes of desserts.

“I should text Max and tell him we’re ready. And the driver.” Weston pulls out his phone.

I fiddle with my ring.

I don’t want this night to end. I’ve had a lot of fun with Weston. It helps that the food was fantastic, but the company was great too.

I can’t think that way.

It’s only because I haven’t been on a date in a while, that’s all. It’s nice to get dressed up and go out.

It’s not at all because my feelings for Weston are growing the more time I spend with him. Nope, that’s not it at all.

I take it back. This night needs to end so that I can get some space from him. Before I do something stupid like fall for my fake fiancé.

Chapter eighteen

Wes

“Ready?” I ask Hadley when the waiter returns with my card and receipt.

“Yes.” She jumps to her feet.

I frown. What’s that about? Did she not have fun? Is she not enjoying tonight?

“You’re in a hurry.”

She doesn’t answer, simply picks up her clutch, grabs the bag containing our desserts, and heads toward the door. Guess that’s my answer. I rush to catch up with her, putting my hand on the small of her back.

Fuck, I enjoy touching her.

Max greets us at the door and snaps a few more pictures. I hope he got to eat too, and on the team’s dime. It’s the least they could do. He asks us what we had for dinner, and I tell him about the selfies I plan to share on my social media account.

“Sounds great,” he says as we make our way out to where our car is waiting for us. “I’ll work on editing this content and get it posted tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a good night,” Hadley says with a wave.

“You too.” He turns and hurries across the parking lot.

“Where to, sir?” the driver asks when Hadley and I are settled in the backseat.

I glance over at her as she’s stifling a yawn. Maybe she isn’t in a rush to go home because she’s not having fun, but rather because she’s tired. That makes me feel better.

“Home, please. Unless you want to do something else?” I address my question to Hadley.

She shakes her head, holding up the dessert. “Nope. We’ve got chocolate cake and a salted caramel brownie, so I’m good to go home.”

Home.

I like the way the word sounds coming from her. Never has it sounded so sweet. I want her to think of my condo as her home too. Maybe one day.

I lean back against the seat, relaxing as someone else navigates the road. Not going to lie, it was nice not to have to drive tonight.

“So, I heard from John today,” I tell Hadley when we’re back at my place.

“About the PJ company?”

“Yeah.” I fiddle with the keys in my hand, then finally set them down on the kitchen counter. “They want to do the photo shoot at the end of the week.” Hadley hums, and I press on. “There’s a problem, though.”

“What’s that?” She tilts her head, studying me.

“They want to photograph us unwrapping presents in front of a Christmas tree, wearing their pajamas.”

“Oh-kay? We already talked about that.”

“And kissing …”

The two words hang in the air between us as the silence stretches into uncomfortable territory. I knew this was a bad idea. I should have told John the truth, that this was all fake, because this is when it’s going to fall apart. I just know it.

“Okay.”

My mouth gapes open. “Okay?”

“It’s just a kiss, Weston Oliver. I’ve kissed plenty of guys.”

I grind my teeth, shoving the idea of Hadley kissing other guys out of my head. “Not my middle name, Hadley Jane.”

She taps a finger against her lips, and all I can do is track the movement, wondering what it’ll be like kissing her.

“Damn it. I should have told you I’d kiss you if you told me your middle name.”

I grin. “Too late.”

I’m glad she’s lightening the mood because damn, did it get hot in here. I shift on my feet, pulling at the back of my neck.

“The only problem is we’ve never kissed before. I can guarantee you someone will know it’s our first time if we wait for the photo shoot.”

She raises her brows at me. “I guess we’ll have to remedy that, won’t we?”

Am I finally going to get to kiss Hadley Jane, the woman who has starred in more of my fantasies than I care to admit, not once but twice? At least. Because I’m sure the photographer will want to shoot the pictures a couple of times. I’ll make sure of it if I have to.

“I guess we will.” I turn away from her and head over to the cabinet, grab a glass, and pour myself a drink. I need a minute to calm the fuck down because holy shit, my wish of kissing her is finally going to come true.

I feel rather than hear her come up behind me as I finish my water and set the empty glass down. I spin around to face her and suck in a breath when I realize how close she is.

We watch each other for a few seconds, neither of us moving, then she puts a tentative hand out and slides it up my chest and throat until she’s cupping my cheek. I can’t stop the full-body shiver that courses through me when she touches my skin.

“Shit, your hand is cold,” I rasp, trying to play things casual when I am anything but calm, my heart feeling as though it’s going to pound out of my chest.

Her thumb strokes my cheek, and I am mesmerized by her eyes, which appear even darker green this close.

I grip her waist gently, watching her face for signs she’s not on board with it.

Her eyes flutter closed for a second. “Like tearing off a Band-Aid.”

I start to chuckle, but am interrupted by her lips grazing over mine in the softest, lightest kiss ever. She moves away far too quickly, and before I can question if what I’m doing is a good idea, I yank her closer to me. Her hand that was on my cheek falls to my chest, and I slant my lips over hers in a searing kiss. She lets out a whimper, fisting my shirt and pulling me closer.

Mentally, I’m doing a celebration dance that she’s as affected by this kiss as I am. She grinds against me, and my cock is instantly rock hard.

I groan, and she uses that as an opening to lick into my mouth. I get lost in her. In her sweet moans and whimpers. In the feeling of her heat pressed against my cock. I want to touch her, taste her all over, rip off her clothing, and lay her bare on my bed.

But I can’t.

One more kiss, and I pull away, both of us panting.

“Wes,” she rasps, and it’s the most beautiful word I think I have ever heard.

I’m gone.

Done for.

I want to hear her say my name like that again and again for the rest of my life because I will never get tired of it.

Chapter nineteen

Hadley

I am so screwed. So very very screwed. This was one hundred percent a bad idea because now I know what it’s like to not only go out on a date with Weston Reynolds, but also to kiss him. The date I could handle, but the kiss I’m not sure I’ll ever get over. Because it felt like coming home. As cliché as it sounds. As much as I want to roll my eyes at myself. That’s how it felt.

And that scares the shit out of me.

I don’t know if I’ve ever been kissed the way he kissed me.

Like I was the air he needed to breathe.

Like I was his lifeline.

But what do I do now? What should I say? Where does this leave us?

He stares at me, his expression filled with lust. I avert my gaze because it feels as though he sees through me, sees through the way I’m trying to act unbothered by him, by the kiss, by these fucking feelings I’m fighting. I am, in fact, two seconds away from throwing myself into his arms, kissing him again, and asking him to touch me, to dull the ache between my thighs. Telling him I changed my mind about the no sex part of our agreement. But I can’t. Because this is fake.

“Hadley, look at me.” His voice is low but commanding, and I do as he asks, shifting a half step away from him.

“Weston. I—that was …”

He reaches for me, and I take another step back, even though my body screams at me to let him touch me. But I can’t. I swallow, trying to compose myself.

“That was good, err, practice. I had fun on our date, but I’m going to bed.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder before spinning on my heel. “See you around,” I call behind me as I all but sprint to my room, closing the door and locking it behind me for good measure.

“See you around,” I mutter to myself, cringing as I pace the room.

What the hell am I doing? Better yet, what the hell was that kiss? I touch my lips.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and throw myself onto the bed. I check the time and decide it’s not too late in Colorado to call Callie.

“Hey, girl, hey,” she says when she answers the phone.

“We went out on a date, and then I kissed him,” I blurt out.

“What?”

“I know,” I whine, covering my face with my hand.

“Breathe, Hads.” I do as she says, feeling a little better with each inhale and exhale. “Now tell me what happened.”

So I do. I tell her everything that’s been going on for the past few weeks, including our date tonight.

“And we kissed. It was supposed to be practice so we don’t give ourselves away at the photo shoot thing. But …”

“It didn’t feel like practice.”

“Exactly. I want to do it again. And more.” I cringe.

“So why don’t you?”

“Because he’s Holt’s best friend, and this is fake.”

“So? Maybe it could be real.”

“It would be awkward. He’s Holt’s best friend. He’d still be around. In my life. Plus, I’m afraid …”

“Ding. Ding. Ding. Hate to break it to you, but that’s the real reason. You’re afraid.”

“I was going to say I’m afraid of how I’ll feel once we end and I see him with his future wife. Because we both know that’s what always happens. This time it won’t be like seeing Henry with his fiancée or finding out any of my other exes are engaged or married to the woman they dated after me.”

“Why?”

I’m silent for a few beats, trying to find the courage to say the words out loud. Admit how I really feel.

“Because breaking up with him would break my heart.”

“Shit, Hadley,” Callie whispers.

“I know.” I blink away tears. “If I’m being honest with myself, I didn’t really see a future with any of the other guys I dated. Sure, I liked them, and it was fun being with them. But this, he, feels different. I think I could …”

“You could fall in love with him?”

I let out a watery laugh. “Bingo.” I run a hand over my face, wiping the tears away.

“Why do you think it wouldn’t work out?”

“Because relationships never work out for me.” I pull the blanket I keep folded at the end of the bed over me, even though I’m still fully clothed.

“But you just said—”

“Plus, I don’t even know if he likes me …”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know if he likes me or if he got backed into a corner and got stuck with me and now he’s too nice to tell me otherwise and the kiss and his body’s reaction was just that, a reaction, because he hasn’t had sex in however long because we’re fake engaged,” I ramble.

“I’m going to stop you right now. You’re assuming things. You need to talk to the man. Put your big girl pants on, and ask him.”

“I can’t.”

“Hadley Jane Abbott.” Callie puts on her stern voice, the one I imagine she uses with the baseball players she works with. “Maybe he’s the one you’re meant to be with …”

I roll my eyes even though she can’t see me. “Now you sound like him.”

“What?”

“I’ve heard him tell the other guys, and my brother, that they’re dating the one, and he’s been right.” I sigh. “That’s the other problem. He’s romantic, and I’m not.” I crinkle my nose. “Anniversaries and all that corny shit make me itchy.” Callie laughs. The bitch laughs at me. “What?”

“I love you. Remember that after what I’m about to say.”

“Oh-kay.”

“I think you’ve convinced yourself you don’t like romance and romantic gestures to protect yourself from being disappointed by all the assholes you’ve dated in the past. I know you, Hadley Jane. I remember when we used to sit in your backyard and plan our weddings.”

“We were ten. We didn’t know any better. Of course we were going to do that. Now that I’m a grown-up, I know all that romance shit isn’t real.”

“But maybe it is. Maybe you haven’t been with the right guy yet. Don’t write it off, Hads. Please. But for the love of carbs, please talk to the man.”

I huff out a breath, rolling her words over in my head for a few seconds.

“Fine. I will. Are you satisfied?”

“Yes.”

“How are things with you?”

Callie spends the next few minutes telling me about her job and one of the players who has been a nightmare to work with because of how grumpy and stubborn he is, and how she secretly enjoys riling him up.

“How’s the job search going?” she asks after she’s finished her story.

I groan. “I applied for a few more, one I’m super excited about, but I don’t know …”

“What don’t you know?”

I peek over at my camera case sitting on top of the dresser.

“I haven’t touched my camera since I got back to Florida.” I clear my throat, averting my gaze, feeling as though my camera is somehow judging me. “I think if I get rejected for all these jobs, it’s time to figure out a different career path.”

“Or maybe you just need to find what inspires you again. You’re talented. I wish my team needed another photographer because I’d refer you so fast. Don’t give up.”

“Thanks,” I mutter. “I feel so lost. I want to take pictures. I do. But I don’t know if I can …”

“Maybe find a park to wander around. Or a new place to explore. I think you’re in a rut with everything else going on, and you need to ride the wave. Or fill up your creative well.”

“I need to have something filled up, that’s for sure.”

“You did not just say that.” A beep sounds in the background. “Shit, I gotta go. The timer for my dinner just went off, and I need to take the pan out of the oven.”

“Okay. Thanks for talking me off the ledge.”

“Anytime.”

“Love you. Talk soon.”

“Love you.” She hangs up, and I drop my phone onto the bed next to me, thinking about her words and her advice.

I know I should talk to Weston.

Tell him how I feel.

After the photo shoot.

The last thing I want to do is make things awkward between us when we have to act as a couple in front of the cameras in a few days.

Chapter twenty

Wes

I scrub a hand down my face and check the time on my phone yet again, then glance toward Hadley’s room. We still have ten minutes before we have to leave for the photo shoot, but that doesn’t make me any less anxious.

Hadley and I still haven’t talked about our kiss a few nights ago. I’ve tried to bring it up, but every time I start to, she makes an excuse and leaves the room. She’s also been home less often. I feel as though she’s avoiding me. No, I know she is. I haven’t pushed the subject, but tonight when we get home, I’m going to flat-out ask her what’s going on. I’m tired of walking on eggshells. We’re two adults who kissed. We should be able to talk about it and move on.

Part of me is afraid she’ll tell me the kiss was only fine for her or she didn’t feel anything, but part of me just wants to know something, anything. I want her, and I think she wants me, but maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe she’s just a great actress. Although I don’t think you can act your way through the reactions she had during our kiss. But what the hell do I know?

“Ready to go?” she asks, heading into the living room in a pair of cut-off shorts and a light purple tank top that accentuates her curves, her blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun.

The engagement ring is the only jewelry she’s got on, and I love seeing her wearing my ring. It takes everything in me not to pounce on her. Kiss her again. But we haven’t talked about kissing beyond what is required for the photoshoot.

“Weston?” she prompts.

I nod, getting to my feet and shoving my phone into my pocket. I gesture for her to go ahead of me and force myself not to stare at her ass as she walks or notice the way her hips sway.

Talk about something, Wes. Don’t make this awkward.

“Remember how I told you I did the DNA thing earlier this year?” I ask as we make our way out of the apartment and down to my Jeep in the parking garage. “I got notified of a match right before our date. I emailed the woman, but wasn’t sure if I’d hear anything from her. She responded this morning.”

“That’s awesome,” she says, buckling her seat belt. “What’d she say?” She pauses. “That is, if you want to tell me. You don’t have to.”

“She told me my biological grandfather was her great uncle. Her grandfather’s brother,” I tell her as I guide the car out of the parking spot. “Donna—that’s my cousin’s name—and her family live in Missouri. She’s married with three kids. She’s lived there her whole life, and so did her parents. She said she might have a few pictures of my grandfather if I want them. Said she’d only done the DNA thing because her kids bought her the kit as a gift, and she was curious. Said she was shocked to find out her great uncle had a family. She left it up to me if I wanted to connect more.”

“Are you going to?”

I peek over at her as I wait for the light to change so I can turn out of the complex. “I think so. At least see where things go. I don’t plan to hop on a plane anytime soon and meet her.”

Hadley barks out a laugh.

“What?” I ask.

“I’d hope not. Who knows who these people really are.”

“I gave a fake name. I used my mom’s maiden name as my last name. I was … nervous about how it would work with me being who I am.” I wince. “I realize how vain that sounds.”

“Not vain at all. It makes sense you want to protect yourself. There are some pretty weird people out there.”

I nod, my mind whirling. I’ve always wished I had more family, and now I do, even if I don’t know them well. And the only way I’ll get to know her and her family is if I email her. I focus on the road and take the ramp for the highway.

“Are you ready for this?” I ask twenty minutes later as I take the exit for our destination, a warehouse in the Packing District of Orlando.

Not sketchy at all.

Nope.

But also, packing for what?

I find the names of all the districts here so odd and inconsistent. A few of them are combinations of the main roads around them, but then you’ve got the Packing District or the Milk District, though that does make sense because there’s a milk plant nearby. Who the heck decided on how to name them? As if the tourists aren’t confused enough. I’ve lived here for a few years now, and I still don’t always know which streets someone means when they mention an area’s name. Not that I get out much, especially during the season when I’m traveling.

“I think so,” Hadley says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“John said it should be a couple of hours of photos plus an hour or two for hair and makeup.”

“So the rest of the day?”

“Seems like it.”

Is this conversation weird? It feels weird to me. And I hate it. I wish we could go back to the way things were. Even if it was banter. Not this weird awkwardness between us.

We lapse into silence for the remainder of the drive, and eventually, I pull into a parking space in front of a warehouse. We’re surrounded by rows and rows of white warehouses, a few with signs outside them and some with the garage doors rolled up.

“This is interesting,” Hadley says, taking off her seat belt.

“Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair, watching a guy walk out of a bay that has a sign in front of it touting a tint shop. A couple of doors down, if you could call them that, two guys are unloading what appears to be boxes of tile or flooring based on the name on the side of the truck. At least there’s people around.

“This feels like something out of a horror movie.”

“Agreed.” I open the door and climb out.

She meets me in front of the Jeep, and I put a hand on the small of her back and guide her over to the warehouse marked Twelve A, the location John gave me. I pull the door open and gawk at what greets us. Half of the warehouse is set up like a living room, all ready for Christmas. A decorated tree sits in one corner next to what I imagine is a fake fireplace, because no way there’s a real fireplace here, directly across from a couch.

“Hi,” a young woman greets us. She consults the tablet in her hand before saying, “You must be Weston and Hadley. I’m the photographer’s assistant.”

“We are. Nice to meet you,” I tell her.

“Hadley, if you follow me, I’ll bring you to where we’ve set up hair and makeup.” She turns to me. “If you want to take a seat and hang out until we’re ready for you.” She points at the worn tan couch tucked into the corner of the front of the warehouse. “Happy to grab either of you a water or coffee or tea. Whatever you want.”

“I’m good,” Hadley says.

“Same,” I say.

Before I can go take a seat, Hadley surprises me by leaning up on her tiptoes and kissing me on the cheek. “Be right back, honey.”

She winks, and I hope like hell my mouth isn’t gaping open because we’re supposed to be engaged, engaged and in love. I should not be shocked by her giving me a little kiss. I quickly school my face.

“I’ll be waiting,” I tell her.

Forty minutes later, the assistant walks over to me. I’ve been chilling on the couch scrolling on my phone, searching for a place to take Hadley if I can work up the courage to ask her out. On a real date. Not one for social media content. Although I did have a good time on our fake date, and I got to kiss her afterward. Regardless, I want to ask her out on a date, one that’s just for the two of us.

“Ready for me?” I ask, locking my phone.

“We are. The stylist asked if you wanted him to do anything with your hair when he’s done with Hadley.” She gives me a once-over.

“Nah, it’s fine the way it is.” I run a hand through it.

“Right. If you want to come this way, we need to put some makeup on you.” I cringe. “I promise it won’t be noticeable on camera, but if we don’t, you’ll look like a ghost in the pictures.”

I rock back on my heels, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Okay.” Not my first choice, but I trust that she knows what she’s talking about and that the makeup person knows what they’re doing.

She leads me to the back of the warehouse, where a makeshift hair and makeup area has been set up. Damn, this place is larger than I thought.

I take a seat, and the makeup artist works her magic. It’s awkward as hell; I don’t know how women do it. Luckily, it’s over in a few minutes.

The assistant appears again, a pair of folded-up pajamas in her hand. “You can get changed. Your fiancée is already getting ready.” She points toward some black curtains that section off part of the warehouse.

“Thanks.”

“We’ll be waiting for you over there.” She points over her shoulder, and I see a guy with a camera and a few other people holding various bits of equipment. She walks away, leaving me to get changed.

Hadley steps out of the makeshift dressing room at that moment, and fuck me, I’m convinced she could make a paper bag look sexy. Not that the pajamas aren’t cute, they are, but she is drop-dead gorgeous. Her blonde hair has been styled into gentle curls, and she’s got makeup on. It’s subtle, but it makes her green eyes pop.

I whistle, and she blushes, running a hand down the front of her green and red plaid top that matches the shorts she’s wearing.

“I like it,” I tell her, leaning down and dropping a kiss on her cheek. She stiffens. “Relax, fiancée,” I whisper into her ear.

I take one more look at her before disappearing behind the curtain to change my clothes. Once I’m in my pajamas, I take Hadley’s hand and lead her over to where the photographer and his assistants are waiting for us.

He has me pose by myself in front of the Christmas tree for a few pictures, some of them where I’m leaning against a hockey stick that appeared out of nowhere. Why we didn’t do this while Hadley was getting her hair and makeup done is beyond me.

After he’s satisfied with what feels like a hundred photos of just me posing in different ways, he beckons Hadley over. We spend the next hour posing in front of the decorated Christmas tree and on the couch before we’re asked to change into another set of matching pajamas and do it all over again. My face starts to hurt from all the smiling.

“Now, I want you two sitting in front of the fireplace.”

The photographer points to where he wants us and waits while we take our spots. One of the assistants hands Hadley a box with the words Slumberly Apparel written on the top. The light is adjusted, and someone fixes Hadley’s hair.

“Hold the box like this.” The photographer demonstrates how he wants Hadley to hold it, so the company’s name is facing the camera. “And you.” He points at me. “Lean closer, and rest your hand on her thigh.”

I do as he says and can’t help but notice the way Hadley’s eyes widen when I touch her.

“Perfect. Now, on three, lean closer and kiss,” the photographer says before beginning to count.

I barely hear the word three before Hadley’s lips are a whisper against mine. It takes all of me not to move my hand and pull her closer the way I want to. Flashes go off, and then we’re pulling apart.

I turn to find the photographer frowning down at his camera. “That was good but not perfect …”

He has us stand up and try a few different poses, and every time Hadley and I kiss, it feels as though a fuse has been lit inside my body. The kisses are short and sweet, but every one of them makes me want more.

“One more shot,” the photographer says as his assistants place all the “opened” gifts around us. “Kiss her with passion.” He winks at me before adjusting his camera and lifting it to his face.

I glance at Hadley, silently asking if she’s comfortable with what we’re being asked to do. She steps closer to me.

I don’t think, I just act, cupping her chin with my hand, leaning down, and kissing her. I swear a full-body shiver racks through her, then she fists the front of my shirt and kisses me back. Everything around us fades, and it’s just her and me and this kiss.

“That’s a wrap,” the photographer says, clearing his throat after a few seconds. “Thank you.”

I give Hadley one more peck on the lips before tearing myself away with a quiet groan. She peers up at me, her face flushed, pupils blown, lips swollen from our kiss.

“If you want to follow me, you can go get changed,” the assistant says, and I force myself to turn away from Hadley and head toward the changing area.

“Thank you for your time today,” the assistant says, coming over to us with two bags when we’re back in our street clothes. “These are for you. I put both sets of pajamas in here as well as a few other items from one of our other lines.” She holds out the bags, and I take them. “We’ll be in touch with your agent once we have pictures for you to approve.”

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

“Bye,” Hadley says, the first word she’s uttered since our passionate kiss.

We head out the door and get into my Jeep. When we’re buckled in with the air conditioning going, I blow out a breath, unsure of how to proceed. Was she as affected by our kiss as I was?

“I’m exhausted,” she says, breaking the silence.

“Same. Want to order delivery and watch a movie?”

“Yes, please.”

I back out of the parking spot and make my way toward home.

Food first, and then I’m broaching the topic of our kisses because I need to know where they leave us. If she feels the same way as I do—that I don’t want this to be fake between us anymore.

Hell, I never wanted it to be fake, but I took what I could get. Now that I have a good idea that she feels the same way about me as I do about her, it’s time to change our relationship. Move the proverbial puck over the blue line and toward the net.

