Pinch (The New Bradfords #1)

Chapter 1

Haddy

“Who says you can’t be a beauty queen and a scientist?” My best friend, roommate, and first cousin Gigi Bradford slides her brush through the silky coat of a tall dog with a long nose secured in a large, empty tub.

As soon as the envelope appeared in our mailbox, I snatched it out and ran to her small grooming studio in our converted she-shed behind our rented house in Los Feliz.

I didn’t want to open it alone, which is silly, I know. It’s just a check in an amount that will cover my entire tuition, room, and board for my next semester of graduate school. Still, my fingers tremble as I carefully unfold the green paper and read the dollar amount.

A letter with a golden-embossed “Congratulations, Princess!” printed across the top is also enclosed.

“It’s kind of embarrassing.” My voice lowers as I recall Dr. Warwick’s face when I told him why I wouldn’t be returning as his graduate assistant in the fall.

Winning International Princess Woman will allow me to focus on my lab work without the extra strain of grading papers and proctoring exams.

“Why are you embarrassed?” Gigi’s nose wrinkles. “It’s simple genetics, same as in the dog world.”

“Don’t say it…”

“You’re just like your mother.”

“You said it.” I fall back against the porcelain-tiled countertop.

My cousin pauses, cutting her green eyes at me. “More like Princess Drama Queen.”

“You can’t be a princess and a queen. It’s redundant.”

“Whatever. Your mom is a meteorologist, which is why you love science, and your grandmother was Miss Georgia World. You’re a natural for the nerdy International Princess Woman. It’s in your blood.”

“So you’re saying I’m bred for it?”

“Exactly!” Gina shakes her head talking in a baby voice as she rubs both of her hands on the golden dog’s muzzle. “Those silly scientists should understand. It’s in your DNA. Yes, it is!”

It’s annoying, but as a dog breeder, groomer, trainer, and judge in championship dog shows, it’s how my cousin views the world.

I have a pedigree. My family excels in science and pageants with ridiculous names that pay a lot of money.

I study the large check. “For a program that awards millions in scholarships every year, I don’t understand why they have to have the word princess in the title. It’s demeaning. They should just call it ‘International Scholarship Woman.’”

“But they give you a crown?” She tilts her head, glancing up at me.

“Yes.”

“And you wear it at events along with an evening gown and a sash.”

I exhale a heavy sigh. I can’t argue. Such commitments do come with the title.

“Some women like to be princesses.” Gina straightens, picking up a pair of sharp scissors.

“My professors are so confused.” I fold the check and slip it into my pocket. It’s too big for mobile deposit, so I’ll have to make a special trip to the bank. “Calling me a princess only makes it weirder.”

Gigi pushes a lock of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear and leans closer to trim the dog’s whiskers. “Your dad is the one who should be confused. He has enough money to cover all their bills and yours. You don’t have to keep doing these pageants if they embarrass you.”

“No.” I shake my head determinedly. “I’m paying my own way. If I keep taking money from them, I’ll always be a spoiled nepo-baby. No one will ever take me seriously.”

Gigi’s lips twist. “I’m pretty sure your mom married Uncle Hen because of that same independent streak. She understands you better than you think.”

The woman smiling back at me from the cover of the pageant brochure has perfectly coiffed, wavy blonde hair, and she’s wearing a white, strapless dress with a red and white striped sash that reads International Princess Woman.

It’s basically how I look at events, only my hair is dark brown and long waves, which makes my blue eyes more noticeable.

“It doesn’t matter.” I shake it off. “Winning this means I’ll be able to finish my research without having to worry about money. I’ll happily pivot, hold, smile, and wave all day for that privilege.”

“Don’t forget you’re riding on the Welcome Back float in the parade tomorrow.” The screen door slams as our other cousin and third roommate Maverick Murphy enters the room. “We’re rolling out at 10 a.m. sharp.”

Gigi puts the scissors aside and unhooks the dog’s leash. “We’re just happy to be your ladies in waiting. Aren’t we, Haze?”

“That dog’s name is Haze?” Mav’s dark brows furrow. “He’s not even purple.”

“Her name is Some Like it Hot Hazel, but I call her Haze for short.”

“What the fuck?” He goes to the cabinet and opens the door, digging around. “What dog is going to come to Some Like it Hot Hazel? ‘Here, Some Like it Hot Hazel!’” He pretends to call the dog, who doesn’t even move. “See? Dog breeders are nuts.”

