Chapter 2
Megan
Maybe white knights really do exist.
I stand at the foot of the driveway, gazing up at the black iron gate, closed, with the imposing stone pillars on either side. The one closest to me has a security pad with an intercom on it, and I press the button to ring the house.
All with that man in my head.
The handsome stranger whose help I refused in the street.
My god. Do they really make men like that?
Not in my hometown.
A face like that, with a body like that, in a suit like that?
Triple threat.
He was so well-dressed, with the shiny shoes and the designer watch, to say nothing of the bespoke suit that clung to his tall, masculine frame. His expensive haircut was obvious even with his light-brown waves beautifully askew in the breeze. His car was a shiny black SUV, like the kind celebrities roll up to red carpets in. And clearly, he’d stopped for one reason.
Because I looked like a damsel in distress.
He’d towered over me like some gorgeous, manly angel, and I was so out of sorts with my situation, I’d barely found the words to communicate with him.
As I watched him walk away, I’d felt a vicious stab of regret.
What if he was an actual gentleman, just being courteous, and I wouldn’t accept his help because of all the baggage I’d brought with me—the invisible kind?
I press the back of my hand to my forehead, wiping away the sticky sweat and the hair that’s sticking to me. It’s humid here on the West Coast, but in a different way than it is in the prairies. Much fresher. Lighter. The evening air seems to kiss my skin.
It might be pleasant if I didn’t feel so gross from living in this dress while riding on public buses for two days straight.
Finally, a woman’s voice greets me through the intercom. When I tell her my name, she asks me to wait.
I wonder what’s taking so long. Cole promised me he’d be here when I arrived.
Beneath the security camera, the address is on a plaque. I check my map app; this is definitely it. The address my brother gave me.
I also wonder if the woman on the intercom can see me through that camera. I glance down, and cringe at the sight of my sad suitcase.
I can’t believe my life just exploded at my feet like that.
The cheap zipper burst as I rolled it over the curb, and just as my clothes were hitting the pavement, I heard the car pulling up.
So embarrassing.
Yet so weirdly appropriate, I almost had to laugh. It was a perfect snapshot of the state of my life right now; packed up and dragged to the big city, yet the whole plan is flimsy at best.
No matter how much my friends keep telling me I’m so strong to do this, so courageous, and that I’m doing the right thing—the hard thing—I feel weirdly powerless.
I don’t feel brave.
I just feel kind of numb. And tired and sweaty.
The iron gate in front of me makes a clicking noise and finally drifts open. I hoist my backpack a little higher onto my back and grip the handle of my suitcase as my heart starts to thud. I already feel so out of place in this ritzy neighborhood, but I hardly expected otherwise. Certain parts of my brother’s world always make me nervous.
This part.The successful, wealthy part.
Though I seriously didn’t know Cole was this wealthy.
I make my way through the gate and start up the curved drive. It’s lined on both sides with flowering trees and shrubs that keep the house hidden from the street. I glimpse a man in black, standing beneath a tree, wearing an earpiece and a scowl. And black sunglasses, through which he’s watching me.
Obviously, he’s security.
I smile at him tentatively and continue on. One of the wheels on the suitcase is now giving me grief as I tug it along, but I try to make it appear effortless.
I can’t even see the house yet, but the yard is nicer than any place I’ve ever dreamed of living.
Then I see the house.
The drive sweeps in a loop in front of the mansion. It’s ivory stone, a sprawling two stories, with a massive set of black front doors.
I hesitate, confused. Cole is wealthy, but this is clearly another level.
It’s the kind of estate a man like the one in that big SUV would live in.
I take a deep breath and push on. Why do I keep thinking about him?
Because you haven’t had a sweet, juicy O with a man in way too long. And imagine what it would be like to peel him out of that suit, feel his pulse under his hot skin…
Really not what I should be thinking about right now. But I’m still kind of kicking myself for saying no when he offered me help. And I realize, Troy did that to me.