Chapter twenty-one

Hadley

“Can we address the elephant in the room?” Weston asks as we’re cleaning up the Chinese food we ordered for dinner.

Here we go. I wondered when this was going to come up.

I whirl around, hands on my hips. “What elephant?” I glance around the room. “I don’t see one.”

He raises an eyebrow, matching my stance from across the room. “Don’t play dumb, Hadley Jane.”

I’m not playing dumb. I’m playing coward.

“Perhaps you can enlighten me about this elephant, Weston Robert.”

“Not my middle name, Hadley Jane. The kiss.” His tone softens. “I want to talk about the kiss the other day. And our kisses today.”

“They were fine as far as kisses go.” I shift back on my heels. If she were here, Callie would be yelling at me to just talk to him. To be honest with him. “There’s not a whole lot to talk about.”

He takes a tentative step closer to me. I step back, needing to keep distance between us.

“Is that so? You’re telling me it didn’t make you feel anything?” He moves closer to me, and I cross my arms and back up, hitting the counter. “Not a thing?”

I shake my head. “No, Weston Maxwell. Nothing. You’re a pretty decent kisser though. A for effort.” One ticket for the denial train please.

His gaze darkens as he crowds me against the counter. “Are you sure, tornado?” he whispers in my ear, his breath tickling against my neck, and I force myself to not react to his proximity. “Me being this close to you isn’t doing anything to you? Because I swear I saw you shiver when we kissed earlier.” He runs a finger over one of my arms, and I hate my body for betraying me with goosebumps everywhere he touches.

He leans closer to me, tracing his nose along the shell of my ear, and I press my lips together to keep from whimpering.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about it,” he says so quietly that I think I’m imagining it. “And I think you enjoyed it too. I saw the way you reacted. I was there. You want me.”

“Fuck you, Weston Reynolds,” I spit out, although there’s not a lot of heat behind it.

As soon as the words come out, I realize my mistake because his eyes darken.

“We can arrange that.”

“You can’t handle me.”

This I can do. Bantering with him is safe.

“I bet I could.”

“Bullshit,” I tell him, even though my vagina is begging me to take him up on it, to pull the emergency break, and jump off the denial train.

I haven’t had sex in a while, and toys are fun and all, but it’s not the same as a real dick. Especially when said dick belongs to a man who I expect knows how to use it. Stop thinking about Weston’s dick.

He holds his hands out. “All you have to do is ask, Hadley Jane. Happy to show you my moves.” He bounces his eyebrows.

“I can take care of myself, but thanks.”

That’s the safe thing to say, right?

We watch each other for what feels like forever. Finally, he breaks eye contact and steps back, and I immediately miss the heat of his body. Yep, I’m screwed.

“Suit yourself. You know where to find me if you need anything.”

With that, he turns and walks out of the kitchen, and I’m left staring after him, my panties a wreck. Why does sparring with him have this effect on me? Better yet, why couldn’t I just admit that I did enjoy our kisses, that I would like more of them, and that I would like him to fuck me?

Sighing, I grab a glass from the drainboard, fill it up with water, and take a few gulps, hoping it will cool me off. Eventually, I force myself to leave the kitchen and make my way to my room. Even though all I want to do is go to his bedroom and knock on the door. Ask him to show me what he’s got.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

While I’m sure it would be worthwhile tonight, it would eventually lead to heartbreak. Because while we might have fun in bed, no, I know we would, it would never work out between us. Eventually, he’d realize he could do a whole lot better than me and move on to someone else, leaving me heartbroken. Or he’d try to fix me. Or change me, the way Henry did. Hell, the way so many of my exes have tried to do. And if there’s one thing I refuse to put up with, it’s a guy who thinks I need fixing.

I pace my room for a few minutes before deciding to take a shower. Maybe that will help cool me off and force me to stop thinking about Weston.

I grab a change of clothes and slowly open the door, relieved to not find him standing outside waiting for me. Not that I actually thought he would be, because he’s a man of his word, and if he said he was going to let me come to him, I have no doubt in my mind that’s what he’ll do. I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower, strip, and step under the hot water.

As I rinse my hair a few minutes later, I can’t stop thinking about kissing him earlier. About how he makes me feel. I bet it would be amazing having his hands on me. Touching me. Pleasuring me.

“I need to invest in a waterproof vibrator,” I mutter, closing my eyes.

I trail my hand over my body, tweaking my nipple before dropping between my legs, where I circle my clit with my thumb, imagining it’s his hand.

My body is already so on edge, I know I won’t last long. I slide a finger inside myself, using my other hand to pinch my nipple. I add a second finger, and it only takes a few seconds before I’m coming. I imagine his signature smirk as he watches me fall apart because of him.

The daydream changes, and now he’s on his knees in front of me, staring up at me. I shiver even though the water is warm, because to have Weston on his knees, looking half like he’s going to devour me alive and half like he’s going to worship me, is a heady feeling.

One that’s not real.

I blink open my eyes, turn the temperature down, and rinse off under cold water. My body is still wound tight even after an orgasm.

I shut off the water and grab my towel as I step out of the shower. Guess I have a date with my vibrator later tonight.

Who knew this would be the issue with living with Weston? The more time I spend as his fake fiancée, the more I question my sanity—and my resolve.

Maybe I should ask him to fuck me.

At least I wouldn’t be feeling this way.

Maybe we could get it out of our systems and move on.

Chapter twenty-two

Wes

I walk into the kitchen a few hours later, replaying the conversation Hadley and I had earlier. For probably the millionth time.

I know I did the right thing walking away from her, but I also know that, even though she claimed she wasn’t affected by our kiss, she was. I saw the way she reacted.

Why she won’t let me make her feel good, let me show her how good we could be together, is beyond me. But I’ll be patient. I’ll give her as much time as she needs, but Operation Woo Hadley is officially a go. I’ll show her I’m different from the assholes she’s dated.

That I’m better. That we are meant to be. Because if there’s one thing I’ve figured out while spending time with her over the last few weeks, it’s that she’s mine, and I’m hers. We’re endgame. I’ve been patient this long. I can be patient a little while longer.

Maybe I should take another cold shower or go for a run. Something to burn this energy off. As I’m contemplating my life choices while drinking a glass of water, I hear a sound, a buzzing sound to be exact.

What is that? It’s not the alarm system. Is it the TV? Maybe it’s the fridge. Is it coming from outside? Or maybe Hadley’s phone is on vibrate?

I set my empty cup down and move around the kitchen, eventually determining that the sound isn’t coming from in here.

I go into the living room, and it gets louder. My eyes widen as I stride down the hallway, following the noise to where it’s coming from—Hadley’s room.

What the—oh?

Shit.

Is that?

I stare at her door like I suddenly have X-ray vision and can see what’s going on in there. I imagine she’s lying in bed naked, her toy between her legs, making herself feel good.

My cock is instantly hard.

I should walk away. Go back to my bedroom. Give her privacy.

But I don’t, not when I swear I hear her moan my name.

“Hadley,” I rasp out, tapping on the door.

The buzzing stops.

“What, Weston?” she says, her voice breathy.

“Can I come in?”

The warning lights start going off in my head; this is a bad idea, but I ignore them. I know I’m thinking with my cock right now, but I can’t help it. If she says no, I’ll walk away, go to my room, and forget this happened.

“Yes.”

My heart skips a beat at that one word. Before I can analyze what this means for our relationship, I open the door and walk in. The lamp on the nightstand is on, bathing the room in soft light.

The sight of Hadley lying on the bed, the sheet barely covering her, her face flushed, and her chest heaving, takes my breath away. Her left hand clutches the sheet to her chest, and her other hand is hidden under the covers, probably holding the vibrator.

“Did you need something, Weston Daniel?” she asks, her gaze roaming over my body, and I know the minute she notices my hard cock pushing against my shorts because her face flushes even more.

I clear my throat. “I was in the kitchen getting a drink of water when I heard a vibrating sound. I thought it was an appliance or the TV at first. But nope. Turns out it was coming from your room, Hadley Jane. Do you know anything about that?”

She peers up at me for a beat before letting out a bark of laughter.

She shifts, causing the sheet to drop lower so I can see the thin straps of her shirt. “I’ve been on edge tonight. Needed to dull the ache since a shower earlier didn’t help. Figured you’d be asleep already.”

“Do you want help?”

“I got it,” she whispers after a beat. “But do you want to watch? You know, in case I require assistance.”

“I—” I swallow, my throat feeling parched.

Is she really asking me to watch her masturbate?

Am I into that?

I don’t know. I’ve never watched anyone pleasure themselves or had anyone watch me.

“I’ve never done it either,” she whispers, as if sensing why I’m hesitating.

“Y-yes,” I finally manage to say.

She tips her chin to the chair that’s in the corner across from the bed, currently holding a pile of laundry. I walk over to it, scoop up the clothes, and deposit them on the ground. Hope they were dirty. If not, I will happily wash them for her. With the chair cleared, I take a seat.

She pushes the sheet down to reveal her half-naked body. From my spot, I’ve got the perfect view of her pretty pink pussy. I have to pinch my lips together to keep myself from whimpering. I want to touch her. Be the one to make her feel good. Feel her pussy clench around my fingers while I bring her to orgasm. But that’s not what’s happening right now. This is her show. I’m here to watch. Until she tells me otherwise. Gripping the armrest, I take a few deep breaths.

She moves her left hand, and I notice the small green vibrator she’s holding. With a push of the button, she turns it back on and guides it between her legs, a huff leaving her mouth when it makes contact with her clit. She grinds against it, her other hand going to her breast that’s covered by the thinnest shirt. It might as well be see-through because I can see her nipples poking through.

“Weston,” she whispers. “I’m so close. Touch yourself. I want to watch you.”

“You want to watch me stroke my cock while you pleasure yourself?” I ask, my hand already going to my dick pressing against my shorts.

“Yes.”

I might overthink this moment later tonight or tomorrow, but right now, I’m not thinking, just doing what she asks. Because I’d do anything for her. We are most certainly not analyzing that now.

I lift off the chair enough to push my shorts and boxers down my legs, then fist my cock and stroke myself a few times.

Her eyes flutter shut.

“Eyes on me,” I rasp, staring at her as I stroke myself harder.

She does as she’s told, moving her hips faster against her vibrator. I’m not going to last long. I was already amped up when I came in here.

“You’re so big. I wonder if I could fit you in my mouth.”

My girl’s a dirty talker? That makes me even harder.

“Do you want to find out?”

“Yes.”

“Next time. Right now, I’m going to watch you come on your toy while you imagine it’s my cock.”

“Wes,” she whimpers, and I about come at the sound of my name. “I’m so close.”

“Me too.” My balls tighten, and the familiar tingle at the base of my spine starts. I need her to come now, because I can’t hold off for much longer. “Come for me, tornado. Let me see you.”

“Fuck, Wes.” Her hips buck faster against her vibrator. “Yessss,” she yells, coming undone.

I can’t stop watching her as she falls apart. I try to stave off my own orgasm so I can enjoy the view of her coming, but I can’t.

“Aghh. Fuck, yes, Hadley,” I yell, shooting cum all over my stomach.

Stars dance at the edge of my vision. I let go of my spent cock and slump back, my eyes closed.

The vibrating stops, and I open my eyes to find her sitting up in bed, staring at me.

“That was hot, Wes. So very fucking hot.”

My heart skips a beat at her calling me Wes instead of Weston. Are we finally making progress? I mean, I assume we are, since we just watched each other come.

“It was,” I mumble, reaching over to grab my shorts, which I use to wipe my chest, stomach, and hand as best as I can. I pull my briefs back on, stand up, and walk over to her.

“Thank you,” I murmur, leaning over and brushing my lips against hers.

I force myself to stand and turn toward the doorway even though all I want to do is climb into bed next to her. Hold her close to me as we fall asleep together. But we’re not there yet.

“Sleep well,” I say over my shoulder as I step into the hallway and pull the door closed behind me.

Chapter twenty-three

Hadley

I sink back against the pillows as he shuts the door. That was … hot. And totally unexpected. I thought I was going to shit the bed when he knocked. I was a little embarrassed that he heard me. I thought I’d waited long enough and he’d be asleep already.

But, fuck, that was very enjoyable.

The words tumbled out when he showed up. I didn’t have time to think about them. Which is probably a good thing because I don’t think I would have asked him if I’d thought it through beforehand.

I want him, and he clearly wants me. I mean, it’s been evident since our kiss the other day and after our conversation earlier.

I’m tired of pretending not to want him. I think I’m finally ready to get off the denial train and admit that I like him.

I wish I’d asked him to stay. Invited him into my bed. Even though I’ve had two orgasms tonight, the most in a while, I’m still keyed up. All I can think about when I close my eyes is him stroking himself. I bet his cock would feel wonderful filling me up. No, I know it would. I blink open my eyes, glancing at the closed door.

Do I?

No, I can’t. He would have stayed if he wanted more tonight. I heave out a breath. It’s for the best that he didn’t. We need to talk about what we’re doing. If we’re changing the rules of our fake engagement, or if this was a one-time thing.

I hope he doesn’t regret it in the morning. I know I won’t.

But that’s a tomorrow discussion.

I roll onto my side, hoping I can fall asleep quickly.

I hope things aren’t weird between us in the morning.

The light spilling into my window is what wakes me up, and I stretch, rolling my shoulders and neck, trying and failing not to think about last night as my gaze snags on the chair he sat on and the laundry on the floor. The clean laundry that I probably should put away. I hate folding clothes, so I usually hang up what I absolutely need to and leave the rest in a pile.

I climb out of bed and pad to the door to listen for signs he’s awake and home, but it’s quiet, so I creep out into the hallway and make a mad dash to the bathroom. I don’t know why I’m nervous to see him. Probably because I’m afraid he’s going to tell me last night was a mistake. That it was a one-and-done thing. That he’s changed his mind, and he no longer wants me.

Once I’m done in the bathroom, I head back to my room to change into a pair of shorts and a tank top. I throw my hair into a messy bun before heading into the kitchen, which thankfully, is empty. I start the coffee pot and fill up a glass of water at the sink, sipping it as I wait for the coffee to brew.

“Morning, tornado.”

I about jump out of my skin, whirling around to find him standing in the doorway, a pair of gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. And of course, he’s wearing his glasses.

“Way to give a girl a heart attack.” I try to infuse an annoyed tone into my words, but it’s useless.

He chuckles, a deep raspy sound that goes straight to my core, as he steps into the kitchen.

“Sleep well?” he asks as he reaches around me and grabs his own glass from the cabinet, his arm brushing against mine, and that’s all it takes for me to want his hands on me. For him to touch me. For a repeat of last night, except with him participating instead of watching.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat and force my attention to the coffee maker, which has finished brewing.

I grab a couple of mugs and pour us each a cup. My phone dings as I’m taking my first sip, and I grab it. I click on the notification and read the email before sending a quick response.

“Oh, shit,” I mutter.

Should I have waited?

Will I seem too eager?

Oh well.

“What is it?” he asks, coming to stand next to me at the counter, bumping his hip gently into mine.

“I have a job interview on Friday.” I’m surprised how calm I sound, because internally, I’m jumping up and down.

“That’s awesome.”

I set my phone down before turning to him. “I’m shocked, honestly. I thought it was a long shot I’d even get an interview. The job sounds like a dream—traveling with a tour company all over the world, taking pictures of their guests. It’s a one-year contract, though. So not permanent, but at this point, I’ll take what I can get.”

I swear I see something flash across his face, disappointment maybe, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared. That’s weird.

“Well, I know you’ll do amazing, and they’d be fools not to hire you.”

I hide my grin by taking a sip of my coffee.

“About—” I start to say a few minutes later, as he says, “I—”

“You first.” I gesture for him to speak.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“What’s up?”

“Do you mind hanging out with Madison for a few hours this afternoon? Hunt and I are supposed to work out, but he’s afraid of leaving her alone. Apparently, she was having Braxton contractions, or whatever they’re called.” He waves a hand around. “The doctor said they were normal and nothing to worry about, but of course, Hunter’s still worried.” He frowns. “Not that I blame him. Coach is out of town, and so is her aunt.”

“Of course. I’ve been meaning to call her and see if she’s up for doing anything, so this works perfectly.”

“Thanks. Hopefully, that’ll convince Hunt it’s okay to leave her for a few hours.” He shakes his head. “I’m gonna go text him.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder, and I nod. He takes his coffee and leaves the kitchen.

Guess we’re not going to talk about last night. Does that mean he regrets it? That it was a one-time thing? I tip my head back, staring at the ceiling, and vow to bring it up tonight because I need to know where we stand, what he thinks about what happened—all of it—even if he doesn’t want to do it again.

“Hi, Madison,” I greet her when she answers her front door later that day.

“Hey, Hadley. Sorry to put you out like this. I told Hunter I’d be fine for a few hours on my own, but …” She rubs a hand over her very pregnant belly. “You know how protective they are.”

I start to tell her that no, I don’t, but I catch myself and, instead, silently follow her inside.

“How have you been?” she asks over her shoulder as we make our way very slowly toward the living room. “Congrats on the engagement, by the way. I’m sorry I haven’t called or texted.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve been a bit busy.”

She carefully lowers herself down onto the couch.

“You could say that.” She pats the cushion next to her. “Sit, and tell me what’s new with you. I’m so happy for you and Wes. I’ve been worried about how he was going to adjust to everything, and now I don’t have to because he’s got you.” She must notice the confusion on my face because she keeps talking. “We’re going to be busy with a baby soon. Holt has Hazel and Becca. I know Eli and Sebastian have joined the friend group, but if I had to guess, it’s probably not the same. Wes, Holt, and Hunt have been playing together and have been best friends for years. Now Wes’s two best friends are married, or practically married, with kids. I’m sure that’s an adjustment for him.”

I let out a nervous giggle.

For fuck’s sake, Madison. Way to drop a bombshell on me. Now I feel even worse about this whole fake engagement thing I roped him into.

“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think he proposed because he was feeling left out. I’m so glad he’s found his one.” She grins at me. “I bet Holt was excited.”

“Once he got over the shock.”

Madison laughs.

“So how have you been? Is the nursery all ready?” I ask, needing the subject to change so I don’t blurt out to her that it’s all a lie and we’re really not engaged.

“Tired. Ready for this baby to be evicted.” She rubs a hand over her stomach. “The nursery has been done for weeks. Hunter and Dad painted it the minute the season ended. And they say the mother nests. You should have seen Hunter.”

“He’s going to be a great dad. The same way I know you’ll be an awesome mom.”

Madison pats my arm. “Thank you. I’m kinda nervous, but Jenna’s been so helpful answering all my questions. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

I’m glad that she has Jenna, a mom of two, to help her out and answer her questions. The conversation shifts to other things, and we spend the next few hours chatting.

Eventually, the front door bangs open.

“I’m home, sweets,” Hunter says from the doorway. “I brought someone with me.”

“We’re in here,” Madison yells.

Hunter appears a few seconds later, and much to my chagrin, Wes is with him.

“Look who tagged along,” Hunter says, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at Wes before he walks over to his wife, leans down, and kisses her. “Thank you for hanging out with Mads today,” he says to me.

“Of course. We were catching up.”

Hunter glances down at Madison, and they have a silent conversation before he addresses me and Wes. “Want to stay for dinner? I’m going to throw a chicken, pasta, and vegetable dish—casserole—thing in the oven that I pulled out of the freezer this morning.”

“What do you think, honey?” Wes asks. “Want to stay and hang out with our friends a little while longer?”

I turn to Hunter. “We’ll stay. Thank you.”

“Right,” Hunt says. “What can I get everyone to drink?”

We spend the next couple of hours eating, talking, and just having a good time. Wes stays glued to my side, his hand on my thigh all through dinner, and I swear he was trying to drive me crazy the way he’d occasionally trace a line up and down my leg.

I should have pushed his hand away. No one could see it, and it wasn’t like we were doing it to keep up appearances, but I enjoyed it too much.

Chapter twenty-four

Wes

Was I pushing things with how affectionate I was being toward Hadley at dinner tonight? Maybe. Okay, fine, I was. I’d say it was to keep up the ruse that we’re engaged and in love, but in all honesty, it was because I couldn’t stop touching her. I kept waiting for her to tell me to stop or push my hand off her thigh during dinner, but she didn’t. Maybe we’re finally getting somewhere. Maybe she’s finally going to admit to me, and herself, that she likes me. That we have good chemistry. Maybe I’ll finally get my chance to show her how good we can be together.

A guy can dream, right?

My mind drifts to the job interview she mentioned. The job that will take her around the world for a year. Or more. A job she seems enthusiastic about. One that could lead to complications with our relationship, if we do get that far. But if that’s what she wants to do, I’d support her however I could. Would it be tough? It sure as hell would be, but it’s not as though my schedule isn’t busy for a good part of the year anyway. We’d figure it out. I have enough money that I could fly out to see her on breaks or fly her back here.

We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, though.

I shut off the water, grab my towel, and start to dry off before stepping out of the shower. I pull on a pair of boxers and gray sweatpants once I’m done drying off, skipping a shirt.

Out of habit, I check my phone, and I find an email from my cousin. With shaking hands, I click on it.

Hi, Weston.

It was great to hear from you again. Things are going well—the kids are busy with camp, and Rob, my husband, is busy this time of year with his business. I help him during the summer since I’m not teaching (did I mention I’m an elementary school teacher?)

To answer your question, I didn’t know Uncle Peter very well. He died when I was in high school. He didn’t marry or have any children, well, except for your dad. I’m attaching a few photos I have of my grandparents, Uncle Peter, and a woman I’ve never been able to identify. Maybe she was your grandmother?

You mentioned you live in Florida. It must be hot this time of year. Rob and I have been talking about taking the kids on a trip to Disney, but it hasn’t happened yet. What is it you do for a living? Would love to hear more about you. I hope that’s an okay thing to ask. I’m just curious.

Maybe we can arrange a time to video chat?

All the best.

Donna.

I reread the email multiple times before typing out a response, excited that she responded and appears to be interested in getting to know me.

Hi, Donna,

Great to hear from you again. Thanks for the info about my grandfather. At this point, anything you can tell me is helpful since I know nothing about him.

Florida is hot this time of year, but luckily, AC is standard in all homes and businesses so at least we’re comfortable inside. As for what I do for a living, I work for a sports team here. Keeps me busy.

You asked for more about me. I’m not married, although I’m dating an amazing woman who I hope to one day marry. No kids. No siblings either. I grew up in Anchorage but moved to Florida for this job. That was an adjustment. I travel a lot for work, so for some of the year, I’m extremely busy.

I would love to arrange a time to video chat. Let me know what days and times you’re available, and I’ll see what I can make work.

Weston.

The more I email back and forth with Donna, the more real it feels that I actually have family. Distant family, but it means I’m not alone anymore.

My mind drifts to years down the line when maybe Donna and her family come to Florida, and I get to meet them. Maybe I could travel to Missouri.

“Weston Andrew, do you want dessert?” Hadley’s voice is muffled from the other side of my door.

Yes.

I toss my phone down onto the bed, hop to my feet, and pull open the door.