“She’s got better hair than I do.” I walk over to slide my hand through her silky coat.

“She’s an Afghan Borzoi. She’ll be on the float with us tomorrow.” Gigi helps the large dog out of the grooming pen then goes to our cousin. “Why are you digging in my supplies?”

“I need to borrow your good tweezers.” Mav takes out the stainless-steel tool. “I’ve got something stuck in my blade.”

“Maverick, no.” Gigi reaches over his shoulder in an attempt to grab it. “I can’t afford to have you break those. They cost two hundred dollars!”

“I can afford to replace them.” He dodges her arms.

Gigi is five-eight like me, but Mav is six-two and wily. I shake my head at them wrestling like they’re still kids as I head for the door.

Maverick makes enough money as the star right winger for the LA Champions to buy twenty sets of tweezers. He doesn’t have to live with us. He just likes the company—and driving us crazy.

“I’ve got to finish grading papers. See y’all in the morning.”

“Wave pretty,” Maverick calls after me, and I wave my middle finger at him over my head. “That’s my Princess. I’m so proud.”

“Just like your mom,” I yell back.

Mav’s mother, our aunt Dylan, actually cried when she discovered that after years of trying to guide him into the “safe sport” of golf, her only son is the best hockey player in the southern region.

There was a lot of interest in him when he became a free agent, and he chose LA because we were here. He was only supposed to stay with us until he found his own place, then he never left.

We have an adorable two-story bungalow with four bedrooms and two bathrooms in the best part of LA, and not far from Caltech, where I attend school.

We weren’t looking for a third roommate, but with the cost of everything these days, we were glad to have another person to share expenses.

He was more than happy to stay, especially since we all grew up like siblings. Say what he wants, Mav’s a total family guy and an excellent chef, which Gina and I are not. So, perks!

“I’ll bring the purple drink!” Gigi shouts after me, and I snort a laugh.

Purple drink is a New Orleans beverage made of purple Kool-Aid and Everclear. It’s been in our family since before we were born, so of course, we ran off with the recipe as soon as we turned twenty-one.

“Purple drink before ten in the morning?” I turn, pushing the door open with my butt.

“Our mammas raised us right!” she replies with a wink.

If we’re going to start the day with purple drink tomorrow, I definitely have to lock up in my bedroom tonight. It’s possible I could be out for two days, and these finals won’t grade themselves.

“Why is it so cold?” I stand at the back of the line of cars with Maverick’s coat around my shoulders. “October is supposed to be one of the best times to visit LA!”

“Talk to your mom,” Gina quips.

“She’ll just blame global climate change.”

Maverick shoves a red Solo cup into my hand. “More purple drink. It’ll warm you up.”

“Hold my cup a second.” I smooth my dark hair behind my shoulders before placing the crown on my head. “Help me pin this, Geeg.”

“Hold Haze’s leash.” She passes the sparkling strap to me before taking the hairpins.

Under Mav’s bright purple and black team jacket I’m wearing a sequined white dress with black accents to match the Champions’ jerseys.

My International Princess Woman sash is in place, and a helper waits with the oversized bouquet of white and black roses I’ll carry in the parade.

“Where do they get black roses?” Gina squints at the bouquet. “Will you be able to hold those and the safety bar?”

“Of course.” I take the Solo cup from Mav. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

Or pageant parade.

“Hurry up—it’s almost time.” He nods at my cup.

I take a big gulp, pulling my chin back as I swallow. “How much Everclear did you put in this, Gigi? You’re not supposed to be able to taste it.”

“Mav made it. I had a doggy emergency last night.”

My blue eyes widen at Mav. A maniacal grin is on his face, and he nods, sticking out his tongue. “Extra strength, Princess!”

He takes another big gulp, but my stomach drops. “Maverick…”

I’m about to fuss at him, about how as a representative of the International Princess Woman Scholarship Program, I can’t be drunk on a float, when a lady on a bullhorn orders all riders to take their place.

I’m already feeling the effects of too much grain alcohol when I take my first step up the short flight of stairs to the platform that will carry us through the crowd of fans lining the streets.

“Why didn’t you warn me?” I hiss as I stow Mav’s jacket behind the decorated podium I’ll hold as I wave. “What’s a doggy emergency anyway?”

Gigi arranges my skirt then positions Hazel and her own show dog, a white standard Poodle she calls Spanky (short for Spank My Bottom) at her side.

“One of the breeders had a breakdown. It might’ve been related to her messy divorce.” Gigi makes a worried face. “By the way, we’re fostering a dog for the next few weeks.”

