3. Corbin
CHAPTER THREE
corbin
Dixie’s owner spins on her toes, and her hair swiftly travels through the air. I watch her ass as she picks up speed, probably realizing the urge to use the bathroom is getting stronger. I bend down and ask Dixie, “Is your owner always so defensive and cold?” When Dixie doesn’t answer, I ask her, “Do you want to go on a walk?”
Her ears perk up when she hears the word walk , so I take her to the dog area where there’s a small walking trail and a patch of grass for dogs to do their business. When I look at my watch, it’s been about ten minutes.
We walk back to the car and since it’s no longer smoking, I open the driver’s door and pop the hood, which is sweltering from the summer sun. “Dixie, stay.”
She’s obviously well trained and loved. As she sits on her butt staring at me, I check everything I know. The oil is low, but nothing that would cause her car to quit. The belts are all in place, so I close the hood and call Bryce. His wedding is an hour away in Atlanta.
“What do you mean you’re stuck at a truck stop? It’s my wedding day,” Bryce says to me.
“I stopped at Buc-ee’s to fill up and get some of those famous candied pecans and… there’s a woman stranded with a dog.”
My former college teammate says, “Corbin, you don’t have to help every single person. Have you talked to her?”
“Yeah, I’ve been out here holding her dog so she could go inside, use the bathroom, and get something to eat.” My voice crackles through the phone.
“How long?”
“About twenty minutes.”
Laughing, he asks, “Does she want your help?”
“Can I bring her to the wedding?” I huff.
“Does this woman want to come to Atlanta… for a wedding?” he asks.
“She’s in Georgia, so I assume she lives here.”
“What does her license plate say?” he asks.
I walk around to the back of the car. “Tennessee. Just tell me if I can bring her… and the dog.”
His laugh explodes from the depths of his core as he concedes, “Sure, kidnap a stranger, her dog and crash my wedding.”
“You met your girl at a club. Why can’t I meet mine at a Buc-ee’s? Have you seen this place? It’s crawling with women and snacks. Perfect combo.” I chuckle at my own joke.
"You're really going to pick up a stranded woman on my wedding day? This could go terribly wrong; she could be a serial killer," he teases.
"According to the true crime podcasts I listen to, only 10% of serial killers are women," I reply with a heavy sigh.
"Great, so she might spray you with mace and steal your truck," he jokes. Bryce Wynward, starting center for the Georgia Jets, has been all smiles since he met Emmaline. I’m grateful that he’s worried about me, but I am who I am. Yes, I like helping people. "Just be safe, and I'll see you when you get here."
“Thanks. I’ll be fine and who knows, maybe I’ll catch the garter tonight and have a wedding of my own.”
“I hope so, brother.”
Where is she? There must be one helluva line for the bathroom. I check my phone, and Bryce’s wedding starts soon, so I really need to get back on the road. Being late fills me with anxiety since my entire life has been structured and planned. Once my parents had the “middles,” that’s what my family calls the middle four kids, I would literally feel sick if there was a chance of being late for hockey practice.
Finally, I see Dixie’s owner walking our way. She’s unwrapping a sandwich while trying to eat the bag of homemade kettle chips and her drink. We meet her halfway. “Need help?”
“You really have a savior complex, huh?” she asks while sinking her teeth into a barbeque sandwich.
I take the bag of chips from her and hold them out, so she doesn’t need more hands than she has. “I’m the third oldest of ten brothers and sisters, so it’s how I was raised. If someone needs help… you help them. It’s what I do.”
She swallows and takes a drink of the glass-bottled Coke. “Thank you.”
“What’s your name?” I ask
“Oakley.”
“Is Dixie a cavapoo or a mini goldendoodle?”
“A cavapoo. My mom adopted her from a shelter.”
I like this girl already. Or at least her mom.
“Well, Oakley. I’m on my way to Atlanta for a wedding. Would you be my date? It’s at the Skyloft Hotel downtown. Then I can take you wherever you want to go afterwards.” I extend the chips and say, “I’m Corbin.”
She grabs another chip. “I don’t have anything to wear to a wedding and…”
“And what? My friend Brooke is about the same size as you and lives in Atlanta. I’m sure she’ll have something you can wear but if not, then we can stop at the mall and get you something. But we’ve got to go because I don’t want to be late.”