My breath catches in my throat. She’s wearing a faded Storm shirt and a pair of very short shorts.

“What are you offering?” My gaze trails down her body.

“Brownies are in the oven, and there’s chocolate ice cream to go with them. Unless you’re more of a vanilla guy.”

“Nah, not a vanilla guy.” I bounce my eyebrows. “Are you sure you know how to make brownies?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I think I know how to read the instructions on the box.”

“Good, because I don’t like burnt brownies. I prefer them moist.” I take a step forward.

She licks her lips, and my cock starts to harden. “Me too.”

We stare at each other, so close yet so far away. It feels as though we’re standing on a precipice.

“Hadley,” I say. I want to get everything out in the open, but the oven timer starts beeping, interrupting my plan.

“Shit,” she mutters. “Be right back.” She winks at me before turning and heading toward the kitchen.

I heave out a breath. Get your shit together, Weston. I stalk after her and pause in the doorway to admire the view—Hadley bent over, her ass barely contained by her shorts, peering through the oven door. I scrub a hand over my face. I could get used to that sight.

“Watch it, tornado. You might burn yourself.” I come up behind her and grip her hips.

She wiggles her ass back, making contact with my half-hard dick, and I swear she lets out a low moan before she collects herself and glares at me over her shoulder. “I got it.”

“Oh, really?” I take a step back so she can straighten up.

She spins around so we’re chest to chest. I want so desperately to kiss her again. Have since I left her room last night.

She loops her arms around my neck, her tits brushing against my chest, and even though she’s wearing a shirt, I can feel her hard nipples.

“Careful, tornado.” I lean closer to her, whispering in her ear, “Maybe I wasn’t talking about the oven when I said you might burn yourself.”

She shivers, her eyes flaring before her gaze dips down to my mouth and then back up. She licks her bottom lip.

“Maybe I want to be burned,” she husks out, then she leans up on her tiptoes and kisses me.

It only takes me a few seconds to catch on to what’s going on, and when I do, I pull her closer, banding my arms around her waist. Her fingers spear into my hair. I groan, and she licks into my mouth. I meet her stroke for stroke, letting her take charge for a few seconds. Our kiss turns frantic, and she grinds against me.

The oven timer starts blaring, and she pulls away with a whispered, “Fuck.”

I let her go because I’d rather not have burnt brownies or have the smoke alarm going off. I take a step back to give her room to take the pan out of the oven.

“They have to cool,” she says, turning to face me.

“Hmmm,” I hum.

“Take me to your bedroom, Weston.”

“You sure about this, Hadley Jane? This is crossing a line we agreed not to cross.” But one I really, really want to cross with you.

“I know.” She holds out her hand. “But I can’t keep up this charade anymore. I want you, and after last night, I know you want me too.” Her focus drops to my hard dick that I know she can see pushing against my sweats. “But it’s just sex. That’s it. I can’t offer you anything else.”

I swallow. No. I want to date you.

“Sex with you sounds good.”

In one swift movement, I lift her up and turn toward my room.

“I can walk,” she protests, swatting at my chest.

I chuckle, striding into my bedroom. “Maybe I enjoy taking care of you.” I set her on her feet. “Now strip.”

Ever so slowly, she lifts the edge of her shirt up and over her head, and I get my first glimpse of her tits. Glorious tits that I can’t wait to lavish with attention. As I take her in, she pushes her shorts down her legs and steps out of them.

“No underwear?” I raise an eyebrow. “Do you always skip underwear?”

She smirks, then her gaze drops to the engagement ring she’s still wearing.

“Nope, keep the ring on,” I demand, my dick getting even harder at the thought of fucking her while she’s wearing it. I know our engagement is fake. But that doesn’t mean I can’t pretend it’s not. That she really is my fiancée.

Just for tonight.

Just for right now.

Chapter twenty-five

Hadley

“Nope, keep the ring on.”

He takes a step closer to me like a predator on the hunt, and I can’t help the shiver that racks through me. I move backward until my ass hits the dresser. He prowls closer and cages me in, dropping his hands on either side of the dresser so I’m trapped. Or at least it gives the illusion that I’m trapped. If I asked him to move, he would. For as much as he’s acting dominating right now, I know that he’s really a sweetheart inside and would never hurt a hair on my head.

“But we’re not engaged. It’s fake.” My voice comes out in a whisper.

He leans closer, rubbing his nose along my jawline, his hard cock digging into me, and I fight the urge to grind against him. “What if it wasn’t?”

I peer up into his piercing gray eyes.

“Wes.” My voice is breathy. We just agreed to this thing between us being sex only, and now he’s saying that. “Did you hit your head on the ice? Are you concussed?” Where is this coming from? “Because you’re saying some ridiculous things, and I’m worried.”

He drops his hands, stepping back. “Not concussed. Just …” He runs a hand over his face. “Never mind. But keep it on. I want to fuck my fake fiancée wearing my ring on her finger and nothing else.” His eyes flare, and my body breaks out in goosebumps. “Wait. Will I need a safe word?”

“What is it with you and safe words, Weston?”

“I’ve got the perfect one, and I’ve been saving it.”

“Let’s hear it.” I brace myself, because who the hell knows what he’s going to say, but I’m also kind of curious as to what he’s come up with.

“Meatloaf.”

“Meatloaf?”

“Because I’d do anything for love, but I won’t do that,” he sings, and I giggle.

“Wes,” I hiss playfully, smacking him on the chest. “Could you be any more ridiculous?”

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “But you love it when I’m ridiculous.”

I roll my lips, hiding my smile. “That’s up for debate. That one was pretty good, actually. How did you come up with it?”

“Read it on the internet.”

I snort. “Do I want to know where?”

“A meme page.”

“Right. Sure.” My words are dripping with sarcasm. “To answer your question, no safe word needed. Unless you want there to be a reason to need one.”

His eyes darken. “Maybe another time.”

I nod, running a hand down his chest until I get to his hard cock pushing against his shorts. I trail my finger over his hardness, and he inhales sharply, grabbing my wrist to stop my movements.

“Not yet. On the bed,” he commands.

I do as he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and squeezing my thighs together. This is going to be so good. He is going to be so good. I just know it. Things between us are so easy.

He opens the top drawer of his dresser and pulls out a tie before stalking over and kissing me.

“You good with this?” He holds up the tie.

I nod vigorously. Yes. So much, yes. See, I knew it.

“Words, Hadley Jane. I need them.”

“Yes, fucking, please.” I clasp my wrists together and hold them out to him.

His pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare. He reaches down and squeezes himself through his shorts, and I track his movements.

“Lie down. Put your hands over your head.” He tips his chin toward the pillows at the top of the bed, and I comply. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much or if it hurts?” He meets my eyes.

“Yes, but I trust you.”

He inhales sharply before leaning over me, secures my hands, then checks his knots. Satisfied, he pulls back, staring down at me.

“Look at you all spread out for me.” He shoves his pants down and strokes himself as he watches me.

I tug on the bonds on my wrists. They’re snug, but I can feel the play, which tells me he left them loose enough that I could get out of them if I wanted to. I fidget, widening my legs.

“Keep your hands above your head, or we stop.”

“Now what?” I taunt. “Going to stare all night, or are you going to touch me?”

“I should have known you weren’t going to behave.” He smirks, tapping his chin, and takes a half step backward. “Where do you keep your vibrator?”

My core clenches.

“Nightstand,” I husk out.

He backs out of the room, and I wait with bated breath for him to get the toy.

He returns and comes over to the bed, my vibrator in his hand. He turns it on and runs it up the insides of my thighs.

“Keep those legs spread for me. Let me see you.”

“Yes, sir.”

He brings the vibrator to right above my clit.

I whine, shifting to try to get him to put it where I need it—on my throbbing clit.

He pulls the vibrator away. “Stop moving, or I’ll tie your legs down too. Or better yet, we’ll stop right now.”

“Then I’d go to my room and take care of myself,” I snap even as I stop moving. Although the idea of being completely tied down and at his mercy makes me even hotter.

He brings the vibrator back between my legs, this time to where I need it. I moan as he holds it there, my orgasm building. As I’m about to come, he pulls it away.

“Weston,” I hiss, glaring at him.

He has the audacity to wink as he puts the vibrator down and climbs onto the bed, stopping to untie my wrists and kiss each of them before lying on his back.

“I’ve changed my mind. I want you to sit on my face. I want to taste you when you come.” He sticks his tongue out, wiggling it around.

I scramble to do as he says, moving up his body until I’m hovering over his face.

“Down. Now,” he commands, tugging on my thighs until I have no choice but to smother him with my pussy.

Based on the sounds he makes as he slides his tongue through me, I think he’s enjoying this as much as I am.

I toss my head back, riding his face, forcing myself to stay in the here and now and not think about how he’s probably going to ruin me for all future men. I haven’t even come yet, and I don’t know if anyone will ever compete with Wes. But that’s for future me to figure out. Present me is going to enjoy all the orgasms he is willing to give me.

I brace my hands on the wall to keep myself upright as he laps and sucks at me. The familiar feeling in the base of my stomach starts.

“I’m so close,” I husk out.

“Mmm. Yes, you are,” he says before diving back in.

I close my eyes as my orgasm crashes into me.

“Weston. So good,” I yell out before slumping forward, leaning against the wall and hoping I’m not crushing him. Eventually, he guides me to lie down next to him, my head resting on his chest.

“That was really hot. I think you sitting on my face needs to be a regular occurrence.”

I giggle. “You won’t see me protesting.”

I run a hand over his chest, before my hand drifts lower and eventually collides with his hard dick. I hum, wrapping my hand around it, and stroke up and down his shaft a few times before running a finger along the sensitive head.

“Fuuuccckkkk.” He bucks against my hand. “Please, I need you.” He’s breathless.

“What do you need?”

“Whatever you’ll give me.”

“Hmmm …” I stroke him a few more times before pulling my hand away.

“Hadley. Fuck. I’m so close, and you’re just going to stop.” He lets out a frustrated huff. Now you know how I felt.

I roll onto my side and then get to my knees. “It’s my turn to play.” I crawl between his legs and lower my mouth down onto his cock, taking as much of him as I can.

“Just like that.” He pushes my hair out of my face so he has a better view.

Without breaking eye contact, I pull off his dick and lick up and down his shaft, swirling my tongue along the sensitive head, which makes him shiver and jerk. I grip his balls, giving them a gentle tug, watching to see how he responds. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and I swear his dick gets harder.

“If you keep doing that, I’ll be coming all over my stomach,” he warns, so I let go of him. “You’re a tease.”

I shrug my shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant, but all the while, I’m getting more turned on. I squeeze my thighs together.

“Why don’t you bring your pussy back up here, and I’ll take care of you while you play.”

Don’t have to ask me twice, especially not after his performance earlier. I get situated so my pussy is in his face, and his dick is in my mouth. I groan around him when he laps at me. He moves, and then he’s holding the vibrator to my clit as he licks me.

Fucking hell.

I pull off his dick, a series of low moans escaping me as I feel another orgasm start to build.

I am not going to last long if he keeps that up.

He pulls away, and I whine at the loss of contact. “Keep my dick in your mouth while you come, Hadley. If you take it out, we’re stopping.”

My needy pussy tells me to do as he says, so I take him deep into my throat as he goes back to eating me as if I’m his last meal. Holy hell. A few seconds later, I’m coming again, this orgasm much more powerful than the last one.

Eventually, I roll off him and lie flat on my back, closing my eyes.

I hear and feel the bed shift as he gets up.

“Are you going to fuck me now, Weston?” I ask, peering over at him standing at the side of the bed with his cock in his hand.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” I widen my legs. “Please. I need to feel you inside me. Here.” I circle a finger around my wet opening.

He grabs a condom from his nightstand, fumbling a little until he’s able to open the package and roll it on.

“This is going to be quick. I’m so close.” He crawls onto the bed so he’s hovering over me.

“Quick and dirty. I want it all. Give me everything you’ve got.” I wrap my legs around his waist and draw him closer until his dick is rubbing against my pussy.

He lines himself up and slides into me gradually, inch by inch. My eyes flutter closed at the way he feels inside me, filling me up.

“Move.” I tap his bicep. “I need more.”

“Anything for you,” he tells me. He captures my lips with his and pistons his hips.

“Yes,” I hiss, breaking the kiss, gripping his biceps as he slams into me over and over.

“I need you to come again,” he says, reaching down and circling a finger around my clit as he pounds into me.

“Right there.” I throw my head back, taking everything he’s giving me. “Harder.”

I pinch my nipple, and he growls. He sucks my other nipple into his mouth, biting it and then soothing it with his tongue.

I yell out my release, an incoherent babble of words.

He pulls his head away from my chest, and I whimper. He leans down and kisses me as he pistons his hips a few more times.

“Fuuucckkk,” he groans, his body tensing as he slams into me one more time before he’s coming on a roar.

He exhales, collapsing on top of me, and I wrap my arms around him, loving the feel of his body on mine.

We lie like that for a few minutes before he shifts, pulling out of me and going into the bathroom to take care of the condom. He brings me a wet washcloth and helps clean me up. I let him, then I go and use the toilet—because no thank you to a UTI.

“Hurry back quickly,” he calls after me, and I can’t help but giggle.

I do what he asks, and soon, I’m climbing back into bed with him.

“Will you go out with me?” he asks, breaking the silence, his hand stroking down my back as I lie with my head on his chest a little while later.

I move so I can look at him, contemplating his question. “I—”

“I know you said just sex, but let me show you how good we could be together, and not just in the bedroom.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. I should tell him no. That we need to keep things to just the bedroom. But if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t know if that’s what I really want.

“One date. And nothing fancy or over the top,” I tell him, because that feels like a good compromise. I open my eyes to find him studying me.

“Counteroffer. One date with the potential for more.”

I contemplate his suggestion for a few beats.

“Fine. We’ll play it by ear, but nothing is guaranteed.”

“Deal. Now lie down and cuddle me.”

I snuggle against him. That’s the last thing I remember before I drift off to sleep.

Chapter twenty-six

Hadley

“So,” Wes says from where he’s leaning against the counter, sipping coffee a few days later. “We’re still on for today, right? For our date?”

“I’m a woman of my word, and I said I’d go out with you, so I will. I have my interview at eleven thirty, but it shouldn’t last more than an hour.”

“Just making sure you weren’t changing your mind. We can go whenever you’re done.”

“Yes, Weston Wilson, I want to go out with you.” And I do. I really do. The more time I spend with him, the more I enjoy his company.

He chuckles. “Not my middle name. How do you keep coming up with different names to try?” He walks over to the fridge and opens it, pulling out the carton of eggs. “Are you keeping track? Tell me all the things.”

“I have a little notebook where I write down all the names I’ve tried. I also have a baby book of names in my room that I consult.”

His eyes get wide, as if he’s trying to figure out if I’m being serious or not, and I force myself to keep a straight face. After a few seconds, he shrugs and starts making breakfast.

“I’m kidding. I don’t have a notebook. I just have a good memory. If you’d tell me what your middle name is, we wouldn’t have to go through this whole song and dance, Weston Jack.”

“Maybe I enjoy this whole song and dance, Hadley Jane.”

I shake my head at him, even though he can’t see me, all the while smiling because I think I enjoy this whole song-and-dance too. Actually, I know I enjoy it. It started off as me trying to get under his skin, but now it’s turned into what feels like a little inside joke between us.

Our thing.

And I find myself enjoying having that with someone.

I clear my throat, pushing those thoughts out of my head. “I should probably go get ready.” I finish the rest of my coffee and set my mug down.

He turns to me, the spatula in his hand. “Want some of these eggs, or I can make you something else?”

I put a hand to my stomach that’s starting to hurt. “Maybe a piece of toast. I’m too nervous to eat anything else.”

He sets the spatula down and grabs the loaf of bread from the counter. “You go start getting ready, and I’ll bring it to you.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, backing out of the kitchen and hurrying into my room.

“Hadley, tell me about yourself,” the guy I’m interviewing with says.

I take a deep breath and launch into my spiel, highlighting the photography projects and gigs I’ve taken on over the years. I probably ramble on for longer than necessary, but oh well.

He asks me a few specific questions about the jobs I’ve mentioned, which I answer easily. Toward the end of the interview, he gives me a brief rundown of the contract itself, basically the same details that were in the job description, and I ask a few questions about the expectations of the position, and if it’s a new role or they’re replacing someone who left.

“Our company is going through an expansion, and this package, which includes a photographer, a.k.a. the role you’d potentially be filling, is something new. Hence why we’re starting with a one-year trial. We’re planning to hire two or three photographers and see how the year goes before we make any decisions.”

Two or three photographers?

My heart skips a beat. My chances of getting this role just went up.

“That’s great. Sounds like a neat opportunity for the guests.”

“That’s what we think too. Do you have any other questions for me?”

“The only other thing I’m curious about is the rest of the process. Will there be other interviews? When can I expect to hear something?”

He clasps his hands on the desk in front of him. “We’re planning to start rolling this out in September. We’ve already added it as a package option, and some spots have been booked. I have a few more applicants to interview, but expect to hear from me in two to three weeks. Applicants who move on to the next round will have a brief interview with a few of our tour guides. We’re mainly wanting to make sure that whoever we hire fits in with the guides, since those are the people you’ll be working closely with.”

“Sounds great.”

“If you don’t have any more questions, I think we can end this call. Have a good day, Hadley, and we’ll be in touch.”

“Bye. Thank you. Have a good one,” I say before hitting the End button.

I exhale loudly, slumping back in my chair once I confirm the call is disconnected.

I grab my phone and text Wes the all clear, which he responds to with a thumbs up sign and tells me he’ll be back from the coffee shop in a few minutes.

I told him he didn’t have to leave the apartment, but he insisted. Said he didn’t want to accidentally disturb me. I shut my laptop off and change out of my interview outfit and into something for our date.

“How’d it go?” Wes asks from the doorway of my bedroom twenty minutes later.

“Really good.” I spin around to face him. “So very good. Am I dressed appropriately?”

He wouldn’t tell me where we were going, just that I should bring my camera and be comfortable walking around outside. I opted for my favorite pair of black workout shorts, a maroon tank top, and a pair of sneakers.

“Perfect. Always perfect,” he says as he pushes off the doorframe and checks me out. I blush under his perusal and at the compliment.

“You’re looking good yourself.” He’s dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a blue shirt.

He puts his hand out for me. “Come on, let’s get going.”

I slide my hand into his and let him lead me through the apartment. He grabs a large reusable bag that’s sitting by the front door, and we make our way outside.

“Are we having a picnic?”

His lips tip up into a sly grin. “Maybe. You’ll have to wait and see.”

“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask once we’re buckled into his Jeep and he’s navigating it out of the parking lot.

He glances over at me for a second before focusing back on the road. “Do you not like surprises?”

“I like them just fine, but I’m impatient and want to know where we’re going.”

“Fine. Fine. There’s a nature preserve that has a few trails not far from here. I thought we could hike some, and you could take pictures if you want. I thought it might inspire you.” He peeks over at me again. “There’s a great picnic spot, and it’s usually quiet this time of year.”

“Too hot for the locals.”

“Maybe.” He fidgets in his seat. “If you’re not into it, we can turn around and do something else.”

I study the man sitting next to me. The guy who took into account my love of nature photography when he planned this date. How did I get so lucky? But also, what if I can’t take any good pictures?

“No, it’s perfect. I’m excited, but…” I hesitate.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be taking any pictures.” I toy with the camera bag in my lap.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to. Whatever you feel like doing.” He reaches over and squeezes my knee.

When he goes to move his hand, I put mine on top of it. He turns it over under mine, and then we’re holding hands. I like it. I realize I haven’t held hands with a guy over the center console of a car in a long time.

He clears his throat. “Are we going to talk about the other night?”

My heart skips a beat. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Wanted to make sure I didn’t …” he trails off, and I wait for him to continue. He takes a deep breath before saying, “Wanted to make sure I didn’t cross a line.”

“No, you didn’t. Did I?”

“You cross a line? How would you do that?”

“I don’t know. I figured if you were asking the question, I should too. I enjoyed it. A lot. Everything about it.”

That causes him to glance over at me. “Would you do it again?”

“Yes, and I have a couple of ideas for how we can make it even more enjoyable.”

He groans, shifting in his seat, and I can’t help snorting. “Tornado, you’re killing me.”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk about this now,” I point out. “We could have had this conversation at home, where we could have done more than talk about what went on between us.”

He shakes his head.

When we finally pull into the parking lot, there’s only a couple of other cars here, like he predicted. We decide to leave our lunch in the Jeep while we walk around. He guides us to one of the trailheads.

“This one is short, about a mile round trip. But it’s got great views of the lake, and there’s plenty of shade.”

“Perfect,” I say, smiling up at him. He takes my hand, and we make our way down the trail in silence for a while.

“What made you get into photography?” he asks after a few minutes.

“From a young age, I always enjoyed taking pictures at Holt’s game. Of the players. Other people. Random things in the stands. It kept me entertained during the countless hockey games I got dragged to.”

“And you never thought about being a sports photographer?”

“It crossed my mind, but”—I wave a hand around—“as I got older, I wanted something for myself the way Holt had hockey. My parents didn’t so much as blink when I asked to take photography classes or asked for a new camera. They were happy to oblige.” I sigh. “I think they felt guilty.”

“Why?”

“Because they spent so much money on Holt playing hockey over the years. I think they felt bad about it.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing my hand a little tighter.

“I’m the only one in my family who isn’t athletic. My dad played hockey too. He never made it to the NHL, but he was in the AHL for a couple of years. Even my mom was an athlete. She ran cross-country in college. When I was growing up, she was always training for a half or full marathon. She even did a few triathlons. My dad was always helping Holt with his hockey skills. And I …”

He stops and tugs me into his arms. “You what?”

“I always felt as if I didn’t fit in. I once asked if I was adopted.” I bark out a laugh. I’ve never admitted that to anyone, not even my brother. “I have zero athletic skills. I can ice skate, but nothing fancy. I’m decent on roller skates and a bike. Play catch, sure. But that’s about it.”

“I can’t imagine what that must have felt like growing up.”

I pull out of his hold and start walking again, Wes at my side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

“Don’t apologize. You can talk to me whenever you want, about whatever you want. I’m happy to listen.”

I bob my head, at a loss for words. Instead, I focus on the scene around us. I pause, taking my camera out of the bag, and snap a few photos before we continue down the trail.

“Tell me something about you I don’t know,” I say.

“I’ve always wanted a dog.”

“Yeah?”

He bobs his head. “Yeah. Maybe one day, when I have a house and a family. I’d feel bad leaving it with a dog walker or at a kennel while I travel, which is why I haven’t gotten one yet.”

“Makes sense.”

“How do you feel about dogs?”

I shift my camera bag to my other shoulder. “I like them, but they’re a lot of work. A huge commitment. Not something I ever considered getting, honestly. Becca has a cat, and that seems much more manageable. You don’t have to walk a cat.”

“I can see the appeal, but I’m not much of a cat person. Don’t tell Peaches. She loves me.”

I giggle. “I promise I won’t.”