Before I can argue that we said no more fostering dogs, the attendant shoves the massive bouquet of roses into my arms.

“Hold these over your shoulder…” He proceeds to push my hair behind my back again. “Then hold this strap around your wrist.”

“I need something sturdier than a strap.” I’m still speaking as the guy walks to the edge and hops off the float. “Wait! I’m in three-inch heels!”

Not to mention I’ve had two cups of extra-strength purple drink.

The guy doesn’t look back as he blends into the crowd of organizers preparing to roll.

Gigi steps closer. “Grab my arm if you get wobbly.”

“And throw these flowers everywhere? They’re heavy!” For a reason called purple drink mixed with the lingering, horrifying memory of dog vomit from our last foster pet, I want to sit down right here and cross my arms. “Who is this foster dog, anyway?”

“Oh, she’s the cutest little thing!” Gigi smiles enraptured. “She’s a little teacup poodle named Princess Petunia. You’ll love her. She’s practically made to be your pet!”

“I don’t want a pet. Where is she now?”

“At the house.” Gigi’s eyes narrow. “Are you okay? You’re swaying, and we haven’t started moving yet.”

She’s right. I didn’t eat breakfast, and it feels like the float is already rolling.

I’m in trouble.

“Hey, ladies!” Maverick waves at us from where he stands at the side of the float. “I want y’all to meet my new teammate. He’s going to be staying at the house a few days while he finds his own place.”

“Maverick!” Gigi’s voice is loud and cross. “We didn’t discuss this first!”

“You’re one to talk.” I’m still cross about our surprise foster-dog. “If this new dog barfs in my bed like the last one—”

“You’re going to love her,” Gigi interrupts me.

Our cousin waves over a big guy with shaggy brown hair, then holds out a red Solo cup to him as he hustles up to give Mav a bro-hug.

“That’s my man!” Maverick is still yelling, pointing at the guy whose back is turned.

The lady is on the bullhorn again, giving us all the ten-second warning.

Doing my best to shake off this buzz, I roll my shoulders back and adjust my posture. The float does a sharp lurch forward, and I wobble on my heels, jerking hard on the strap.

“Whoa…” It’s a low yell, and Gina grabs my hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Yo, Princess, Maid Marian, over here!” Mav is yelling, and now his arm is looped around the new teammate’s shoulders. “I present to you Gavin Knight of the dynamite, unstoppable Gav and Mav hockey duo!”

The tall fellow lifts his square chin, and ice-blue eyes blink up to mine. When they clash, cold water surges through my bloodstream followed quickly by fire.

He’s standing there, all six-foot-two, broad shoulders, rounded biceps, square jaw with that dimple right in the middle of his cheek. Full lips part over straight white teeth, and my stomach dips.

I’m frozen as my mind tumbles back to my college days in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, my roommate Karen crying her eyes out on the sofa because the man she loved, the man she trusted, her first college boyfriend, was sleeping with every girl in the Tri-Delta sorority house.

I don’t know when he started going by Gavin, but Lane Knight is the most notorious playboy I’ve ever met. He has the body of a god and the heart of a villain.

“No!” My voice is sharp, and I release the strap, taking a step in the direction of my cousin. “Not him!”

I guess purple drink makes me think I’m going to do something right here in the middle of a parade in my dress, crown, and three-inch heels.

The float starts to roll, and the words morph into a scream as I throw white and black roses into the air.

Spanky lunges forward, dragging Gina with him, as if he’ll rescue me, but it’s too late. Nothing is going to stop me as I fly through the air.

Nothing except the rock-hard chest of the world’s biggest jerk, who I vowed to my college roommate I’d never speak to again.

With an oof! I land, Cinderella-style in his arms.

He has the nerve to catch me.

“Well, hello, Hayden.” His chin dips, and he grins at me like the player he is. “Nice of you to drop in. I hear we’re going to be roommates.”

“Put me down.” I struggle to get out of his strong arms.

He doesn’t let me go. Instead, his eyes narrow. “I guess that’s your funny way of saying thank you for saving your life.”

“You didn’t save my life. You only broke my fall.” I push his chest, and he relents. “Like you break everything.”

I said the last part under my breath, but I can tell he heard me by the way his jaw tightens.

I’m all set to walk away and take my place on the float again, when my heel catches in the hem of my gown, and with a loud rip, the bottom of my skirt disappears along with my appearance in the LA Champions official Welcome Back Parade.