Of all the things he ruined for me, honestly, eroding my faith in humanity—stress the man part—was the worst.
Maybe I should’ve said yes. It’s the Summer of Yes, after all. So declared by my friend Nicole when I told her I was leaving Troy. She’d been so thrilled about the new life I was going to have now that I was free of him, she’d made me swear to her that this would be the Year of Yes.
But that just seemed too daunting. So I’m starting with summer.
Yesto all the things I used to say no to, the things I put aside for the wrong man, the wrong town, the wrong life.
Yesto the big city.
Yesto my crazy big brother.
Yesto opportunities and risk and the unknown.
“Fucking yes,” I say under my breath.
“Hello?”
I startle as a man’s voice floats out of the foliage beside me. I peer over the lush hydrangea bushes. “Hello?”
A man in the garden gets to his feet. He wears a loose, soil-streaked T-shirt, and squints in the evening sunlight, the lines in his sunbaked face telling me he’s in his fifties or sixties. “I thought I heard a voice.”
“Sorry if I startled you. I don’t usually talk to myself out loud.”
“I do it all the time.” He smiles. “The plants don’t talk back. It’s very peaceful.”
“I know. I work in a garden center.”
Worked. I worked in a garden center. Before I ran out of town.
“Oh? You know plants?”
“I know as much as I can.” I glance around. “We can’t grow a lot of this in Manitoba. I can’t wait to see what all grows here.”
“Well, I’ll take you on a tour, anytime.” His kind eyes crinkle. “They’re my pride and joy. Don’t tell my kids.”
“You planted all this?”
“Some of it. Some was here long before I came along. Gardening… They say it’s cheaper than therapy.” He winks at me. “If someone’s paying you to do it, even better.”
I smile at him, the first real smile I’ve felt in days. The way he gazes at the roses, so lovingly… “I’d love a tour sometime.” I offer him my hand. “I’m Megan.”
“Romeo.” He offers me the tips of his gloved fingers with an apologetic smile. “I’d take off the glove, but my hands are even dirtier.”
“Romeo,” I muse. “What a romantic name.”
“Ah, my mother was the romantic. My father was just in love. She got to pick the name. He had no choice.”
I smile again. See? There are good men in the world.
“Megan!”
I turn at the unmistakable sound of my brother’s voice. Cole strides toward me, his arms outstretched in welcome.
“Cole!” A sweet relief I did not expect to feel so hard hits me at the sight of my big brother.
“Get your ass over here, girl.”
I go straight for his open arms and let him crush me in a hug. He lifts me right off my feet. “Man, it’s good to see you.”
I wheeze a little, laughing as he squishes the air out of me. “Ouch. Let me take off my backpack. Wow.” He’s shirtless and all sweaty, and I already felt grimy enough.
He drops me on my feet and tousles my hair like I’m some twelve-year-old boy instead of a twenty-seven-year-old woman. “You look pretty.”
“Seriously, could you never do that again?” I rake a hand through my hair, which isn’t winning any hairstyling competitions at the moment anyway, but come on. My brother is such a jock, he’s like a hyperactive golden retriever, always expecting you to play with him. “Go fetch a ball or something.”
He just laughs.
When I glance toward the bushes, Romeo has slipped away, vanishing into the lush foliage and flowers.
“What is this place?” I ask my brother. “You could’ve warned me you’d bought a palace.”
Cole snorts. “How much money do you think I have?”
“Enough… to buy this?”
“I wish. This is my best friend’s place.”
Best friend?
My curiosity is piqued, and not in a good way.
Cole’s “best friends” are always people he’s just met. They come and go from his life as fast as the women do. And usually, in my opinion, they’re nothing but fanboys. Guys who glom on to my brother because of his fame, just like the women do.
As a professional hockey player and a very handsome one at that, Cole has celebrity status, and every wannabe VIP, influencer, and socialite who crosses his path seems to want to plant a foot on his back on their climb to the top.
And unfortunately, he has a habit of letting them.