The one-mile trail takes us way longer than I’m sure he expected it to because I spend the rest of the hike pausing to take pictures of the scenery around us. But Wes doesn’t complain. He even suggests a few spots to stop and take photos that I would have missed. Since it’s midsummer and hot as hell, there isn’t much wildlife, but I do get shots of a couple of lizards, a butterfly, and a bird that neither of us can identify.

“Ready for food?” he asks when we make it back to the parking lot.

“Yes.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and heads over to his Jeep. I wait patiently while he gets everything out.

“Come on.”

He shifts the bag holding our food to his other side, tucks the blanket under the same arm, and grabs my hand. I let him lead me toward the massive grassy area past where we turned onto the trail. He finally settles on a spot under a big oak tree and spreads the blanket on the grass.

“It’s so quiet and relaxing,” I comment as he unpacks our lunch.

“It is today. Probably because of the time of year.” He hands me a sandwich and a bottle of water. “Hope you like ham and cheese.”

“Who doesn’t?”

He chuckles.

“I brought pickles, lettuce, onions, mustard, and a few other random sandwich toppings. Wasn’t sure what you would want.” He gestures toward the lunch box.

“Pickles, onions, and mustard, please.” He passes me a couple of Tupperware containers and a few mustard packets.

“Thanks.”

We’re silent as we fix our sandwiches.

“This was a lot of fun. Thank you for taking me here, and for lunch.” I lean over and kiss him gently before drawing back.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

When we’re done eating a little while later, he asks, “Want to go for another hike or go home?”

“Home. I’m tired from the heat.”

“Same.”

We quickly pack up our stuff and head over to his Jeep.

Being with Wes has been the easiest thing ever, and that’s a scary thought, because what happens when he decides he doesn’t want to be with me anymore? Which is what always ends up happening.

Chapter twenty-seven

Wes

I spent most of the ride home with sweaty palms, not because it was hot out, but because I was anxious that today wasn’t enough. That my picnic and hike date was too lame. She said she enjoyed herself, but would she have rather done something else? Maybe I should have asked her what she wanted to do instead of guessing.

I close my eyes, trying to calm the chaos in my brain. Hadley would have told you if she wasn’t having a good time.

“I think I’m gonna go shower,” I say once we’re inside the apartment. I need a few minutes alone to gather myself and stop the anxiety spiral I’m on. “Want to watch a movie later?”

“A movie sounds good. I probably should shower too.”

I nod and head into my bedroom without a backward glance.

Alone in my room, it hits me—was she expecting me to invite her to shower with me? Shit. Are we at that stage in our relationship? Are we even in a relationship? Why am I so good at helping the guys with their relationships and giving them advice, but with my own, I’m failing miserably? I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends, my gaze darting to the door.

Do I go out there and ask her if she wants to join me in the shower? Probably missed that opportunity. Fuck. I hope I didn’t screw things up. I inhale deeply. It’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine.

“I should talk to her,” I mumble as I strip out of my dirty clothes. “I should stop assuming and ask.” It’s that simple, right?

I hurry through my shower, dry off, and put clothes on, and after what feels like forever but is probably only ten minutes, I’m making my way into the living room, expecting to find Hadley on the couch. But she isn’t there. Before I can call her name, I hear a clatter of dishes.

“What are you—” My voice catches in my throat as I step into the kitchen.

She’s standing in front of the microwave, which has popcorn popping inside it, wearing a Storm shirt with my name and number on it and no shorts. Guess that’s my answer about whether she had fun on our date or not.

“Hadley Jane.” I stalk into the kitchen and lean against the counter. “What are you doing?”

She peers at me over her shoulder. “Making popcorn. We’re watching a movie. We need a snack.”

She looks like the perfect snack to me.

“Do you know what it does to me seeing you wearing a shirt with my name on it? And no pants?” I rub my hands together, taking her in.

She steps over to me. “It looked comfortable. And pants are overrated.”

“It’s sexy as fuck on you,” I grind out, balling my fists at my side.

She raises her hands above her head in a stretch, and her shirt rides up. Pretty sure she did that on purpose.

“You’re missing underwear though,” I rasp, running a hand over my jaw.

“I was searching for my phone charger in my nightstand, and I saw my vibrator, which led me to thinking about last night, which led me to having wet panties, so I took them off.”

Fuck, this woman is going to be the death of me. Because now I’m thinking about last night too. Her gaze drops to my dick, which I know is now standing at attention. Before I can say anything else, the popcorn finishes popping, and she spins around and opens the microwave door before it can burn.

I step up behind her, letting her feel exactly what she does to me, and whisper in her ear, “I can think of something else to do that’s more fun than watching a movie.” I feather kisses along her neck and reach around her and cup one of her breasts.

She grinds back against me. “What did you have in mind?” she asks breathlessly.

“I’ll give you a hint. It involves a bed and less clothes.” I move my hand from her breast and trail a finger down her chest to the bottom of her shirt, where I play with the hem.

“Mmmm, that sounds fun,” she grinds out, taking my hand and guiding it to where she wants it.

I hiss when I make contact with her sopping wet center. “Is this all for me, tornado?”

“Only you.” She turns so we’re face-to-face. “Just. For. You.” A shiver racks her body as I stroke her clit. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this feral for a man.”

I chuckle. “Only you could make a sexy moment funny.”

I take my hand out from between her legs before capturing her mouth with mine, spearing my hands through her hair, and turning her the way I want her. She grips my shirt, pulling me closer. I thrust against her, and she moans. I use that opportunity to dart my tongue into her mouth. She meets me stroke for stroke as she rocks against my hard length. I move my hands from her hair and grip her hips. She tears her lips away from mine and tips her head back.

“So good. You make me feel so good.”

I kiss along the column of her neck, sucking and nibbling her exposed skin.

“Wrap your legs around me,” I rasp, lifting her up, and she does as I ask.

“Take me to your bed, and make me come,” she whines.

“So needy.” But I’m already moving in that direction.

“Only for you.”

How do I tell her what it feels like to hear her say that? To feel like maybe I’ve finally found my someone, which is crazy because we’ve gone on one date. Two if you count the fake date for the Storm.

We’ve been friendly-ish for a few years, but we don’t know each other on a deeper level that well. And we’ve lived together for a few weeks, but as roommates, not lovers. On the surface, it seems as though we’re compatible. But I don’t know. We haven’t even had our first fight, haven’t talked about what we want for our futures. I know she wants to pursue photography as a career, but what else?

That thought gives me pause.

Are we rushing into things? Would we even work out long-term?

“Wes.” Her groan drags me out of my thoughts and back to the task at hand—making her come.

“Yes, tornado?” I ask, stepping into my room and tossing her gently on the bed.

She immediately sits up and pulls off her shirt, leaving her naked, and I can’t tear my gaze away from her.

“Think you can make me come more than the other night?” she asks with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

I yank my shirt off and push my shorts and boxers off. “I know I can.”

“Bet?”

I stalk closer to the bed. “Bet I can make you come four times tonight.” She hums in response, staring up at me. “What do I win if I can?” I ask before kissing her.

She nips at my bottom lip. “Me.”

Is she saying what I think she’s saying? I pull back to meet her eyes.

“Let me get this straight. Four orgasms, and you agree to what? Be my real fiancée? Girlfriend? Fuck buddy?”

I bounce my eyebrows at her, trying to play off how excited I am that we’re going to be something real and also hoping she doesn’t say wants us to stay as just fuck buddies.

Not that I don’t enjoy sex with her, because I do. I just want more. But if that’s all she’s willing to give me right now, I’ll take it. I’ll take her any way I can have her, and I don’t mean that in a sexual way. I mean, yes to the sex too. But not just the sex. I want her. All of her.

She giggles, patting me on the chest. “Let’s start with girlfriend and boyfriend, Weston Riley.”

I growl, grabbing her wrist and bringing her hand to my lips, nipping her fingers. “Not my middle name, Hadley Jane. But you got yourself a deal. Now lie down, and let me get to work.”

She giggles again, pulling her hand from mine. “Dang it, I should have said you had to tell me your middle name.” She crosses her arms. “A girlfriend should know her boyfriend’s full name.”

I throw my head back, laughing. How can I resist her? Especially when she’s naked on my bed, asking me to pleasure her.

“You drive a hard bargain, Hadley Jane, but yes, I’ll tell you my middle name too. Now lie down and spread your legs so I can earn my prize.”

She does, and I take a moment to appreciate the view. And it is quite the view. Hadley spread out naked on my bed, blonde hair fanned out around her, skin flushed, and hooded green eyes watching me. She is a vision, and I am one lucky man to get to be hers.

“What are you waiting for?” she goads. “Get to work.” She spreads her legs wider.

“Yes, ma’am.” I give her a mock salute before gently pulling her toward the end of the bed and kneeling on the ground, which puts me at eye level with her pussy. I lean forward and swipe my tongue through it.

She squeezes her thighs, holding me in place. As if I’d try to move.

I lick and suck, noting the things that make her clench her thighs tighter. Eventually, I pull back, meeting her eyes.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she husks out.

“Nowhere.”

I slide a finger into her then pull it out and thrust it back in, watching as her eyes roll to the back of her head. I lean forward and suck on her clit. Her thighs begin to shake around me, and I know she’s close. I add a second finger, and she gasps.

“Just like that. Yesss,” she yells as her orgasm rolls through her.

I keep sliding my fingers in and out of her as her hips meet my hand stroke for stroke.

“It’s too much,” she gasps.

I pull my mouth away from her. “Your body tells me otherwise. Let go, and come for me again, tornado. I know you want to.”

I seal my lips around her clit, nipping at the sensitive bud, and that’s all it takes for her to come again with a garbled yell.

“Two.” I smirk, pulling my fingers out of her and standing up.

She sighs, a contented, happy sound that makes my heart soar. I love knowing that I made her feel that way. I grip my cock and give it a few strokes as I peer down at her.

“What are you waiting for? You’ve still got two more to go. I don’t have all night.”

There she is.

I shake my head, pinching her nipples, and she lets out a low moan.

“Did that make you wetter for me? Does my dirty girl enjoy having her nipples pinched?”

“She does,” she whispers.

I grab a condom from the nightstand and roll it on, stroking myself a few times.

“On your knees.”

She scrambles to do as I say, and I bite down on my fist at the sight of Hadley Jane on her knees, dripping for me.

Gripping her hips, I pull her to the edge of the bed and line myself up. She pushes back against me, and I smack her ass.

“In a rush?”

She smirks at me over her shoulder. “I’m starting to think you won’t be able to deliver on those two other orgasms.”

I know she’s deliberately pushing my buttons, but that doesn’t stop me from lightly smacking her other ass cheek before smoothing it. “Behave. And let me have my way with your pussy.”

“Yes, please,” she breathes out as I line myself up and slide into her slowly, giving her time to adjust to me.

I pull out of her and slide back in a few times.

“More, Weston. Give me everything you’ve got.” She adjusts herself so the top half of her body is flush with the bed and her ass is in the air, giving me a better angle. She wiggles her ass at me, and I smack it again before rubbing the spot. She groans into the blanket.

My girl wants fucked, she gets fucked.

“As you wish.” I piston my hips, slamming into her. She grips the blankets, her knuckles turning white.

“I’m so close.”

I lean over her, reaching around and circling my thumb around her clit, pinching it slightly, and that’s all it takes for her to come again.

The familiar tingle starts at the base of my spine, and I know my own orgasm is close, but I told her four, and four is what I plan to give her.

I pull out of her pussy and flip her over so she’s lying on her back, her eyes half closed. I grab a pillow and slide it under her ass.

“I don’t think I’ve got anymore in me,” she whispers, putting her hand over her face.

“I think you do,” I tell her, sliding into her, the pillow allowing me to hit a better, deeper angle.

She gasps and I lean down to kiss her, nipping on her bottom lip, then soothing it with my tongue before pulling back slightly. Her pussy flutters around my cock.

“Eyes on me,” I demand.

She does, and I almost blow my load, but I stave it off, needing her to come. “Feel how far inside you I am. Feel how much of me you’re taking.”

I pull out of her and thrust all the way back in.

Her fingers trail down her body. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

I peer down at where we’re connected. “Touch yourself. I want to watch you play with your clit while I fill your pussy up.”

She does as I say, and I can’t stop watching her.

“I’m so close.”

“Me too,” she pants.

“Come for me, one more time.” I reach down and pinch her nipple, and that’s all it takes.

“I’m coming,” she screams.

Her pussy squeezes my cock so hard, pulling me over the edge, and I spill into the condom, my vision going black for a second.

Chapter twenty-eight

Hadley

“So do I win the prize?” Wes asks when we’re back in his bed, snuggled under the covers after taking a quick shower together and devouring the cold popcorn.

“Yes.” I stretch and kiss him on the cheek.

Even if he had lost the bet, I’d already decided I was going to tell him I wanted us to be together. Being with Weston Reynolds has been the easiest thing ever, which is scary because it has to stop being easy eventually, right?

But I’m not thinking about that right now. I’m trying to enjoy the time we have together. Soak it all up. Because eventually, he’ll decide he doesn’t want me. That I’m not enough for him. Or that he doesn’t have the same feelings for me that I have for him. But until then, I’m going to enjoy this. Enjoy being his.

“Good. Can I take you out tomorrow? I have a place in mind. It’s nothing too spectacular, but I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“I agreed to be your girlfriend. You don’t have to pull out all the stops for me anymore. No need to plan dates. We can just hang out, order takeout, and be lazy.”

He’s silent for a few seconds, and I think he’s fallen asleep, but eventually he speaks. “I will never not pull out all the stops for you, Hadley. You’re important to me. I want to do special things for you.”

“Oh.” I blink back the tears that threaten to fall.

This man.

This sweet, sweet man is ruining me for all other men.

There’s no way any other guy will be better than him. When we break up, because I know it’ll happen—it always does—I’ll just have to make do with the memories.

“Thank you. I don’t … I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve never had that.”

“Well, you have it now,” he says, dropping a kiss to the top of my head before pulling the sheets up and tucking them around us.

I fall asleep listening to the beat of his heart, happy and satisfied and trying to live in the moment.

“You’re taking me to a gas station?” I lean forward, peering out the front window, as he pulls into what is most definitely a gas station the next afternoon. A massive-ass gas station, but still a gas station. Not what I had pictured for our date, that’s for sure.

“Have you ever been here?” he asks, maneuvering his Jeep into a parking spot.

“Nope.”

“You’re missing out. Come on, let’s go inside.” He shuts off his Jeep and climbs out.

With a resigned sigh, I do the same, rounding the car to where he’s waiting for me on the sidewalk.

“It’s a gas station, Weston. I’ve been to plenty of those before.” I roll my eyes.

“Nah, this isn’t any old gas station. This is a Buc-ee’s.” He says it like I should know what that means, but I don’t.

“Oh-kay?”

“Not only do they have over a hundred gas pumps, but the inside is the size of a grocery store. It’s really cool. Come on, I promise you won’t be disappointed.” He puts out his hand, and I take it, letting him lead me toward the front door, not convinced I’m going to change my mind.

“Welcome to Buc-ee’s,” a cashier greets us as we enter.

My jaw about hits the floor as I take everything in.

“Shit,” I mumble.

He wasn’t kidding. This isn’t any old gas station. This place is huge. And it’s immaculate. Like, spotless. The floors are shining. Even the ceiling is clean, and let me tell you, that’s a good indication that a place is kept pristine.

“Where do you even start in a place this size?” I ask.

He gently tugs at my hand, pulling me further into the store.

“They’ve got everything here,” I mumble, taking it all in as we make our way through the aisles.

One side of the store is filled with home goods—dishes, cookware, cookbooks, home decor. The other side has a barbecue station, a counter that’s all fudge and other sweets, and a wall of beef jerky. Yes, a wall of jerky.

The back section, where Wes brings us, is filled with merchandise featuring Buc-ee, a cute beaver wearing a red shirt with his face on it and a red corduroy hat. His face is on everything you could possibly want, from bathing suits to towels to pillows to shirts and even mugs, shot glasses, and jewelry by the looks of it.

“Oh my gosh, he’s adorable,” I gush, walking over to a big red truck with its bed filled with Buc-ee plushies. I pick one up and hug it to my chest.

How can I resist loving a cute beaver with his two big buck teeth and his little red hat? I can’t help the grin on my face as I take it all in, the stuffed toy tucked into my arms. I’ll admit, I’m sold on the gas station now, and I can see the appeal.

“Pick one you like,” Wes says, stepping up behind me. His hands go to my waist as he leans around me and peers into the bed of the truck. “They’ve got Buc-ees in other sizes too.”

“Nah, I’m too old for stuffed animals,” I mumble, setting the toy back down.

That’s what I’m supposed to say. Right? What I’m supposed to think. So why does it make me sad? I’m a fucking adult. I do not need a stuffed animal. I’m too old for them.

“Who says?” He lets go of my waist and picks the plushie back up. “If he makes you happy, he should go home with you.”

I take the Buc-ee from him and hug it to my chest. I take a few deep breaths, blinking away the tears that are prickling in the corners of my eyes as Wes’s words play over and over in my head. For the first time, I feel seen by the guy I’m dating.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, turning me so I’m facing him. “What happened? Did I say something wrong?” His eyebrows crinkle as he scans my face.

“N-no,” I choke out. “Nothing.” I shake my head.

“Talk to me, please,” he implores.

“I used to have a couple of stuffed animals on my bed at my first apartment. The guy I was dating at the time, not Henry, came over shortly after I moved in, and he laughed at them and told me I was too old for them. Asked me if I knew any other twenty-somethings who still had stuffed animals. He made me feel stupid for liking them. Strongly hinted I should get rid of them if I wanted to be taken seriously as an adult. That wasn’t what broke us up a few months later, but it definitely didn’t help.”

“What’s his name, and where does he live?”

I haven’t thought about that for years and have never talked about it with anyone. Because no one would have understood how I felt, until now, until Wes. I pat his chest, and before I can answer, he’s hugging me tightly. I sag into him.

“I kept them and got rid of him. They live in the closet in my old room at my parents’ house now. I hadn’t thought about them or what my ex said in a long time. I guess I got a little emotional about it.” I take a step back, clearing my throat.

“Well, we’re getting you a Buc-ee then. Want me to get one too? We’ll match. They can be friends,” he says. It’s silly but also swoony as hell. I shake my head. “Well, how about we see what else they have that we need? I haven’t been in a while to see what’s new.” He reaches for me, and I shift the stuffed animal so I can hold his hand.

This man.

How does he know exactly what to say? Every time I think he can’t be any more perfect, he goes and does something like that. It might be simple and silly to others, but after all the guys who wanted to change me when they got to know the real me, it’s nice to finally be accepted for who I am.

We spend the rest of the trip joking and having a good time, and we end up with way too much stuff. He insists I pick out a Buc-ee’s shirt, and he gets a new one for himself. When I ask him how many he already has, he gives me the side-eye. We also grab a few different types of beef jerky, a bag of their homemade sweet almonds, a pulled pork sandwich to share, since he insists I need to try it, and a few different types of gummy bears. Because Wes has a major sweet tooth.

“You’re telling me you’ve never had a slushy?” he asks as we make our way out to his Jeep, our arms laden with bags.

“No.” I shake my head, looking at the cup in my hand that’s filled with my first ICEE—a frozen classic cola. “I’m not much of a soda person.”

“Well, come on, take a sip. I’m waiting,” he says, coming to a halt in front of his Jeep and tipping his chin toward my cup.

I take a sip. “It’s good,” I say. “A bit sweet. I’m glad I got a small.”

He opens the back of his Jeep, and we put our bags in, then he helps me into the passenger side.

This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

“Thank you for taking me to Buc-ee’s. I haven’t had this much fun at a gas station, ever,” I say once he’s gotten into the car.

“Hadley Jane.” He pins me with a look that says he knows I’m messing with him.

“Fine. Fine. Weston Smith, I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. So thank you.”

He snorts out a laugh. “Not my middle name.”

I lift a shoulder in a shrug, buckling my seat belt. “Hey, you never told me your middle name. You promised.” I pretend to pout.

He glances over at me for a second before buckling his seatbelt and reversing out of the parking spot.

“Come on, tell me. Wait, I know, is it Weston Harriet? Weston Weston?” I tap my chin, trying to come up with even more ridiculous options. “Oh, I know. Weston Easton.”

“None of those.”

“Hmmm …”

“Fine, you really want to know?”

“I do. It’s killing me not knowing.” I put a hand to my chest, sighing dramatically.

“I don’t have one.”

I gasp. “I’m sorry. Come again?”

“I guess technically it’s A.”

“Like the letter A?”

“Yes.”

“Well …”

He chuckles. “Told you it wasn’t that exciting.”

“Who doesn’t give their kid a middle name?”

“My parents couldn’t agree on one that went with my first name, so they picked A because my mom’s name was Anna.”

“That’s a sweet story, even if it is weird you don’t have a middle name.”

“Well, now you know my deepest darkest secret,” he says, the sarcasm evident in his voice.

“That I do. That I do, Weston A. Reynolds.”

Chapter twenty-nine

Wes

“You ready for this?” I adjust my grip on the baby shower gift I’m holding and turn to peek at Hadley.

She swallows, fiddling with the basket in her hand. Another gift from the two of us. She insisted that the swing I’d picked out for Hunt and Mads was for the baby, and we should put together a gift for the parents, specifically momma, since she’d be doing the hard work. Didn’t have to tell me twice.

We may have gone a little overboard, hence the huge basket Hadley’s carrying, which is filled with Madison’s favorites: gift cards to the local coffee shop and a few of the restaurants she and Hunt enjoy, and a few other things Hadley deemed essential.

“Hads?” I prompt.

She squares her shoulders, turning to me. “Let’s do this thing.”

With that, we make our way up the sidewalk toward Hunter and Madison’s house. Pausing at the door, I try to decide if I’m supposed to ring the doorbell or just go in. Before I can make a decision, the door swings open, and Elias, Hunter’s half brother, who I haven’t seen since the season ended—almost three months ago now, since it’s early July—is standing there.

“Hey, E. Good to see you. Didn’t realize you were back in town,” I greet him.

“Hey, guys.” He breaks out into a slow grin, glancing between Hadley and me. “I wanted to be close in case Hunt needed me. Besides, I couldn’t miss their baby shower.”

I can understand that. According to what Hunt told me last week, Madison’s technically full term and could go into labor at any moment. And aside from her dad and her aunt, they have no other family here. I’m sure Hunt’s cousins, who were more like parents to him, would be down here in a heartbeat for the birth of his first child if he asked them, but I know he hasn’t.

“Hi, Elias,” Hadley says.

“Heard congratulations are in order,” he says, stepping back so we can head inside.

“Yep, we’re engaged,” I say.

“I’m happy for you. Both of you,” Elias says as he rounds the corner and pauses in the entrance to the living room.

“Thanks,” Hadley says.

I scan the room, noting that most of my teammates and their partners are here. There’s even a few of the retired guys who still live locally.

“I’m gonna go find the guys,” I tell her once we’ve dropped off our gifts. “Do you want to come with me?” I study her, trying to figure out how she feels about this. Aside from the moment on the sidewalk, I can’t tell if she’s nervous or not.