She mumbles, “My mom would kill me for getting in the car with a stranger.” Her teeth plunge into her ample bottom lip, and I can’t help but stare. She has the most perfect lips I’ve ever seen. Her blond hair is in a short ponytail. “I guess you’re my only option.”
“Thanks for the ego boost,” I laugh while pretending to be hurt. “Do you have luggage or dog stuff that you need me to put in my truck?”
Finally, she smiles, and my heart practically leaps from my chest. What the hell is wrong with me? We’ve exchanged a half-dozen sentences.
“Yes.”
I open the passenger door for her, after I load her luggage. Oakley falters, scans the parking lot like she’s going to make a run for it, but then she climbs in. I pick up Dixie and put her in the backseat. Before exiting the parking lot, I text Brooke.
Me: Do you have an extra dress at the hotel that a friend of mine could wear?
Brooke: A girl can never have enough options. Yes, I brought two dresses for last night and only wore one.
Me: Thanks
Brooke: Wait. Do you have a girlfriend that I didn’t know about? Did you meet her on my app? Why doesn’t she have clothes?
Me: Long story. Fill you in at the wedding.
“Okay, we’re all set. Brooke has a dress for you to wear. Do you need anything else?” I ask before exiting the parking lot.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her as she twirls her ponytail. Only time will tell if it’s something Oakley does when she’s nervous or if it’s just a habit. The delicate slope of her nose is perfect, turning up slightly at the end.
“I’m good. So, who’s getting married?”
At least she’s talking to me. “One of my teammates from college.”
“What sport did you play?” she asks as she scrolls through songs on the satellite radio.
“We played hockey for the Kentucky Stallions. He plays for the Georgia Jets now.”
She punches my arm. “Get out. Are you lying? My momma and I used to watch hockey together. What’s the name of the player?”
“Bryce Wynward.”
She lifts her head as she mumbles, “Wow. His wife is one lucky lady.”
“Is my date crushing on the groom?”
“Well, yeah. That blond hair and those piercing blue eyes. Doesn’t every girl love him? You know when you’re in a relationship and you each have one celebrity that you could cheat with?”
She waits for me to answer. I slowly push the lump in my throat down. My date prefers blond hair and blue eyes, opposite of me. But worse, she thinks cheating is okay as long as it’s with a celebrity.
“No, I’m not familiar with cheating.”
“So, you’re saying if you had a girlfriend and had an opportunity to sleep with Taylor Swift, you wouldn’t?” she scoffs, letting out a harsh puff of air.
“No, I wouldn’t. I believe when you’re in a relationship, all your energy should go into that person. There is no circumstance where cheating is okay.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat as I listen to her talk about cheating with a casual tone. Although I’ve never been in a true relationship, I would like to think I would be loyal and not betray the trust in my relationship. The idea of cheating even if imaginary is repulsive.
My mind races with thoughts and doubts about this girl I just met. How could she have such a nonchalant attitude toward something like cheating? Was she joking or does she really believe it? I can't help but wonder if she would have the same mindset if she were in a committed relationship.
“You’re probably right.”
I lift a brow and glance in her direction. “Probably?”
“It’s a funny thing that couples do and say because they know it will never come true.”
“Well, did you ever think you would meet hockey star Bryce Wynward?” I pause for effect. “I’m betting you never thought you would, but you’re an hour away from meeting him. If you had a boyfriend— Wait. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Don’t you think I would have called him if I did?” Oakley shakes her head. “What do you do for a living?”
“I play for the Nashville Notes.”
Her jaw drops. “You could have led with that.”
“Nah, I wanted to make sure you took me up on the wedding before you knew I was a professional athlete.” I grin and give her a slow wink. “Corbin Shearer. Any chance of me learning your last name before we crash this wedding?"
"I don't know, I've heard you hockey players have a bit of a reputation."
"True, but I promise I'll be on my best behavior. Unless you cause a bit of chaos.”
She playfully raises her eyebrows. “Last name James, and chaos is my middle name,” Oakley says with a smirk.
Consider my interest piqued.
“A little chaos could be fun.”