“My new place is undergoing a full reno,” he explains. “So I’m staying here until it’s ready to move in. It’s not far from here. I’ll take you over to see it sometime.”
“Okay. I’d like that.” I know he bought a new house. I’m relieved, in a way, to hear that this isn’t it. If he can afford this, there’s definitely something he’s not telling me. I know what his contracts are worth.
Even the millions Cole makes playing hockey wouldn’t cover this place.
“Come on, let’s get you settled. And I’ll introduce you to Jamie. I think he’s in the shower.”
“Um. Okay…”
Cole chuckles at my general confusion and awe. He bounds up the sweeping stairs with my suitcase, and I follow him into the house. As my eyes adjust, I set down my purse and backpack with a sigh of relief. My shoulders are aching.
We’re standing in a grand, two-story marble foyer with a modern glass chandelier soaring above us. But even that can’t pull my attention from my need to inspect my brother.
The hockey season just ended and he’s in prime shape, toned and tanned. He has a nice haircut, a bit edgy and skater boy for his thirty years, but with his tattoos and the dazzling playboy smile, Cole pulls it off.
He seems happy as he drapes an arm around my shoulders, and I let him steer me across the foyer. Ahead of us, there’s a step down into a massive living room. Across the luxurious room, through the soaring glass walls along the back, is the most gorgeous, lush green backyard I’ve ever seen.
The living room itself is like something I’ve only seen in movies and magazines.
The gleaming white floors marbled with caramel lead to three separate, elegant seating areas, clusters of designer furniture in calming off-whites and earth tones. What has to be painfully expensive art, both paintings and sculptures, adorn the walls and the tabletops, and multiple minimalist glass chandeliers drip from the double-height ceiling.
I glimpse a couple of long hallways that lead deeper into the house, one to each side of the living room. Huge paintings line both hallways.
Paintings of hockey players.
I eye my brother again.
He eyes me back. “Seriously, you look great, Megz. Considering.” Maybe he’s trying to lighten my load with humor.
It doesn’t work. “Thanks.” I poke his ribs lightly. “How are you more handsome than I want to remember? I’m a mess right now.”
Cole winks effortlessly. “How was your travel here?”
“Long.”
He frowns. “You should’ve let me help you out. I would’ve arranged a flight.”
“Honestly, I needed the time to decompress. It’s fine.”
He glances over my shoulder, at the suitcase he deposited next to my backpack and purse. The scowling man in black I saw lurking in the bushes has followed us into the foyer. “Where’s all your stuff?”
“Sadly, that’s it.”
My brother’s expression sobers as the truth of that hits hard. I really am starting over, and I had to give up a lot to be standing where I am right now.
Free.
Cole nods at the man in black, who takes my things, carrying them away into the house.
“Uh—” I start to protest, but he’s already gone.
“You did the right thing, Megan.” My brother’s eyes meet mine again, a little hazy with emotion.
He’s right.
But leaving my ex behind, my job, my whole entire life in Crooks Creek, Manitoba, the tiny town where we grew up, wasn’t easy. It was incredibly fucking hard.
I can’t even handle talking about it right now. I’m way too worn out from the journey here and all the hours on buses. My ass is still numb.
“I know.”
Right now, though, I still can’t quite feel it.
“You’ll be happier here.”
I blink at him for a long moment as that sinks in.
I must be really tired, because I swear he just said…
“Here?”
Like here here?
He expects me to stay here?
“Where else would you go?” His eyebrow spikes. “Of course you’ll stay here, with me. Right?”
Well… my things have been whisked away to who-knows-where, so it looks like I am staying. For now. So I force myself to say the one thing I promised myself I would say. “Okay. Yes.”
“Jamie and I are great friends,” he assures me, maybe picking up on my concern. “He’s really been there for me.”
“That’s nice,” I say cautiously.
My brother chuckles. “You’ll like him, Megz, I promise. He’s a lot like me.”
“Yeah.” I swallow a groan. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”