She shakes her head. “I’m going to go say hi to Sutton and Ansley.”

“Okay.” I kiss her cheek, and we go our separate ways.

“Brother,” Holt greets me when I step into the kitchen, where he, Hunter, and Elias are hanging out.

I shoot him a look that I hope conveys don’t oversell it. “Not yet.”

“Thanks for coming,” Hunter says, giving me a hug.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. No Sebastian, eh?”

Hunter shakes his head. “No, he sent a gift but wasn’t able to make it. He’s back home in England, something about helping his mom on the farm.”

“His family owns a farm?”

Hunter shrugs. “He didn’t say own. Maybe they work on it. Or rent it.”

“Huh,” I mumble, taking the beer that Elias hands me. “Thanks.”

“You’re the last one standing,” Holt says to Elias.

“Last one standing?” Elias asks.

“Not dating, engaged, or married to anyone,” I answer. Technically, Hadley and I aren’t engaged, but we are dating, so I guess I’m still not single.

Elias scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Sebastian is single too.”

“Pfft, he and Sutton are endgame,” I say, grabbing a chip from the bowl on the counter and dunking it in the salsa before popping it into my mouth.

“Unless there’s something you’re not telling us,” Hunt says to his brother before taking a sip of his drink.

“Ha. Nope. Nope,” Elias says, shaking his head a little too vigorously. “Bachelor life for me.”

“We should set him up with someone,” Holt says. “Anyone you’re interested in?”

“Hey, guys,” Caleb, our former team captain who lives locally with his family, says as he enters the kitchen. “Look who I found.”

I turn to see him holding Hazel. “Aww, thanks for finding her.” I set my beer bottle on the counter and walk over to them, my hands outstretched. “Hazel, girl, want to come hang out with your favorite uncle?”

One of the guys snorts, but I ignore it. They’ve all tried to take the best uncle title away from me, but none have succeeded.

Hazel giggles, clapping her hands, and I take her from Caleb, who lets go reluctantly. He’s got kids of his own. He doesn’t need to snuggle my niece.

“She started crawling the other day,” Holt says.

“She did?” I swing back around to face them. “You’re crawling now, Haze, girl.” I kiss her on the cheek.

“She’ll be walking before you know it,” Caleb says.

Holt groans, and I can’t help smiling. “I thought I’d have a few more months. She’s only nine months old.”

“Just you wait,” Caleb says, grabbing a beer out of the fridge. “See what you have to look forward to,” he tells Hunter.

Hunter just grins. “I’m so excited. I can’t wait. And to think our kids will get to grow up together,” he says to Holt, rubbing his hands together. They share a look.

My shoulders slump, and a pang of sadness pings through me at the thought of the bond they’re sure to form over both being dads. An exclusive club I’m not invited to.

“We hanging out here or joining the rest of the party in the living room?” Caleb asks.

“Right, living room,” Hunter says, leading the way out of the kitchen.

Coach makes a beeline for me and holds his arms out for Hazel. “Gotta get some practice in before my grandson gets here.”

“Want to go to your Great-uncle Jake?” I ask Hazel.

She claps her hands together and reaches for him. I let her go, and once relieved of my baby duties, zero in on Hadley, who is sitting on the couch between Sutton and Ansley, the three of them having a very animated discussion. Madison is relaxing in a rocking chair next to the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table.

“Hi, ladies,” I greet them. “Momma.” I kiss Mads on the cheek. “How are you feeling?”

She rubs her very pregnant stomach. “Tired. Ready for little man to be out.”

“I can imagine. Anyone need anything?”

“Could you get me more water?” Madison holds up her reusable cup. “Or ask my husband to do it.”

“I got you.” I take it from her. “Anyone else?”

“No. Thanks.” Ansley gets to her feet. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Excuse me.”

Sutton shakes her head.

“I’m good. Thanks,” Hadley says.

I lean down and kiss her, just because I can, before I stand to my full height, wink at her, and walk away to get Madison’s drink.

Chapter thirty

Hadley

“That was hot,” Madison says the minute Wes disappears back into the kitchen.

“It was barely a kiss.”

“It was adorable, and I’m kind of jealous,” Sutton interjects.

“Who’s jealous?” Ansley asks, coming over to us with a bowl of chips in one hand and a plate of deli meat, carrots, and celery in the other.

“I said I was kind of jealous of Hadley and Wes,” Sutton tells Ansley, grabbing a carrot off her plate and taking a bite of it.

“Remind me again why you and Sebastian aren’t dating,” Ansley asks, getting settled. “Oh, that’s right, because you’re too stubborn to say yes.”

Sutton shakes her head. “I think I’m about done with the dating scene. It’s exhausting.”

She snags a chip from Ansley’s bowl.

“Hey, hands off. Get your own.” Ansley smacks Sutton’s hand away, holding her bowl out of her grasp.

“Here.” Becca walks over with a bowl of chips and sets them down on the coffee table. “I don’t know why the guys felt the need to put all the snacks on the dining room table. It looks nice set up over there, but it just means we have to keep getting up. I told Holt to bring everything over here.”

“Dating is shit,” Rachel, Madison’s friend, pipes up.

Sutton opens her mouth as if to say something, but then abruptly closes it, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone, her eyes widening when she sees who’s calling.

“Hello,” she says into the phone before turning to us. “Sorry, it’s my sister. I need to take it.” She starts talking again as she steps away.

“Did you know she had a sister?” Ansley asks.

“No. Did any of you?” I answer, glancing at the other women.

“No idea,” Madison says, shaking her head.

I turn my attention to Ansley and Becca. “I’m realizing I don’t know much about Sutton. Does she have a lot of siblings?” I squint as if that will somehow answer the question.

“Does who have a lot of siblings?” Holt asks.

He sets a platter down on the coffee table before heading over to where Becca is perched on the end of the sofa. He gives her a quick kiss.

“Sutton,” Madison says. “Hey, Dad.” She waves her father over.

“What’s up, Mads?” Jake comes over, holding Hazel.

“What do you know about Sutton?” Madison asks.

“Not much. Mainly her educational background and her work experience. Why?” Jake asks.

Before anyone else can say anything, the woman in question walks back into the room.

“What?” She wipes her mouth. “Do I have food on my face? Food on my shirt? Wouldn’t be the first time.” She pulls her top away from her body and inspects it.

“No, no food,” Madison says, resting her hands on her stomach. “We feel like bad friends because we didn’t know you had a sister.”

“You have siblings?” Wes asks, coming up to us, some of the guys trailing along with him.

Sutton turns red, rocking back on her heels and glancing around the room. “I do. Two half-siblings from my father’s second marriage.”

Wes widens his eyes at me as if to say he’s as shocked as I am at the news, and given the way everyone else is staring at Sutton with some level of surprise on their faces, I’d say they all feel the same. Sutton fiddles with the ring on her thumb, staring at the ground.

“That must have been rough growing up,” Holt says. “One sibling is hard enough. I can’t imagine multiple.”

“Hey now,” I protest, and my brother laughs.

“I’ve always wanted siblings,” Wes says.

“You can have mine,” I mumble.

Sutton shifts on her feet. “My father—” She blows out a breath, wrapping her arms around herself. “There’s a big age gap between me and my younger siblings.”

Wes opens his mouth as if to ask something else, but I shake my head slightly at him. We need to change the subject. I glance around the room and catch Becca’s eye. She winks at me as if to say she’s got this.

“How about the parents-to-be open their presents?” Becca suggests.

The conversation shifts as the guys start bringing the presents over. I take a moment to study Sutton. I wonder what else I don’t know about my friend.

We spend the rest of the afternoon enjoying ourselves. After the presents are opened, the cake that Rachel made is brought out, and we sit around laughing and talking for a few hours. Thankfully, no one asks Sutton anymore questions about her family.

“Ready to go home, tornado?” Wes asks as I’m wiping my hands on a towel in the kitchen, having loaded the dishwasher even though Hunter and Madison both told me I didn’t need to.

I know I didn’t need to. But I wanted to help. Figured it would be one less thing they’d have to worry about.

“Yep.”

He follows me out of the kitchen, and we say goodbye to everyone before he takes my hand and leads me out of the house so we can go home.

I don’t let myself linger on the fact that Wes’s house is starting to feel like home because I’m still not certain this won’t end in heartbreak.

Chapter thirty-one

Wes

“Hey, man,” Sebastian greets me when I step into the locker room a week later.

“You’re back.”

“Got in yesterday evening. Sad I couldn’t come back a week earlier for Cap’s baby shower, but it is what it is. Still a little jet-lagged, but I figured it would be good to get back into the routine sooner rather than later.”

“Makes sense.” I tug off my shirt and shorts and grab practice gear from where it’s hung in my stall, and start getting dressed.

“I heard a rumor,” he says a few minutes later.

“This rumor made it all the way to England?”

Let me guess.

“I heard you were engaged. Didn’t even realize you were dating anyone, mate.”

“It’s true.” I go back to lacing up my skates.

“Hey, guys,” Elias says, strolling into the locker room.

“You guys see the latest pictures of Brody’s daughter? Abby looks like her momma,” I say.

Brody and Aubrey had their little girl a few weeks ago, at the end of June. I’d have been at the hospital the minute Brody called me, but they asked for no visitors, aside from Aubrey’s two sisters, who were there during the birth, and I’ve respected their wishes, reluctantly. I get it. I do. I am hoping they’re up for guests soon. I’m excited to meet my newest niece. Brody sent me a bunch of pictures, which have helped, but I can’t wait to meet her in person, get to hold her.

“Yeah, she’s adorable,” Eli says.

He gets a faraway look in his eye. What’s that about? Especially after his comment at the baby shower about being a bachelor for life. If Hadley wasn’t waiting for me, I’d stay and ask him about it, but that’ll have to be a conversation for another day.

“Sorry to cut this short, but I gotta get out there. My girl’s waiting for me.” I stand, grabbing my stick. “Let’s plan to get beers and catch up. I want to hear all about your summers.”

With a wave, I head out of the locker room and toward the ice, where Hadley is.

“Hey, tornado,” I greet her when I spot her sitting behind the bench chatting with Bristol Jackson, our video coach. “Hey, Coach.”

“Good to see you, Reynolds. Hadley was filling me in on what you all were up to today.”

“Bristol and I were also exchanging numbers so we can hang out. She was telling me she still doesn’t have many friends even though she’s been here since the middle of last season.” Hadley frowns. “I wish I’d known sooner.”

“Sorry, Coach.” I grimace.

Shit. I didn’t even think about it. I guess I always figured the coaches had their own families and friends and that they spent enough time with us during the long season that they wouldn’t want to spend even more time with us outside of work. Brody, well, he’s unique because he used to be a teammate and is one of our best friends. And then, of course, Coach Weaver is Madison’s dad, so he’s going to be around.

I didn’t even think about Coach Jackson being new to town, and since she arrived late in the season, family day had already passed, and it never crossed my mind that she might not have anyone.

Shit.

“It’s fine.” She waves a hand around. “Honestly, it’s no big deal. But it was nice to meet you,” she says to Hadley. “I hope you’ll share the pictures.”

“What pictures? What’d we miss?” Sebastian asks as he and Eli make their way over.

I start to tell them to butt out, but I don’t get that far.

“There you are,” Ansley says, stepping out from the hallway. “We had an appointment,” she says to Eli, crossing her arms over her chest. “We need to talk about the segment we’re filming together next week.”

He hangs his head. “Shit.”

“I’ll do it,” Sebastian says, glancing between the two of them.

“No.” Elias levels Sebastian a look that has me stifling a laugh.

What is going on there?

“Fine. Fine. Sorry, mate.” Sebastian puts up his hands in surrender. “I’m just gonna …” He points toward the ice but doesn’t wait for anyone to respond, simply hops over the boards and skates away.

Good call, man.

Good call.

I turn back to where Ansley and Elias are having a staring contest.

“Fine,” Ansley says, looking away. “You might as well skate since you’re already dressed for it, but then afterward come to my office. I’m not chasing you around.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Elias salutes her before he hops over the boards too and skates away.

She shakes her head at him, then turns her attention to the rest of us. “What?”

“Nothing,” I mutter, glancing at Hadley, who is fiddling with her camera, trying to act as though she’s not interested in what’s going on, but I see the way she’s biting the corner of her lip. She wants to say something. She’s probably wondering the same thing I am.

“You need me, Ansley?” I ask.

“No.” She blows out a breath, shooting a glare in Elias’s direction. “Unless you can talk some sense into him.”

“Huh?” I scratch my head.

She waves me away. “Nothing. Never mind. Besides, I can handle grumpy broody hockey players.” With that, she turns and goes back the way she came.

“I’m gonna go too,” Coach Jackson says, standing. “See y’all around.”

“Bye, Coach,” I say as she walks away.

“Was that? Did that …” Hadley asks when we’re alone.

“I thought the same thing.” I shrug. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.”

She follows me toward the ice, and I unlatch the half door so she can step out. No way am I going to ask her to jump over the boards.

She spends the next hour directing me on how and where to skate. Shots she wants. We even get Elias and Sebastian involved at one point for a few group action photos.

She’s in her element in the way she lines up the shots and directs us where to go.

I wonder if the Storm is hiring, because I think she’d be a great addition to the team. Not that I know anything about taking photographs for the Storm besides what I’ve observed from our team photographers.

Is it selfish of me that I want her to work for the team? That I want her to stay here?

With me.

I want her forever.

I am one hundred percent in love with Hadley.

I want her to be my real fiancée.

And then my wife.

Is it too fast? Too soon? I don’t know, but it’s how I feel.

I just hope she feels the same way.

“Want to see the pictures Becca sent me earlier today of Hazel? She’s so adorable.” Hadley asks me as I’m eating the last bite of dinner later that evening. She’s on her feet and going over to the island to grab her phone before I can answer.

“You’ve had new photos of my niece for how long and haven’t shown me? Of course I want to see them.”

“She only sent them this morning. I wasn’t going to bust them out at the rink.” She starts to sit back in her seat, but I push my chair away from the table and snag her around the waist, pulling her into my lap. “This is better,” I murmur into her hair before planting a kiss on her neck.

She unlocks her phone and flips through the images of Hazel. Normally, I’d be giving my full attention to photos of my favorite tiny human, but I’m a little distracted right now. Did not think this through. I wrap my arms around her, palming her tits and burying my head in her neck.

“I thought you wanted to see pictures.”

“Mmmm, this is better.”

She shifts in my lap, and my dick starts to harden at the feel of her warmth. We may both be fully clothed, but I know what she feels like, what she looks like naked, and so does my dick. And he wants her. I want her.

She sets her phone down on the table before brushing her hair off her shoulder. I take advantage of her bare skin in front of me and nip along her neck, loving the sounds she makes when I suck on the spot where her neck meets her shoulder.

“Are you wet for me, tornado? Aching for me?” I run a finger along the edge of her shorts, eliciting a shiver from her.

“Always, Wes. Always.”

“Is that an invitation?” My fingers find the button on her shorts.

“Yes, please.” She pushes my hand aside and deals with the button and zip herself.

“Someone is impatient today.”

“I’ve been impatient since I had to watch you skate around for hours and couldn’t touch you.”

I hum. “My girl is turned on by me skating. Got it.” I slide a hand into her underwear, swiping a finger along her clit.

She groans, and I take that as an invitation to continue. “Lift up,” I say, taking my hand out from between her legs. She does, and between the two of us, we manage to push her shorts and underwear down. “Spread your legs,” I tell her when she’s sitting back on my lap.

She hooks her legs around the outside of mine, giving me more access.

“I wish I could see what you look like spread out for me like this.” I circle a finger around her clit.

“Please,” she whines.

“Do you want to watch?”

“Yes.” Her voice is breathless. “There’s a mirror in my room.”

Not needing to be told twice, I stand, taking her with me, and march the short distance to her bedroom. I plop down on the end of the bed, facing the full-length mirror on the opposite wall that I put up for her a few weeks ago, thanking past us for hanging it up. Did not think we’d be using it for this, but I’m not complaining.

My dick gets harder at the sight of her spread out on my lap. “Take your top off.”

She yanks her shirt off and discards it on the floor.

“Play with your tits, and watch me make you fall apart on my fingers.” I lazily stroke a finger through her pussy lips.

She stares at me through the mirror, plucking her nipples as she grinds against my hand.

I close my eyes for a second, trying to get a hold of myself. Between her being naked, the way she’s moving against me, and being able to see everything in the mirror, I don’t know if I’m going to keep it together. I’ve never come in my pants. Tonight might be a first for me.

I stroke first one finger, then a second, in and out of her as she plays with her nipples. I shift so I can use my thumb on her clit.

“Fuck,” she huffs out, throwing her head back against my chest.

“Eyes on me.”

She peers at me in the mirror for a second before she shifts her attention to where I’m touching her.

“Do you hear how wet you are for me?” I slide my fingers all the way out and then back in, curving to hit her G-spot before pulling my fingers out, an idea forming in my head.

“Grab your vibrator.”

“Wha—”

“Do it.” I tip my chin toward the nightstand, where I know she keeps it.

She crawls off me to grab it, and I can’t help slapping her ass when she shakes it at me.

“Wes,” she husks out, glancing at me over her shoulder.

“You like that?” I push down my shorts and pull off my shirt, needing to feel her skin against mine.

“Nope,” she sasses, situating herself in front of where I’m sitting on the edge of the bed with my legs spread out.

“Don’t lie to me.” I lean down and kiss along her neck.

“Or what?” she asks, wiggling against my hard dick trapped between her back and my body.

I grip her hips. “We can stop this right now.” I start to move my hands.

“Don’t you dare, Weston A. Reynolds.” She grabs my hand and guides it between her legs.

“Use the vibrator on your clit, baby. And watch me fuck you in the mirror.”

She does, bucking against me and letting out the sexiest noises I’ve ever heard. I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from coming against her back at the sight. She’s magnificent. Why have I not tried this before? This might be my new favorite show.

It doesn’t take long between the vibrator and my fingers before her pussy is squeezing me so hard, and she’s yelling out my name. I stroke her through her orgasm before pulling my fingers out. I make sure she’s still watching me, then I bring them to my mouth and lick them clean.

She groans, turning in my hold and pushing against me. I shift up the bed so I can lie down, and she climbs on top of me.

“Are you going to ride me, cowgirl?” I ask as she hovers over me.

“I am.” She starts to lower herself. “Shit.” She lifts back up, her eyes wild. “Condom.”

“I got tested a few months ago. Annual physical. I can show you the papers if you want. I haven’t been with anyone since the test except for you.” The words are out before I can stop them. “I’ve never been bare inside of any woman, not that there have been many.” Never wanted to risk getting anyone pregnant who I wasn’t sure was my forever. But Hadley. She’s my forever. There won’t be any other woman for me. “But I can go get a condom if you’re not comfortable.” I’d never do anything she wasn’t on board with.

“I’m on birth control. And I got tested after I broke up with Henry.” She cringes. “Not that I thought he was cheating on me or anything. I just wanted to be sure everything was okay. There hasn’t been anyone since.”

“Whatever you want. It’s your call.”

“I want to feel you inside of me with nothing between us.”

Thank fuck.

I help guide her down on top of me, both of us groaning when she sinks all the way down. She swirls her hips, getting used to my size, and I squeeze my eyes shut, staving off my orgasm.

Wanting to enjoy this.

Never wanting it to end.

Chapter thirty-two

Hadley

I roll my hips, feeling the swoosh in the bottom of my stomach that tells me another orgasm is building.

How is it that every time with Wes gets better and better? How is he real? How is this my life?

I stare down at the man below me, who looks as though he’s about to lose his mind. Watching him touch me in the mirror. Holy shit, that was hot with a capital H. Wonder if he’d fuck me in front of it. And now I’m even more turned on.

I lift up until just the tip of his cock is inside me before slamming back down and taking all of him. I repeat the process a few times, eliciting moans from both of us. He grips my hips but doesn’t try to take over, letting me control the pace.

“I’m so close. I need you to come again. Touch yourself.”

Happy to oblige, I reach down and strum my clit with one hand while pinching my nipple with the other. He holds me steady, helping me bounce on top of him.

“Yes, like that,” I tell him as the orgasm builds.

“Come on my cock, tornado. I want to feel you squeezing me before I fill you up.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” I chant as my orgasm plows into me.

He ruts up into me a few times; how he even has the core strength to do that is beyond me, and then he’s coming with a roar. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and I swear his orgasm triggers another one for me, or maybe it’s a continuation of the one before.

I fall forward onto his chest, and he cradles me against him, running a hand over my back. We lie like that for who knows how long before he pulls out of me, and I whine at the empty feeling.

“Do you need another round, tornado?”

“Maybe,” I mutter.

He hums, stroking my pussy gently, his fingers tracing through the mess we made.

“Are you pushing your cum back inside of me?”

“Yes.”

I can’t help the grin that breaks out on my face. “Didn’t know you had a breeding kink.”

His gaze darkens as his focus bounces between my face and his cum leaking out of my pussy. He visibly swallows. “I didn’t know I did either.”

I pat the bed next to me. “Lie down with me.”

He gathers me into his arms so my head is resting on his chest. We lie in silence for a few minutes. My eyes drift closed.

I could get used to this.

Scenes of future us dance into my head. Him coming home after a road trip and us falling into bed. Falling asleep in his bed, now our bed, when he’s on the road. Going on trips together. Getting married. Him retiring. Traveling. Growing old together.

I blink my eyes open, pushing to sit up, my heart racing. I scrub a hand down my face and start to climb out of bed.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up.”

“Let me do it. You stay there. I’ll get a washcloth.” He hops to his feet.

I try to push down the panic telling me that things can’t, won’t, work out between Wes and me. Relationships never work out for me. This one is no different. He’ll soon realize that I’m not who he really wants, and we’ll break up.

“You alright, tornado?”

I blink out of my thoughts. How long has he been standing there? Pull your shit together, Hadley. “Sorry, just tired.”

He smirks, climbing onto the bed and cleaning me up, despite my protests that I can do it myself, before I get up to use the bathroom.

“What do you want to do for the rest of the night?” he asks when I’m lying down next to him again.

“Watch a movie.” I stifle a yawn.

He pulls me close to him as he turns on the television that’s mounted on the opposite wall. He kisses the top of my head, and I melt into him. Shit, this is going to hurt when it all ends. I push that thought out of my head and force myself to focus on the movie he chose, another early two-thousands rom-com.

“Hey, you,” Callie answers the phone on the first ring the next afternoon.

I’m snuggled up on the couch while Wes is at the arena working out with a few of his teammates.

“Hey.”

“What’s wrong?”

I huff out a breath. “I went and fell for my fake fiancé. My brother’s best friend. Now I’m fucked. Literally and figuratively.”

“And why is that a bad thing?”

“Because,” I whine, “you know my track record. It’s only a matter of time before he ends it. This time, it isn’t like all the other times. I don’t know if my heart will survive.”

“Oh, Hadley,” Callie says softly. “Have you ever thought that maybe this feels different because it is different?”

“I don’t know if that’s possible.” I pick at the edge of the blanket.

“Why are you so jaded? Wait, no, don’t answer that. I know the answer. Better question is, why don’t you just enjoy the relationship? See what happens, where things go.”

I turn her words over in my head, trying to figure out how to explain what I feel. I finally settle on saying, “I don’t think I’m good enough for him. He can do so much better than me.”

“Hadley,” she chastises.

“No, seriously. He’s a professional hockey player. And I’m a nobody, an unemployed aspiring photographer.”

I bark out a laugh at the ridiculousness of us as a couple. What the hell am I thinking? He deserves so much better than me. How could I be so delusional to think we could be anything but fake? I pull the blanket over my head.

“Hadley Jane Abbott,” she snaps.

“What?”

“You’re being ridiculous. Do you hear yourself? Did you forget that your brother is a professional hockey player? What about the women married to the other players who you hang out with? Aren’t they as normal as you are?”

“They all have jobs.”

“Hadley. I love you, remember that.” She pauses, and I brace myself for what she’s going to say. “I think you’re trying to find reasons this can’t work out. Why?”

“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “It feels too good to be true. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to realize he doesn’t like me as I am. Or that me being a photographer isn’t enough. Like all the rest of them.” The last part comes out in a whisper, and I blink back tears.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. I just don’t want you to ruin a good thing because you think it’s going to end.”

“I know. I know. You’re right,” I say, although I’m not sure that I’m entirely convinced. “Thanks, Cal. I’m scared.”

“I know. I get that. But he sounds like a great guy, unlike all the others you’ve dated. I think you should see what happens.”

“Okay,” I whisper after a few seconds of silence.

There’s noise in the background, and then she says, “I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to go deal with an issue.” She huffs out a sigh.

“I understand. Thanks for talking.”

“Of course. Love you, babe.”

“Love you too.”

I hang up the phone and lie on the couch, staring at the ceiling and thinking about what Callie said to me. She does know me better than anyone else, and she has a point.

I still can’t help wondering if maybe Wes is settling by being with me. But I’ll do my best to enjoy things between us, and I’ll deal with whatever the future holds as best I can when it comes to pass.

Chapter thirty-three

Wes

I’m pulling my skates on in the locker room a few days later when Holt strolls in.

“Hey, man,” I greet him.

“Hey. How are things?” He goes over to his stall, pulls out his goalie gear, and starts to get dressed.

“Can’t complain,” I say, finishing tying my skates.

“Is everything still going well with Hadley?”

His question has the hair on the back of my neck standing up. Why is he asking that?

“Yes? We’re together?” Why does it keep coming out as a question? Hadley and I are both adults. Holt is my best friend. He won’t care that I’m dating his sister. I square my shoulders. “I care about your sister a lot, and I’m pretty sure she feels the same way.”

“Oh, really.” He smirks at me. “What an interesting turn of events.”

Before I can ask him what he means, the locker-room door swings open, and Elias and Sebastian come pouring in.

“Hey, E. Welcome back, Sebastian,” Holt says.

Sebastian strides over to Holt and collapses onto the bench next to him. “Hey, man. We keep missing each other. How was your trip?” He nudges Holt with his shoulder. “Have you asked her the big question yet?”

What? My attention swings from Holt to Sebastian. Is he implying what I think he is?

“We’ve been over this before. Becca and I aren’t rushing into anything. One thing at a time,” Holt says.

“But you bought a ring?” Sebastian asks.

Holt pulls at the back of his neck, his face turning red.

“Leave the poor guy alone,” Elias says. “He’s going at his own pace. How’s your dating life?”

“I don’t have time for that,” Sebastian responds.

“Because he’s too hung up on Sutton,” I mutter to Elias, who has taken a seat next to me.

“Am not,” Sebastian protests.

I shake my head. I’ve missed this. The guys being here, hanging out in the locker room, on the ice. The gang is still not all here since Hunter is home with Madison, who is due any day now, but still, it’s good to hang out. I make a mental note to call Hunter after this workout to see if he and Madison are up for guests. Maybe Hadley and I can swing by later tonight, bring them dinner. Or I can go sit with Madison so Hunter can get a workout in.

I get to my feet. Enough dillydallying. I need to get a skate in so I can get home to my girl.

“See you all later. Unless you want to skate?” I glance between Elias and Sebastian.

“Nah, man, weights only for me today,” Elias says.

“Same. Maybe tomorrow,” says Sebastian.

I nod, grab my stick, and head out onto the ice.

“Did you miss me?” I yell a few hours later when I stride into my apartment, a takeout bag from the taco place we’ve come to love in my hand. “I come bearing food.”

I’m met with silence. I saw Hadley’s car in the parking lot, so I assumed she was home. I suppose it’s possible someone picked her up. I toe off my shoes and pad into the kitchen.

Empty.

I set the to-go bag on the counter.

“Hadley?” I call as I peek into the living room and then into her bedroom, not that she’s been sleeping in there since we got together, but still, I consider it to be her bedroom.

For now.

As I’m turning to walk back toward the living room, the front door opens. My steps falter when she comes into view.

I rush to her side. “What happened?” My gaze goes from the scrape on her knee to her tear-stained face.

“I fell while trying to fucking rollerblade, Weston Reynolds. That’s what happened,” she snaps, and I startle, pulling back.

She doesn’t wait for me to reply, instead pushing past me further into the apartment and dropping her skates onto the floor.

“Let me help you get cleaned up.”

“I can do it myself. I’m a grown woman, Weston,” she snaps as she makes her way to the guest bathroom.

“I didn’t say you weren’t capable. I was trying to help since you’re hurt.”

What’s really the matter? I look around as if the answer will appear out of thin air. It won’t, but I can tell by the tone of her voice that Hadley will not be receptive to my question.

I try a different approach. “I brought tacos home for dinner.”

She pauses, glancing over her shoulder at me. “I’m not hungry, but you go ahead and eat. Put mine in the fridge.”

I take a half step toward her and then think better of it.

I ball my hands into fists so I don’t reach for her because clearly, she needs space.

“There’s a first aid kit under the sink in the primary bathroom if you need it.”

She goes into my bedroom, and a few minutes later, I hear the water turn on. I run a hand through my hair.

My stomach rumbles, so I go into the kitchen, pull out my dinner, and proceed to eat. Alone. In silence. It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine. Maybe if I tell myself that enough, I’ll genuinely believe it.

I’m finishing up when Hadley walks in.

“Hi,” she whispers.

I turn in my seat to face her. “Hey.”

I run my eyes over her, checking for other injuries, but the only one I can see is the one on her knee, which she’s covered with a Band-Aid.

“I’m sorry.” She wraps her arms around herself, staring at the floor.

I scramble out of my seat and over to her.

“Come here,” I whisper, holding my arms open and hoping she’ll let me hug her.

She does, and I feel her relax against me. “Want to tell me what’s going on?” I rub a hand down her back.

She keeps her chest pressed against my shirt. “I didn’t get the job. The one I interviewed with. They sent a fucking rejection email earlier today. Decided before the second round. And I got form rejections today from a few of the others I’d applied for. It’s been one hell no after another, and I snapped.”

“Shit, that sucks, Hadley.”

My heart breaks hearing the sadness in her voice. I want to make it better. Fix it for her. Even if fixing it for her means that she would have had to leave to travel for a year. We could have figured it out. I would do anything for her. Brody and Aubrey did a year of long-distance, and they turned out fine. I know Hadley and I could have done the same.

“I knew it was kind of a long shot. But a few of the others that I applied for weren’t. Maybe I won’t ever get another job in my field. Maybe it’s time to give up trying to pursue photography as a career.”

My chest tightens.

“You’ll find something, eventually. I know you will.”

“Yeah, if I want to be a wedding photographer. And no offense to people who do because it’s a great job, just not one I want. But it might be my only option at this point.”

“Anything I can do?”

“No.” She pulls away from me, and I reluctantly let her go. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” She runs a hand over her face.

“What about starting your own freelance business? Didn’t you do a little bit of that earlier in the year?” I remember Holt telling me how she went out to Ocala to take photos for a woman who rode horses competitively, and that she helped Madison redo the photos on her website. “I’m sure there’s a market for it.”

“Maybe. I’m sure I could string together some jobs for a while, but it’s not enough to live on, to support myself long-term. I mean, I do have the money from Holt for nannying, although I told him I didn’t want it, plus there’s the money coming from the endorsement deal, but eventually that will run out.”

I frown. “Hadley, I gave you a credit card for a reason.”

She pats me on the chest. “I can’t let you support me while I live in the lap of luxury and don’t work.”

If she’s not sold on starting her own business and wants to have a job, maybe the team does need another photographer. I never did ask the front office. Can’t hurt to ask them, right?

She was great with me and the other guys when she was photographing us. The players and staff on the team who know her love her. Probably a plus that she’s related to one of the players and dating another. It might even mean that she would travel with the team. So I’d get to see her all the time. A win in my mind.

I keep the idea to myself. I don’t want to get her hopes up if it doesn’t work out.

“No one said anything about you not working, although if that’s what you want, I won’t complain. I’m telling you not to let finances stand in your way of figuring out what you want to do with your life. Don’t let money be what forces you to give up your dreams. I have plenty of it.”

“I appreciate that, but I still need to find a job, figure things out for myself.” She’s quiet for a few seconds. “You mentioned something about tacos?”

I hate that she’s changing the subject, but I’ll let it go for now because I know she’s had a hard day.

“I’ll get them. You sit down.” I pull out my chair for her before grabbing a plate and setting out the tacos I brought home for her. I grab a glass out of the cabinet. “Water? Lemonade? A beer?”

“Water, please.”

“How was your workout?” she asks when I set the plate and her drink in front of her.

“It was good.” I proceed to tell her about the drills I ran with a few of the other defensemen who showed up as I was finishing warming up.

I really want to talk to her more about her job situation and make sure she understands that I’m serious about taking care of her while she figures her career out. That I still want to take care of her after she figures it out. That I want her for forever. But I won’t right now. I can tell she’s still a little on edge. I’m not sure if it’s from falling or from the rejections, so I won’t say anything. But soon.

Because Hadley Jane Abbott is my future.

I just hope she feels the same way about me.

Chapter thirty-four

Hadley

I try to relax and listen to Wes tell me about his afternoon at the arena, but my mind keeps drifting back to our conversation about him supporting me financially. Like I told him, I appreciate his willingness to do that, but I can’t take him up on this. I need to find a job, figure out a way to make money. I want to be able to support myself.

It’s nice being able to count on him, and that does ease a little bit of the anxiety, but I still want to be self-sufficient. I don’t want him to think I’m with him just because of his money and the life it allows me to lead. I want to feel as though I’m contributing to the relationship financially, or at least pulling my own weight. Would he really care one way or another? Probably not. But I do.

Maybe it isn’t even about the money, but more about needing to know that I’m good enough to land a job. That I could land a job if I truly needed to.

“Hadley?”

I blink out of my thoughts. “Huh?”

Shit, the way he’s staring at me makes me think he’s been talking to me for a little while, and I totally did not hear what he was saying.

“I asked if you wanted to watch a movie.”

“Yep. Sure.” I get to my feet and quickly clean up my garbage before following him into the living room.

I try to focus on the movie we settle on, Two Weeks Notice, but it’s hard. I can’t stop thinking about the email I got this afternoon—the one that said, “We interviewed a lot of great candidates. It was a tough decision to make. We’ll keep your resume on file in case we expand and need to hire more photographers,” which basically means we interviewed better people and you’re not good enough.

I knew it was a long shot, and I tried to tell myself that even getting an initial interview was a confidence boost, but at the end of the day, I still wish they’d at least asked me to the next round.

Then the other rejections came in, and that was the icing on the cake.

I hate applying for jobs.

Going roller skating after many years of not skating was probably not a good idea. But I saw the skates in the window of the store downtown when I went for a walk, and one thing led to another. I thought it would be a good way to blow off steam. Get a little workout in.

Unfortunately, I didn’t see the root that had grown under the sidewalk and pushed it up until it was too late. I’m glad that all I did was scrape my knee and bruise my ego, because it could have ended so very badly.

Groaning, I run a hand over my face.

Wes pauses the movie, turning to me. “You alright?”

“Sorry, my mind is elsewhere. I think everything is catching up to me, and I’m starting to feel sore.”

“Do you want to take an Epsom salt bath? We can watch the movie later.”

“A bath sounds nice.” I start to stand up.

“I’ll get it set up for you.” He gets to his feet. “You stay here. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

I sink back into the couch, content to let him draw the bath for me. It’s nice to have someone to take care of me when I don’t feel good or, in this case, when I’m hurting. To have someone to help carry the weight, even if it’s simply listening to me vent. I haven’t truly had that before. Not that my brother and parents haven’t been there for me, but I’m realizing it’s a different feeling when it’s your partner, the person you chose to have in your life.

Hours later, when I’m tucked into Wes’s side in his bed as I’m falling asleep, I swear I hear him say, “I love you.” But before I can ask him, his soft snores fill the room, and soon, I’m also drifting off to sleep.

“I’m home,” Wes yells the next day when he walks into the apartment around lunchtime.

Home. Is this my home now? Do I want it to be my home?

I do. Scary as that sounds. I do want this. I want us. I want Weston Reynolds.

I want it to be real.

All of it.

Forever.

The thought has my heart skipping a beat.

“Hey,” he says, and I shake myself out of my thoughts.

I close my laptop and turn to where he’s casually leaning against the wall that leads into the living room, his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. My eyes have a mind of their own and rake down his body.

“Hi. I missed you.”

He gives me a cocky grin. “Oh, yeah.” He saunters over and gives me a kiss before sitting down on the couch next to me. “So, I have this idea I want to run by you.”

“If it entails tying me up and/or blindfolding me, I’m in. Wax and heat play, no thank you. Sorry, I have to draw the line somewhere.”

He chuckles. “Not that, but I think that could be arranged.”

“Good.” I smirk. “What’s this idea?”

He pulls at the back of his neck, fidgeting in his seat. What’s going on? Why is he nervous?

“When I was at the arena earlier, I ran by Sutton’s office to talk to her. She told me that the team is going to be down a photographer come the start of the season.” I raise my eyebrows. “I threw your name in the ring for the job. She told me to have you email her a link to your portfolio, but it sounded as if she was interested in you filling the role.”

“Weston,” I sputter. So much for his BS that my not having a job isn’t a big deal, and I should take my time to figure out what I want to do. “You crossed a line.”

“What? I was just trying to help.”

I throw my hands up. “By basically getting me a job. Because I can’t get one myself.”

He frowns. “No, Hadley. I recommended you. If you get this job, it’ll be because you deserve it.”

“I hate to break it to you, Weston Reynolds, but I’m only going to get this job because of you and my brother. If I was someone else off the street, it wouldn’t matter how good my portfolio was.”

“And you have a problem with me recommending you?”

“I do.” I cross my arms. “Last night, you told me I should take all the time I need to figure out what I want to do with my life, and it’s fine that I don’t have a job. Now here you are getting me one.”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times. “I—that wasn’t my intention.”

I get to my feet. “So me being an unemployed photographer is a problem for you. Got it.” I snatch my laptop off the coffee table and storm past him. “You’re no better than all of my exes who wanted me to change, Weston.”

“Hadley, please. I was trying to help.”

“I didn’t ask you to get me a job.” I stomp into the guest room, the room I’d made my own but haven’t slept in for a while, and slam the door behind me. I set my laptop on my dresser, then push the blankets down and climb into bed, hugging the stuffed Buc-ee to my chest and trying not to cry.

Here I thought he was different from all my exes. But, nope, he’s the same as all the other guys who tried to change me in some way, shape, or form. And I thought him breaking up with me would hurt the most. I rub a hand over my chest, trying to ease the ache that’s there.

I sob into my pillow. I knew our relationship was too good to be true. But I never dreamed that what would break us wouldn’t be that he didn’t want to be with me forever, it would be that he wanted me to change.

Chapter thirty-five

Wes

My alarm goes off way too early the next morning, but I’m FaceTiming with my cousin, Donna, at nine. I rub a hand down my face. When we planned it for nine, it didn’t seem too early, but today, today it does. I could reschedule, but I’ve been itching to have a face-to-face conversation with her. Hear more about her family, her kids—my third cousins.

At this point, I just want to feel a connection to this long-lost family of mine because we still haven’t moved past the stiff formal emails. And maybe it’s just me feeling that way. I hope it is. Guess we’ll find out today.

I stretch.

I slept like shit.

I didn’t realize how much I’d gotten used to sharing a bed with Hadley and how weird it would feel when she wasn’t in it until last night. I almost got up to go knock on her door to ask if we could talk and figure things out, but I didn’t. I decided it was best to give her a little bit of space. Maybe I was out of line. I don’t know. I only wanted to help.

After taking care of business in the bathroom, I head into the kitchen to make coffee, and my heart sinks when I spot her engagement ring sitting on the counter, a piece of paper under it. I peer at it warily but decide I need caffeine first.

A few minutes later, after having taken a few fortifying sips of coffee, I approach the ring and note on the counter. My heart breaks in two as I read her messy handwriting.

Weston,

After last night, I think it’s best we end our fake engagement. It was probably past time anyway. I can’t be your girlfriend. I thought I could, but I can’t. I can’t be what you want, what you deserve.

I’m sorry if I hurt you. It was never my intention for things to go past the one night at the party.

I hope one day you can forgive me. I’m going to stay at Holt’s until I figure out what’s next for me. I’ll ask him if he can arrange a time to come over and pack up all of my stuff.

I hope you find her one day—the woman you’re meant to love—because you deserve to.

Hadley.

I scrub a hand down my face. I wish I could yell at her, But I love you. I want you and only you. I won’t find her one day because I’ve already found her.

Except Hadley’s not here, and I am alone in life once again. This time, it’s my fault. I don’t know if I’ll be able to fix this with her, and that absolutely shreds my heart.

With shaking hands, I drink my coffee, leaning against the counter and staring at the engagement ring, until it’s time for the call with my cousin. Reluctantly, I make my way into the living room and take a seat on the couch.

It’s not that I don’t want to talk to her. It’s just the timing sucks, and I am not in the mood. But this will be good. At least I hope so.

“Hi, Donna,” I greet the woman on my phone screen when she picks up.

I search for a resemblance to my dad, but there is none. Where my dad and I could have been twins with the same black hair and gray eyes, Donna has curly red hair and blue eyes.

“Hi, Weston. Nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Same.”

“I dug out the family tree my dad made when I was younger.” She holds up a sheet of paper with writing on it that I can’t make out. “I figured I’d scan it and send it to you so you can see your other relatives.”

“Thanks.”

“I searched through all of my grandfather’s things—I have a few boxes in my attic—but I didn’t find much in the way of pictures or mementos of his brother.” Her smile drops. “I’m sorry. I asked my dad if there were any other boxes stashed anywhere, but he said I had all of them.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

She nods, and we lapse into silence. I rack my brain for something to talk about.

“You said you were a teacher? What do you teach?”

“Second grade.”

She tells me about the school she teaches at and how her husband is a mechanic, and I try to listen, try to care, but I find that I don’t.

Don’t get me wrong, Donna is a very nice lady, and she’s been super helpful with answering my questions about my grandfather. But I don’t feel any connection to her. She kind of feels like the librarian at the library. They’re nice, they point you in the right direction, but they’re just doing a job.

“That’s cool,” I tell her when she takes a breath.

Once again, we lapse into silence, and I decide it’s time for this call to end.

“Thank you for all of the information and for answering all of my questions. I appreciate it,” I say.

“Of course.”

“I won’t keep you. Maybe we can chat again soon.”

Maybe. If she calls me, I’ll answer, but I’m not planning to go out of my way to talk to her. I don’t feel much of a connection, and it feels like she’s not that interested in getting to know me any better. She didn’t ask me any questions during our chat. And while that hurts, I get it. She already has a family. She wasn’t expecting to find someone else. And I’m just a cousin. Not like I’m a brother she didn’t know about.

“Of course. If you think of anything else you want to know, just ask, and I’ll try to answer your questions.”

“Thanks. Have a good one.”

“You take care now, Weston.”

I end the call and drop my phone onto the cushion next to me, tipping my head back and staring at the ceiling. So much for finding family. I mean, I found family, but it didn’t have the effect I thought it would. I thought that after all of our emails, this call would be the next step in building a relationship, but it wasn’t.

No girlfriend.

No family.

I am once again alone.

Story of my fucking life.

How is this fair?

I grab the throw pillow next to me, hold it to my face, and scream into it. I drop it into my lap and take a few deep breaths, but I don’t feel any better.

Maybe if I go back to sleep, I’ll wake up, and this will all have been a nightmare. So that’s what I do. Thankfully, past Wes knew not to make plans with the guys for a workout or skate. At least I’m not letting them down today like I let Hadley down.

Rolling onto my side, I grab the pillow Hadley had been using, pulling it to my chest and hugging it close, willing myself to sleep so I don’t have to think about the last twelve or so hours. It takes me a while, but eventually, I drift off into a restless sleep.

The dinging of a text notification wakes me up. Groaning, I let go of Hadley’s pillow and reach for my glasses and my phone, hoping maybe it’s Hadley texting me. But it’s not.

John: Got proofs of the photos from Slumberly. They look great. Forwarded them to your email. You and Hadley need to review and approve. PowerIce finally reached out. Took them long enough. They’re going to send a few sticks for you to try.

I scrub a hand down my face, rereading his message. I should be more excited about another potential endorsement deal, but I’m not really. I’m sure I will be in the future, but right now, I couldn’t care less.

Me: Thanks. I’ll check out the photos and get back to you. Sounds good about PowerIce. I’ll let you know when they get here.

I should probably look at those photos. But I can’t, not yet. Not when mine and Hadley’s breakup is so fresh. Looking at pictures of us happy, kissing, is just going to make me feel worse.

Regardless, I should get up. My stomach growls as I’m climbing out of bed. I can eat. That seems like a simple enough task.

A few minutes later, I’m rummaging first through the fridge and then the pantry for something to eat, but nothing sounds good. What I wouldn’t give for something sweet right about now.

“A trip to the grocery store it is,” I mutter, shuffling into my room to throw on clothes. I grab my keys and wallet and go out to my Jeep.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling into the parking lot at my local Publix. Inside, I wander around the bakery and finally settle on a carrot cake. Ice cream sounds good too, so I make my way to the freezer section.

“This one sounds good,” I mutter, grabbing a carton of chocolate chip cookie dough. “What else?”

I spot the chocolate peanut butter—Hadley’s favorite—and my heart sinks. Giving myself a shake, I opt for strawberry shortcake before making my way to the checkout.

Outside, instead of heading to my car, I go next door to their liquor store. I’m not a big liquor drinker, but today feels like a day to drink a glass of something strong. I decide on a bottle of Singing Pig because I like the name, hopefully it tastes good, and head to the register.

My phone starts ringing as I’m parking back at my apartment building.

“Sorry, buddy. Not in the mood.” I hit the Ignore button on Sebastian’s call before climbing out of my Jeep. I’d turn the whole thing off, but I don’t want to on the off chance that Hunter calls to say Madison’s in labor, or Madison herself calls needing something, or Hadley calls.

“Probably should figure out how to send everyone else to voicemail right away,” I mutter as I wait for the elevator to ascend to my floor.

When I get to my apartment, I put the ice cream away in the freezer for later, pour myself a glass of whiskey, and grab a fork for the carrot cake before bringing the entire box with me to the couch.

I flip on the television and find a random old western to watch—because the last thing I want to do right now is watch a rom-com—and dig into my treats.

Chapter thirty-six

Wes

I’m slumped on the bench at the arena, regretting my life choices of the past few days as I watch the guys scrimmage on the ice. I tapped out after a few minutes when I thought I was going to throw up.

Eating one’s weight in sweets and sleeping on the couch for two days probably wasn’t the best idea. Especially not when one is a professional hockey player.

I guess at least I’m not hungover. I had all of one glass of the whiskey before realizing it didn’t exactly go with the desserts I was eating. So I switched to water. Although this sugar coma lethargy I’m feeling isn’t helping. All because I ate a carrot cake and most of a tub of ice cream. That’s not that bad over the course of two days. Well, it wouldn’t be if I’d eaten anything else. Which I didn’t until this morning when I forced myself to drink a protein smoothie and eat a bowl of oatmeal. I’d hoped they would help. Clearly, they didn’t.

“Earth to Weston. You alright?” Sutton’s voice comes from behind me.

I rub a hand over my stomach. “Too many sweets.”

She raises an eyebrow as she sits down next to me. “Something going on?”

I huff out a breath, dropping my head into my hands. “How long do you have?”

“As long as it takes. Come on, let’s hear it.”

So I tell her what’s been going on with my family, or lack thereof. How the family I’d found isn’t what I thought it would be. I feel as if some of the weight I’ve been carrying around is gone when I finish explaining everything to her.

“Family comes in all shapes and sizes.” She turns to me. “It doesn’t necessarily mean blood. It means the people you choose.”

“Yeah …”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out with your cousin. Sometimes the family we pick is better than the one we share our DNA with.” She sighs, shaking her head, and I wonder if she’s speaking from experience. “Not saying that your cousin is a bad person, but you already have a whole group of brothers.” She gestures around. “The family you were hoping to find in your cousin, you already have it. Maybe this is the family you were meant to have.”

I turn her words over in my head as I watch the guys scrimmage on the ice, the guys I have always considered to be my brothers. Even the ones who’ve retired are like family to me. Their wives and girlfriends I consider my sisters-in-law. Their kids, my nieces and nephews.

She’s right.

Except there’s one person missing who I most certainly want as part of my family. But I don’t know if she wants me anymore. She’s the woman I want to go through life with. Grow old with. Maybe start a family with. I hope I can fix things with her.

“I—” I scrub a hand down my face. “Except I fucked up with Hadley.”

“Oh, you fucked up real good,” Holt says.

I peer over my shoulder at him, arms crossed over his chest, scowling at me.

I put my hands up to cover my face, tensing my whole body. “If you’re going to punch me, get it over with.”

“Relax. I’m not going to punch you.”

“You’re not?” I put my hands down as he comes and sits on the other side of me.

“Do I want to know what’s going on?” Sutton asks.

Before I can fill her in on my and Hadley’s breakup, the other guys skate over. Might as well tell them all at once.

“I have something I need to tell you all.” I study my hands. “It was fake.”

“Fake?” Sutton asks.

“Our engagement.” I hold my breath, waiting for the shit they’re about to give me, but it doesn’t come.

“Oh, we know,” Elias says.

That catches my attention. “You know?” I tilt my head, peering around at them all. Were we that obvious? I thought we did a good job of pretending.

Sebastian shrugs, and the guys exchange a look.

“What? What was that look for?” I point at all of them.

Holt blows out a breath. “They know because we set it up.”

“Come again? How could you set it up? SportsCenter talked about our engagement …” I sputter. Am I dreaming? Is this a nightmare?

Sebastian has the audacity to laugh. “Did you see the SportsCenter clip where they talked about it?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Did you read an article?” Elias interrupts.

“No, but my agent knew.” I run a hand through my hair. Holy shit. How in the hell did they pull this off?

“He owed me a favor. I asked him to go along with the story,” Sebastian says.

John was in on it? For fuck’s sake. Did everyone know except me and Hadley? It didn’t even dawn on me that Sebastian and I share an agent. But why would it?

Elias starts laughing, and I can’t help glaring at him. He holds up his hands as if in surrender, and I turn back to Sebastian, who’s watching me process.

There’s no way. They couldn’t have.

“Except there was a company that wanted both of us to be in their marketing …” I’m grasping at straws, trying to figure out what was real and what was all a ploy.

“They were already interested. When John pitched also including your fiancée in the deal, of course they ate that shit up,” Sebastian explains.

I sputter. What the hell?

“And you?” I point a finger at Holt. “You acted as though it was a bad idea. What the fuck, man?”

He shrugs, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I had to. If I’d been happy about it, Hadley would have known something was up, and she wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

I throw my hands in the air. “I cannot believe this. So was any of it really fake?”

I should be madder, but honestly, how can I be? I mean I won’t tell them that, but it got me and Hadley together, and I’ll never complain about that.

“The part where Hadley told her ex she was engaged and the party were real. That’s how I got the idea,” Holt says.

“Why?” I ask.

“We were tired of you two dancing around each other. Pretending you didn’t like each other,” Holt explains.

I roll my eyes, fighting the smile that wants to break free. “We’re not in middle school anymore. Or high school.”

“I would hope not,” Sebastian says.

“And you,” I whirl around to Sutton. “You knew too?”

“Not at first, but they filled me in after I couldn’t find where SportsCenter was talking about your engagement, regardless of how hard I searched. I tried to find you, but you were already gone for the day. Elias told me what was going on,” she says.

“And the whole ‘date for social media content’?”

“It was a good idea, right? Forced you two to go out on a date.” I narrow my eyes at her. “We did post those pictures to social media. Everyone ate it up like I knew they would.”

“For fuck’s sake. I thought I was the meddler,” I mutter.

They laugh, and I shake my head.

I’ve been bested at my own bullshit. Okay, not really, because this was next-level meddling. But again, that’s not something I’ll be telling them anytime soon. I scowl at each of them in turn to keep up the ruse of being upset.

“Not that it matters now.” I’m back to staring down at my lap, my stomach rolling. And not from all the sugar I’ve consumed in the past few days, but from the fact that I don’t have Hadley.

The past couple of months were for nothing. I’m still alone. Well, not exactly alone—I have the guys, my brothers—but I don’t have my person. And that hurts.

“We did it because we love you,” Elias finally says.

“You both needed a push because otherwise we’d all be old and gray before you two decided to act on your feelings,” Holt adds.

“And we wanted you to be happy. Together,” Sebastian says.

“But now what? It didn’t end well. She broke up with me. I thought it was a nice gesture to try to help her get a job, and clearly, I don’t know how to read the room. Or her.” I pull on the collar of my shirt.

Holt gives me a pointed look. “She thinks you don’t like it that she doesn’t have a steady job. That you’re trying to change her. Her words, not mine. Apparently, what all of her other exes did.” He frowns, muttering something that sounds like, I want to have words with all of them, but I can’t exactly be sure.

“I wasn’t. I’m not. I don’t care if she never has a job. I told her that. I just didn’t want to see her stressed about finding one. Plus, she’s an amazing photographer. She’d have gotten the job without me if she’d applied for it. Right, Sutton?”

“She’s definitely talented,” Sutton agrees. “Had she applied, we would have interviewed her, even if you hadn’t recommended her.” She turns to Holt. “And not because you’re her brother.”

He nods.

“That’s all fine and great, but how do I fix this? Prove to her I’m all in.” Because even though it started as fake, I really am all in.

“You need a grand gesture,” Elias says.

“But what?” I rack my brain for ideas of what I can do to prove that I love her, because I most definitely do, and that I don’t want to change her. I want her exactly the way she is.

“I’ve got it.” I hold up a finger. “I’ll get her name tattooed on my chest.” I smack a hand on the spot.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Mate, that’s so overdone.”

“It’s a bit … corny,” Elias agrees.

“But it’s so him,” Holt says, turning to me. “While I agree it is a bit corny and overdone, it’s also romantic as fuck and something you would do.”

“Come on, we can think of something better,” Elias says, scratching his chin and glancing around. “Any ideas, Sutton?”

“I am the least romantic person ever, so no, I don’t have any ideas.”

“But what if a guy wanted to get back into your good graces? What would he have to do?” Elias’s gaze cuts to Sebastian for a second before focusing back on Sutton.

“Nope, that’s it.” I hold up a hand before she can answer the question. “Tattoo it is. Then I’m going to go to your house, Holt, so don’t be surprised, with a boom box and stand outside her window and serenade her with a love song.”

Holt chuckles. “Do you even have a boom box?”

“Shit, no.” I run a hand through my hair. “I know, I’ll make some signs confessing my love for her and apologizing, and I’ll show up at the door. Like in Love Actually.”

“That’s so cheesy it might actually work. She loves that movie,” Holt says.

“Then when she forgives me, because I know she will.” Sebastian snorts, but I ignore him. I’m on a roll. “I’ll get down on one knee and ask her to marry me, for real.”

“Don’t you think that’s rushing it?” Sebastian asks.

I shake my head. “When you know, you know. She’s it for me.”

“You know her best, and if you think that’s going to work …” Elias says.

“I gotta go.” I stand, grab my gear, and practically sprint down the hallway toward the locker rooms.

I’m on a mission to win my woman back. Make her mine for real.

Chapter thirty-seven

Hadley

“It’s me. Can I come in?” Becca’s voice comes from the other side of the door to my room at her and Holt’s house, where I’ve been holed up for the past I don’t even know how many days at this point. More than one but less than five. I think.

I throw the blanket off my head. “Yeah.”

“I come bearing food.” She holds out a tray.

“I’m not—” I start to say until I see the tacos, chips, and guacamole. The familiar wrapper from Locos Tacos makes my heart sink. Not enough to decline the food though. “I could probably eat.”

She walks over to the bed while I sit up and adjust the pillows behind me and sets the tray down, wrinkling her nose.

“I love you, Hads. But after you eat, you need to shower.”

I nod before taking a bite of a taco. She smooths the blanket down on the edge of the bed before sitting and turning to face me. I focus on the food in front of me, my first proper meal since I got here.

“Thanks for the tacos.”

“Wes sent them,” she says quietly.

“Oh,” is all I can manage as I pick at the chips, dipping a broken one into the guac before plopping it into my mouth.

“Holt said he wasn’t feeling good when he saw him at the arena earlier. Said Wes had to leave the ice because he was nauseous.”

“That sucks.”

We may have broken up, but that doesn’t mean I want him to be sick. I don’t wish him any harm. Quite the opposite. I want him to find his happiness.

“I’m not one to pry, usually, but I’m worried about you.”

I take another bite of my taco, using the time while I chew to figure out what to say.

“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t want to worry you or my brother. I probably should get a flight home to Ontario.”

Even though I don’t want to leave Florida. I’m sure my parents would be happy to have me there, but it doesn’t feel like it’s my home anymore. This house doesn’t feel like home either, if I’m being honest. There’s only one place that feels like home, but I don’t live there anymore. So I guess I’m homeless.

She leans forward, patting my leg through the blanket. “That isn’t what I said. You don’t have to go. I hate seeing you like this. Holt does too. He wanted to come up here and talk to you himself, but I told him I’d handle it. I love the man, but I’m not sure how his bedside manner would be right now.”

I blink back tears. I’m so glad my brother has her. I’m so glad I have her.

“Things got real between me and Wes. Then shit hit the fan, and we broke up.” I run a hand down my face and take a ragged breath, trying to hold it together. “I fell in love with him. I don’t know when or how it happened, but it did, and now it’s over. I’m not sure if he loved me.” My voice cracks.

I shake my head because how do I tell her the fears buried deep inside me? That I’ll end up alone one day because everyone will leave me. Holt has Becca and Hazel now. I’m happy for him, but he doesn’t need me, not the way he did when Hazel first came into his life. And Callie, she’ll find someone to love, she’ll start a family, and I’ll be the long-forgotten friend. I thought maybe Wes could be my person, but in the end, I wasn’t good enough for him. I’m never good enough for anyone long-term.

I cover my face with my hands as the tears stream down my cheeks. I thought I was all cried out, but apparently not.

The bed shifts, I feel the tray being moved, and then Becca is wrapping her arms around me.

“Oh, Hadley.” She rubs my back as I continue to sob. “You’re wrong. You’re so wrong.”

“What do you mean?” I hiccup.

“That man loves you. He’s infatuated with you. I could see it the first time I saw the two of you together. That’s why we decided to push you together. Maybe we shouldn’t have meddled, but …”

I pull away, staring at her. “You did what now?”

“There was no SportsCenter leak about Wes being engaged. We made it up …”

“But his agent …” I sputter.

“He was in on it too.”

“The endorsement deal that wanted us both?”

She shakes her head. “They already wanted Wes. His agent suggested you be part of it too, and they said yes. They think you’re engaged.”

“Does Wes know, or was he in on it too?” I cross my arms, leaning back against the bed. I can’t believe they made this shit up.

Becca chuckles. “No, he wasn’t in on it. He had no idea.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep,” she says, popping the p. “But he does know now, because the guys told him.”

I snort. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I bet Wes loved hearing that.”

“Pretty sure his exact words were, ‘For fuck’s sake. And I thought I was the meddler.’”

She grabs the tissue box off my nightstand and hands it to me. I wipe my eyes and blow my nose.

“I still don’t know if we were meant to be. He told me one thing—he was fine with me not having a job and figuring out how I wanted to pursue photography—and then the next thing I know, he’s getting me a job.” I clutch the tissues in my hand. “I clearly wasn’t good enough for him the way I was …”

She levels me a look, one I’m pretty sure she learned from my brother. “I love you, Hadley, like a sister.” She pauses, and I nod. “But I think you overreacted.” I rear back, wanting to tell her why she’s wrong, but she keeps talking. “Sometimes, people are simply trying to help.”

My shoulders sag, and I tell her what I told Wes about Henry. She listens patiently and then takes my hand.

“Wes believes in you. He sent a group text to everyone asking if anyone had any leads he could pass on to you.”

My mouth falls open. I never thought anyone would care about my passion for photography enough to do something like that. I mean, yes, Holt and my parents encourage me, but they’re my family. That’s what they’re supposed to do. Wes, he’s not. He didn’t have to do what he did. How did I not know any of this? Why did he not tell me? She pats my hand.

“I know you’re scared. I get it. I was too. But, sometimes, you just have to let them love you.”

I blink back tears. “What if I screwed this up beyond repair?”

“I have it on good authority that he’s as much of a wreck as you are. I think it’s fixable. If that’s what you want.”

“I do. But what am I going to do about my job situation? I can’t take the job with the Storm now, can I? After I made such a big deal about it. I’ll seem like the world’s biggest hypocrite.”

“You’re allowed to change your mind. No one’s going to hold it against you. Take the job. Don’t take the job. Start your own business. Take time off to figure out what you want to do. Whatever you do, we’ll support you.”

Wes suggested starting my own business too. I brushed it off because I figured he was just trying to hype me up, but now here’s a second person who believes I could do it. And it is something I wanted to do in the future when I had more years of photography experience under my belt. But maybe I don’t need to wait.

“Thanks. I guess I have a lot to think about.”

“You do. But maybe finish eating and take a shower first?”

I bark out a laugh. “Sounds like a plan.”

“It’s going to be okay. Your family is here to support you.”

A knot forms in my stomach at the way she says family. It hits me like a gut punch that I abandoned Wes.

I barely register her telling me to come downstairs later if I feel up to it. I think I agree, but I don’t know for sure.

Once she’s gone, I finish eating my food, barely tasting any of it, my stomach too torn up about how terrible I was to Wes.

“How do I fix this? Will he really forgive me?” I mumble twenty minutes later while I’m standing under the hot water in the shower.

I close my eyes, and a montage of our relationship plays out in my head. All the times he called me Hadley Jane. Teased me. Made me laugh. Smile. How he planned dates he knew I’d enjoy. Wooed me, one gesture at a time. One day at a time.

How could I be so stupid to think he’d have anything except good intentions when he talked to Sutton about the job? He would never try to change me. He didn’t even complain when I left my stuff everywhere. He didn’t so much as flinch when I blew in like the tornado he called me. I start to cry again. I have to figure out how to fix this. But first, I should probably call Sutton about the job.

I shut off the water, grab a towel, and step out so I can dry off and get dressed.

A little while later, I sit cross-legged on my freshly made bed and grab my phone to call Sutton. It starts ringing in my hand. Sutton’s calling. That’s weird.

“Hi,” I rasp. I clear my throat. “Sorry. Hi, Sutton.”

“Hey, Hadley.”

“What’s up?”

“I wanted to check in and make sure you’re alright. I know you’re with Holt and Becca, but I was still worried.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry if my offering to hire you when Wes came to talk to me caused all of this. I was planning to call you about the job anyway, but he showed up at the right time asking questions.”

Something about that makes me feel even worse. Even though I know that wasn’t her intention.

“It’s okay. I was just getting ready to call you about it actually.”

“Okay, well, I’m all ears.”

“I don’t think I can accept.”

“Awww, bum—”

“I can’t accept the permanent role, but I’d be happy to come on temporarily until you find someone.”

“Yeah?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Of course.” She clears her throat. “Technically, you do still have to apply and interview with me and the head of marketing, but it would just be a formality.”

“I understand.”

We chat for a few minutes, setting up a time for me to come in next week for the interview, and she tells me she’ll email me the link for the application. After she apologizes again, even though I tell her it’s fine, we hang up.

I contemplate staying holed up in my room, but I know I should go socialize, see my family. Voices and laughter ring out from the living room, so I head that way.

“Hey, guys.” I peek into the room to see my brother and Becca on the floor with Hazel, who is having the time of her life as she crawls around, giggling and smiling.

“Hey, sis,” Holt says, getting to his feet and walking over to me. “Hug?” He holds out his arms, and I step into them. “You alright?” he asks against my hair.

“I think I will be. If I can figure out how to make it up to Wes.”

He lets go of me, and I take a step back. “I don’t think there’s anything to make up. You two just need to talk to each other.”

I toy with the hem of my shirt. “I should do something to show him that I’m all in when it comes to us.”

“Just don’t get a tattoo.”

“Why would I do that?” I ask, tilting my head and studying my brother.

“Apparently they’re a big romantic gesture.”

“Right.”

He squeezes my shoulder. “If you need help with whatever you’re planning, let me know.”

“Thanks.”

He settles back down on the floor with Hazel and Becca, and I take a seat next to him. Hazel’s giggles are infectious, and within a few minutes, I find myself smiling. She reaches for me, her stuffed dog in her hand.

An idea forms in my mind. An idea that, if things don’t work out with me and Wes, could one hundred percent backfire on me.

But I suppose that’s what grand gestures are all about—taking a risk.

It’ll take a little while to figure out all the details, but I’m confident I can get it worked out.

I’m sad that means I’ll have to wait to talk to him. I just want to fix things between us. But maybe it’s for the best. We can both take time to make sure our feelings really are as strong as they feel right now.

Chapter thirty-eight

Hadley

“Hadley,” Holt hollers.

I frown, climbing off my bed, my heart hammering in my chest. It’s not normal for him to yell for me. Normally, he’d come up here or text me.

“What’s up?” I pad to the top of the staircase.

“Where’s your phone?”

“I …” I can’t remember when and where I had it last.

“Doesn’t matter.” He waves the question away. “Madison’s in labor.”

“Are you and Becca going to the hospital? I can watch Hazel.”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re coming with us. We’re going to drop Hazel at Caleb’s. Jenna’s sister is in town and volunteered to watch the kids.”

“Alright.” I glance down at my tattered leggings and my oversized shirt with holes in the hem. “Let me change.”

“Be quick.”

“Oh, you mean I don’t have time to take a shower and do my hair?” I sass.

“Hadley Jane.”

“I’m kidding,” I tell him over my shoulder as I hurry into my room.

Forty minutes later, we’re stepping into the lobby of the hospital.

“We need to go to Labor and Delivery on the third floor,” Holt says, staring down at his phone.

“Don’t we need to check in?” Becca asks as he leads us past the security desk and toward the bank of elevators.

“Caleb said we check in up there,” he tells her as the elevator doors open and we step inside.

The ride to the third floor is quiet and fairly quick, and soon, we’re getting off. I peer around the bright, sterile hallway.

“This way.” I point toward the sign guiding us to Labor and Delivery.

Caleb comes our way as we’re approaching the nurses’ station.

“They’re with us,” Caleb tells the nurse at the desk.

She hands us name tags with “Rhodes” and today’s date printed on them and explains that’s how they keep track of the people on the floor. She tells us to go on ahead to the waiting room, and we follow Caleb.

“They put us in one of their private waiting rooms. Lounge really. I think Coach pulled some strings,” Caleb says as he opens the door and we go inside.

The room is packed. There are only a few empty seats.

Elias and Sebastian are deep in conversation in one corner. Madison’s aunt and her husband are chatting on one of the two couches off to one side. Jenna and Sutton are sitting on the other sofa, Ansley perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of them. Jake is pacing the room, staring down at his phone, a to-go cup in his hand.

“Look who I found,” Caleb announces, and everyone turns our way.

“Any news?” Jake asks.

Caleb shakes his head. “Just that everything is going well, but slow. Sounds like it could be a few hours at least. Hunter told the nurse to tell us to go home, but I told her no way in hell.”

Everyone laughs.

Caleb takes the free chair next to Elias and Sebastian, while Holt and Becca claim two of the chairs along the other wall. Becca pulls out an e-reader from her purse, and Holt closes his eyes, leaning back and resting a hand on Becca’s thigh. I can’t help the small smile that graces my lips as I watch them. Everyone’s conversations continue, and I walk over to Sutton, Jenna, and Ansley.

“Room for one more?”

Ansley scoots over and pats the coffee table next to her. I peer at it warily. It seems as though it’s barely held together.

“Not sure we should be sitting on that.”

She nods, standing up, and we grab the last two empty chairs from the other corner of the room and bring them over. The conversation picks back up, but I barely pay attention. Why isn’t Wes here? I would have thought he’d have been one of the first people to arrive. Did something happen to him? Is he okay? No, I’m just being silly. He’ll be here eventually.

The guys wouldn’t be so relaxed if there was something wrong with Wes. Plus, I know I would have heard about it from my brother. I try to listen to what Ansley is saying, but it’s hard to focus.

The door to the lounge squeaks open behind me, and I know that it’s Wes who’s walked in. I can feel his presence. I turn around, and my heart sinks when I see him. He looks the way I feel—dark circles around his eyes, a grim expression on his face, a far cry from his usual happy demeanor.

Our gazes lock, and I hold my breath, wondering what he’s going to do. Ignore me? Be cordial? We need to talk, but I’m not sure that a hospital waiting room filled with most of our closest friends and his coach is exactly the best place.

“This is not a good idea,” I mutter as he strides toward me.

Ansley elbows me and leans closer. “Go talk to him.”

“I don’t know …” I hiss under my breath.

“Go.” Sutton tips her chin toward Wes. “Stop being stubborn and talk to him.” She gives me a look that I can’t argue with. She’s going to be a great mom one day, that is, if she decides to have kids.

With a resigned sigh, I rise to my feet and move toward him. I can feel everyone watching us. I was not prepared for this. I still need another week until I can put my grand plan in place. I didn’t account for Madison going into labor and seeing him here.

“Maybe we should do this outside,” I whisper when we’re standing in front of each other, barely a foot apart.

I slide my hands into the pockets of my shorts, rocking back on my heels so as not to reach for him out of habit.

He shakes his head, clearing his throat and glancing around.

“We’re really doing this here?”

“We are,” he says, and I realize I asked my question out loud. “I’m sorry, Hadley. I really fucked up.”

“No, you didn’t, Wes. I did. I’m—”

He holds up a hand. “Let me finish.”

I swallow, gesturing for him to continue.

“I was only trying to help with the job situation, but in hindsight, I realize I shouldn’t have interfered. Especially after you told me you wanted to figure it out for yourself.” I go to tell him that I understand now why he did it, but he continues talking. “Hadley Jane Abbott, I love you.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I think I’ve loved you since the day I saw you in that red bikini at the beach a few years ago.”

“Wes,” I whisper, blinking back tears.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the only woman I want.” He sinks down to one knee, and I gasp as he pulls his mom’s ring from his pocket and holds it out to me.

“Weston,” I murmur, glancing around to see everyone’s attention on us.

“Be quiet, tornado.” Laughter rings out around us. “Hadley Jane Abbott, will you marry me? I know we haven’t been dating for long. I know our engagement started off as fake, but let’s make it real. We can have a long engagement if you want. Just say you’ll be mine forever.”

“Wes, I should be the one apologizing. It’s me who screwed up.”

“Yes or no, tornado. And if it helps any, I got your initials tattooed right here.” He puts a hand on his chest. “Even though the guys told me it was a corny idea, I think it’s romantic, so I did it anyway.”

I snort.

Now Holt’s comment from the other day makes a lot more sense.

I peer down at him—the man who captured my heart one small moment at a time, the man who I now realize was the one I was waiting for all along, the reason none of my other relationships lasted.

It was all to bring me here.

To this moment.

To him.

Chapter thirty-nine

Wes

I stare up at the woman I love, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, and hold my breath, hoping she feels the same way about me. That she says yes to my proposal. I know it’s crazy. It’s fast.

But it’s us.

At first, I thought about just asking her to move in with me, but that didn’t feel like enough. I was on my way over to Holt’s house when I got the call from Caleb, hence why the ring was in my pocket. I wasn’t going to do this in front of everyone, but I couldn’t wait. I want her to be mine again. Now.

“This is crazy,” she mutters. “But, yes, I’ll marry you, you silly man.”

I let out a sigh of relief, slipping the ring back onto her finger where it belongs before standing up, sweeping her into my arms, and kissing the shit out of her to cheers and applause.

“I love you too, Weston A. Reynolds,” she murmurs against my lips, and I have to blink the tears away.

How I wish my parents and Uncle Rob were here to see this. But I know they’re all smiling down on me, and part of me thinks that maybe they sent her to me. That Mom knew I needed someone like Hadley in my life.

She pats my chest when we break our kiss.

“I have something to tell you.” She chews on her bottom lip. “It’s kind of a big commitment though.”

My heart hammers in my chest.

“I put a deposit down on a German Shepherd puppy. She’ll be ready to come home in a week and a half.”

“A puppy?” I repeat, setting her down.

She wrings her hands, shifting on her feet. “I know it’s a big commitment, but you said you’d always wanted a dog, and I thought …” She sighs, shaking her head. “It was a stupid idea.”

I grip her hip with one hand and tilt her chin up with the other so she’ll look at me. “It’s not stupid. I’ve always wanted a dog, you know that. Now we’ll have to buy a house so she has a big backyard to play in.”

“Does that mean we’re splitting custody?”

“Hell, no. It means you’re moving in with me.”

She laughs. Before I can tell her I’m not joking, Holt clears his throat, and we turn to him.

“Congratulations, you two.”

“Thank you,” I say as he pulls his sister and then me into a hug.

“I want in on this,” Becca says, opening her arms to Hadley.

For a few minutes, it’s a blur of bodies as the rest of the group comes over and congratulates us. After everyone’s had their fill of hugs and pats on the back, I turn to my fiancée, holding out a hand.

“Want to go get a cup of coffee or a snack?” I rub my stomach. “Wonder what kind of baked goods they have.”

She links her fingers with mine. “Come on, let’s go, fiancé.”

“Say it again.”

“Let’s go?”

“No, the other part.”

“Fiancé?”

I don’t know that I’ll ever tire of hearing her say that. Wait, I take that back, I can’t wait to hear her call me her husband. I give her a quick peck on the cheek before leading her out of the room and toward the elevators so we can go down to the cafeteria.

“So,” she says, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “I’m not going to take the job with the Storm.”

“I figured as much.”

“I told Sutton I’d fill in for a few months until they can hire someone permanent, but I think I want to start my own business. Maybe that’s a silly decision since the job with the Storm would be steady income …”

I step into her space, dipping down so I can meet her eyes. “It’s not silly if that’s where your heart is. I’ll support whatever you want to do. I’ve told you that before, and I really do mean it. And anything I can do, let me know, because this time, I promise not to meddle.”

She leans closer and kisses me. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Hadley. Anything for you.”

“Same, Weston. Same. It’s you and me against the world now. Are you ready for that?”

I grin, my heart feeling like it’s swelling to twice its normal size at her words. “Yes. Always.”

The elevator door slides open, and we walk out hand in hand. I barely register the snacks we find in the cafeteria or what we bring back upstairs for everyone else, too excited for the future with Hadley.

We spend the next few hours relaxing with our friends, as best we can, while we wait for news from Hunter and Madison. I stay glued to Hadley’s side, so much so that she has to shoo me away when I go to follow her into the bathroom. I’m obsessed, what can I say?

Eventually, Hunter comes bursting through the waiting room door with the biggest smile on his face I’ve ever seen. The room instantly goes quiet.

“Tate Jake Rhodes is here. Mom and baby are doing well,” he says.

I glance over at Coach just in time to see him wiping tears from his eyes. He and Madison had a rocky start when he found out about her a few years ago, so for them to use his name as their son’s middle name says a lot about the relationship they all have now.

We congratulate Hunter with hugs and handshakes. He can’t stop grinning, and it makes me happy to see my friend so excited.

“Mads is resting; she’s exhausted, so we’re going to limit visitors to just Jake and Aunt Judy. I hope you all understand. But I’ll check in when we get home, hopefully tomorrow afternoon, and maybe we can stagger visits over the next few days.”

“We completely understand if you want us to hold off a few weeks,” Holt says, glancing around at all of us.

I nod in agreement, even though I really want to meet my nephew. But I do understand they might want time alone without all of us traipsing through their house and possibly bringing germs in.

“We’ll let you know,” Hunter says. “I should get back.”

“Before you go, I stopped by the house on our way here and filled up your freezer,” Madison’s aunt says.

“Let us know if we can send you meals or coffee. Whatever you guys need,” Caleb adds.

“Thank you,” Hunter says before turning and walking away.

“So.” I pull Hadley against my chest. “What do you say we go home and celebrate our engagement?” I bounce my eyebrows at her.

She chuckles, patting my chest. “I should probably go back to Holt’s and pack my stuff up first.”

“Tomorrow.” I lean down and kiss her. “We can do all of the responsible, adult things tomorrow, but tonight, let’s celebrate.”

“I like that idea.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

My heart soars. I will never get tired of hearing her say those words to me—or saying them to her.

Epilogue

A Year Later—Hadley

“What are you doing?” I giggle when Wes scoops me into his arms.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He fumbles with the key to our hotel room. “I’m carrying you across the threshold.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit old-fashioned?”

He growls, finally getting the door open, and strides inside. “I don’t care, wife.”

My stomach swoops at the word wife, and I glance at the wedding band on my finger. I didn’t actually think anything would change between us when we got married today in front of our friends and family. We were already living together with Daisy, our puppy, and it’s only a piece of paper. But hearing the Justice of the Peace pronounce us husband and wife, knowing he was mine and I was his forever, well, that felt monumental.

And now, him calling me his wife totally does something to me.

He sets me on my feet and steps back, a hungry look in his eyes as he yanks his tie off and tosses it onto the chair. His jacket is next to go. He tugs his shirt out of his pants and starts to unbutton it as he steps closer to where I’m standing, frozen as I watch the love of my life, my husband, get undressed.

“How quickly can you get your dress off?” he asks, his voice low as his gaze tracks over me. “Or better yet …” He reaches for me.

“Don’t you dare, Weston A. Reynolds.” I put a hand to my chest, glaring at him.

He quirks a brow. “Why not, Hadley Jane Reynolds?” A shiver racks through my body. “When are you ever going to wear it again? I need you naked.”

“I like this dress. Maybe I’ll get it shortened into a cocktail dress and dyed a different color.” Because no one needs an off-white cocktail dress.

“Fine.” He waves a hand at me. “Have it your way.”

I spin around. “You’ll have to unbutton me.” I wiggle my ass. He chuckles, spanking it lightly, and my need for him only intensifies.

With deft fingers, he undoes the buttons, and I pull my arms out of my sleeves, peeking over my shoulder as I let the dress fall at my feet. His nostrils flare, his eyes widening as he takes in my undergarments, underwear embroidered with Mrs. Reynolds. Before I can ask him if he likes it, he’s stepping into my space and spinning me around to face him, my hands coming to rest on his chest.

“I love you, Mrs. Hadley Jane Reynolds.” His voice is low and husky.

“I love you too, husband.”

He crashes his lips to mine, and we get lost in each other. Eventually, he pulls away from me, and I can’t help whining.

“Off.” He points at my lingerie. “On the bed.”

I strip off the rest of my clothes as he hastily pulls off his shoes and socks and gets undressed, abandoning his clothes on the floor.

I lie on my back, opening my legs for him.

“You’re fucking beautiful, wife.”

He gets onto the bed, hovering over me, and intertwines his hands with mine.

“You’re not so bad yourself, husband. Now are you going to fuck me, or am I going to have to take charge here?”

He leans down and kisses me before pulling back to notch himself at my entrance. With a hiss, he slams into me, and my eyes flutter closed, the feeling of an impending orgasm already starting.

“Look at me, tornado,” he mutters as he pulls out and slams back into me.

I do as he asks, sucking in a breath as he pounds into me.

“I’m so close.”

“Touch yourself.”

He captures one of my nipples between his teeth and bites down gently. I groan, my free hand going to my clit. A few more thrusts from him, and I’m coming.

“All mine. Forever,” he husks out, staring at me.

“Yours,” I agree.

He pistons his hips a few more times before he’s yelling out his release. He slumps on top of me, and I wrap my arms around him, loving the feel of his weight on me. Loving him.

Eventually, he rolls off me, goes into the bathroom, and brings back a washcloth for me.

“I should probably go to the bathroom,” I say, getting to my feet after he’s cleaned me up.

When I open the door a few minutes later, he’s standing there waiting for me, his dick half hard. I cock an eyebrow at him, my gaze bouncing between his face and his dick that’s getting harder by the second.

“Ready for a second round?”

He steps into my personal space and wraps his arms around me. “I was waiting for you to come out to ask if you wanted to take a shower with me, but then I saw you naked, and I had other ideas.”

“A shower is good. I need to wash all this makeup off, and the products out of my hair.”

He gives me a squeeze before letting me go, then steps around me and into the bathroom so he can turn on the water in the shower.

I can’t wipe the smile off my face, and it’s not just because of the sex we just had. No, it’s because of him.

My husband.

The love of my life.

I’m excited to find out what the rest of our life together will be like.

I know whatever comes our way and whatever life has in store for us, it’ll be great because we’re together.

Thank you so much for reading Wes and Hadley’s story. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a rating/review on Amazon and/or Goodreads or Storygraph.

Want more of the Storm? Read Line Change, Sebastian & Sutton's book. Turn the page to read chapter one.

Want more of Wes and Hadley? Click here or scan the QR code below for a link to a bonus scene that takes place after chapter 39 but before the epilogue.

Line Change: Chapter One

Sebastian

I’m walking down the hallway where the Storm’s marketing and public relations offices are after a meeting with the social media team about content they want me to be part of. I’d much rather they chose another guy to be in their videos, because I always feel silly being part of their skits or answering whatever question they come up with. It’s always something random like, “Would you rather fight a hundred duck-sized horses or one horse-sized duck?” Neither. I’d want to fight neither. But I can’t say that.

Then there’s the comments on the videos—people discussing my looks, my British accent, if I’m single or taken, just all the things. I hate it.

If I’m going to be talked about online, I’d rather it be for my hockey playing skills or how much I contribute to the team. But I grin and do as I’m asked, which includes taking part in these skits next week.

I’m hoping doing them means I’ll be excused from future social media content, at least for the rest of the season.

I stifle a yawn. It’s been a long day filled with morning practice, video review with the rest of the defensemen, team meetings, and then this meeting. I’m ready to get home, eat dinner, and probably pass out in bed. And people think being a professional athlete is glamorous. It’s not. Well, maybe for the younger guys, but since turning thirty, two years ago, I’ve found that each season it becomes harder and harder to recover from games, hits, and injuries. I take all the downtime and rest I can get. Especially since it’s January and we’re halfway through the season.

As I’m about to turn the corner by the elevators, I hear the unmistakable sound of someone crying. I pause, trying to figure out where it’s coming from because it’s after five, and pretty much everyone is gone already since we don’t have a game tonight.

That’s when I notice the light is on in the PR and marketing director’s office. Long strides carry me to the entrance of her office, to the woman I’ve pined over basically since I joined the team and met her at the beginning of last season. My eyes widen at the sight of her hunched over her desk, shoulders shaking.

“Sutton, love. What’s wrong?” My legs eat up the distance until I’m standing next to her desk. When she doesn’t respond, I kneel down. “Love, you’re going to have to talk to me so I can help you.”

She lifts her head, green eyes rimmed with red. “Go away. Please.” The last word comes out in a whisper.

“No can do. You’re upset.” I’m not saying this because she’s the woman I have feelings for, but because I cannot, in good conscience, leave without finding out what’s going on, without trying to help.

“Please,” she repeats, swiping at the tears running down her cheeks.

“No.” I pull the guest chair around the desk and take a seat next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m homeless.” She begins crying again, and my heart cracks.

It takes everything in me not to gather her into my arms. But I can’t. We’re not together. She’s turned me down many times, much to my chagrin. Instead, I clench my fists at my side, hoping that maybe I misunderstood her.

“Come again, love.”

“I don’t have a home. The condo above me, their bathroom flooded last night. It was a mess. I was getting ready for bed, and all of a sudden there was this loud bang. The ceiling above my tub was gushing water. Thankfully, they were able to shut the water off, but the ceiling is ruined in my bathroom. My shower isn’t usable,” she rambles out between sobs.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” She hiccups a sob. “My landlord came out this morning to take a look at it and put in a claim with his insurance. Even I could tell it won’t be a quick fix. He thinks they’ll need to gut the bathroom to dry it out first. But nothing can be done until upstairs fixes whatever is leaking. And of course wait for the insurance company to do their thing. So here I am. Homeless. What a great fucking way to start the new year.” She shakes her head, pushing the strands of light brown hair that have come free of her bun out of her face.

“Can you stay with Ansley?” I know she and Ansley, the team’s rink side reporter, are good friends.

She blows out a breath. “Ans lives in a studio apartment, so she’s out. I can’t exactly ask Becca or Hadley either. I’m not going to encroach on either of them. They barely get to see their partners with y’all’s schedule. I’m not going to make it worse.”

Becca, our team’s physical therapist, is dating and lives with our goalie Holt, one of my friends, and his almost year-and-a-half-old daughter, Hazel. And Hadley is engaged to my usual defense partner, Wes.

So the safe options, a.k.a. the women she’s friends with who work for or are associated with the team, are out.

“You can stay with me.” The words are out before I can stop them, not that I want to. I’ve got plenty of room in my three-bedroom condo. I’ll have to do something about not having an actual guest bed, but she can sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll take the couch or the floor. Hell, I don’t care. I’ll buy a bedroom set for my guest room in the morning. I’ve been meaning to, now I have a reason.

She lifts her head up. “I can’t do that. We’re talking months, not a few days or a couple of weeks.”

“It’s fine. I’m gone a lot anyway. You’ll have the place to yourself.”

“It’s too much.”

It’s not enough.

“If it’ll make you feel better, how about just for tonight?” Although I vow to try to convince her to stay longer, for however long she needs to. “I’ll help you figure out a more permanent solution tomorrow.” Or you could stay with me.

“I’ll get a hotel for a few nights. My landlord said he was going to try to find me a temporary place. I’m sure my renter’s insurance will reimburse me for a hotel. If not, it’ll be fine. I have savings.”

“Stay with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out.

My mouth falls open.

Bollocks.

Bloody hell.

Guess I’ve lost my chance with her. She’s with someone else now. She’s having another man’s child. But why isn’t he here with her? Where is he? Before I can ask the question, she laughs, a manic sound, and my chest tightens.

“I know, right. This week couldn’t get any worse. The doctor’s office called earlier with the results of my blood test, confirming what the home pregnancy tests I took earlier this week said—that I am indeed pregnant. Around eight weeks.” She cringes. “Then my apartment floods.”

“And the father?” I tip my chin toward her stomach.

She hangs her head. “It was a one-night stand. I don’t do one-night stands. The one time I wanted to have a little fun, blow off some steam, and have an orgasm given to me by someone else, which he couldn’t deliver by the way.” Fucker got her pregnant and couldn’t even satisfy her? If she was mine, she’d have all the orgasms she wanted. But she’s not mine. “No orgasms, but I got pregnant.” She sighs. “All I know is his first name, and he was in town for his brother’s wedding.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, Sutton.”

She waves me away. “It’s fine. I’m dealing with it.”

I raise an eyebrow.

She drops a hand to her stomach. “That sounded like I’m getting an abortion. I thought about it right after I took the first pregnancy test. I did. But I quickly realized it wasn’t the option for me. I thought about adoption too, and that didn’t feel right either. The minute the test showed those two pink lines, something inside me changed, and I love this little bean. So single mom life it is.” She barks out a laugh. “There goes my chances of finding my Mr. Right. Because when will I have time to date?”

I want to yell You don’t have to date anyone but me. I’ll take care of you and your baby. But I don’t say that. I can’t. Not appropriate right now. Right now, I need to be there for her as a friend.

I shove all my feelings aside. She doesn’t need that from me now. Besides, she told me last season she wasn’t interested in dating me, and although it broke my heart to hear her say no, I respect her so I stopped asking her out. Doesn’t mean my crush magically went away, because it didn’t. A small part of me is hoping that maybe she’ll change her mind. And even if she doesn’t, I’m not going to stop showing up for her, stop showing her I care about her even if we can only be friends.

“Well, even more reason for you to come home with me.”

“I can’t do that to you, Sebastian.”

“You’re not doing anything to me. I’m offering. In fact, I’m insisting.”

“Okay. Thank you,” she whispers. “But how do you feel about cats?”

“They’re fine. I guess.” I shrug. “We always had a few wandering around the farm when I was growing up. They keep the rodents away.”

She points to the corner of her office. “Well, I have two, and they’re indoor cats.” That’s when I notice the pet carrier sitting in the corner next to a bag of who knows what. “Now I’m going to be the crazy cat lady single mom. Great. Wonderful.” Her shoulders slump, and she buries her face in her hands.

My heart cracks even more because, bloody hell, the way she says those words wrecks me. My desire to take care of her—them—is growing by the second.

Because they are mine.

And I fucking protect and take care of what’s mine. But now is not the time for me to voice those crazy caveman thoughts, because we are friends. I shouldn’t be having those thoughts about my friend.

“Hey, now. Don’t talk about yourself that way.” I reach over and rub her arm. “How about we get you and your cats to my place and get you fed. I bet the baby is hungry.” My gaze drifts down to her stomach, and I swallow down the emotions.

She nods, getting up and going over to the closet. She pulls out a suitcase before grabbing the cat carrier and her laptop bag and purse.

“Woah. Let me take something.” I rush over to her and relieve her of the suitcase and laptop bag, leaving her to handle the cats and her purse. “Ready?” I ask, moving toward the door.

“Yeah.” She follows me silently out of her office and to the elevators.

“How about you drive with me? Your car will be safe here for tonight. I’ll let the guard shack know what’s going on,” I say as we step inside the elevator.

She huffs out a breath. “I’m such a mess. How am I going to figure all of this out? I’m going to be a mom to a tiny human being who is going to need me, going to rely on me—”

“You don’t have to do it all yourself. You’ve got me, and I know the ladies will be there for you too, which means you’ll also have the guys.”

She fiddles with the ring on her thumb. “I know. I …” She stares at the ground. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” The doors slide open, and I beckon her through them before grabbing her things and following her out.

I lead us to my truck and help her inside. True to my word, I stop at the guard shack and let security know we’re leaving her car in the lot.

I glance over at her a couple of times during the drive to my place and frown at the sight of her curled up against the glass. I hate seeing her upset. I wish I knew what to do to make things better for her. For right now, I’ll do the only things I can—take her to my condo so she has a safe place to sleep and feed her.

I silently vow not to let her go through her pregnancy alone, nor will I let her be homeless. I have to figure out how to convince her to let me help for more than tonight, let me be her support.

Get Line Change here.

Acknowledgements

To my husband: I love you. Thank you for supporting me and for being my biggest cheerleader and fan. For believing in me when I didn't believe in myself.

Ashley, Stephanie, & Kelly: Thank you for your friendship, for your support, and for reading an early version of the book and providing feedback. It (and you) means so much to me.

Leslie: My oldest and closest friend. Your friendship and support mean the world to me.

Jordan: Thank you for creating an amazing cover that I absolutely love.

Laura, my editor and Ashley, my proofreader: Thank you for giving this book a fresh set of eyes. I appreciate both of you helping me make this book the best it can be.

To anyone who has shared my social media posts, commented on them, sent me excited (or encouraging) DMs, told me you enjoyed one of my books, left a review: Thank you!! Your support means so much to me.

And to my ARC readers and all my readers: Thank you for reading. Thank you for supporting me. I appreciate each and every one of you.

Also by Marissa James

Orlando Storm Series

Hot Shot – Hunter & Madison

Break Out – Brody & Aubrey

Golden Goal – Holt & Rebecca

Blue Line – Wes & Hadley

Line Change – Sebastian & Sutton

For You Series

Falling For You: A Thanksgiving Novella – Avery & Thatcher

Wishing For You: A New Year’s Eve Novella – Caroline & Anders

About the Author

Marissa James grew up reading books and dreaming of being an author. She finally decided to pursue her dream of being a published author in 2022. She loves to write happily ever afters with a perfect blend of emotion and steamy romance. When she’s not writing, she can be found working her day job, reading romance novels, watching hockey, or hanging out with her husband.

Website: www.marissajamesauthor.com