Chapter One #2
"Who is…oh." A grin stretches across his face. "That's Tia Monroe, Kingston's baby sister and Sophie's Maid of Honor. They got close when Tia was staying with Kingston and Evie over the summer." His hand clamps down on my shoulder. "You're walking her down the aisle."
Fuck me. That's Kingston Monroe's baby sister?
She looks nothing like her brother. For one, she's absolutely gorgeous. For another, she's tiny. Kingston is damn near as big as I am. The man is a beast in skates. She looks like a harmless little angel.
One I'd really like to—
"Just a word of warning," Harlan says, like he's reading my mind, "but she doesn't date hockey players. Do yourself a favor and don't hit on her if you don't want to get your feelings hurt."
"Why doesn't she date hockey players?"
Harlan shrugs like it's not his business. "Fuck if I know. Sophie just said she doesn't like hockey players."
"Why doesn't she like hockey players?" I ask.
"Again, how should I know?" Harlan asks.
I stare at him levelly for a heartbeat. "Has anyone ever mistaken you for a font of information?"
"Nope," he says, shrugging like the insult doesn't bother him at all. Hell, it probably doesn't. There are three things Harlan cares about: our family, Sophie, and hockey. Anything else just doesn't fucking matter to him. Until Sophie, he didn't even like most people.
Frankly, it's inconvenient as hell.
My gaze flicks back to Tia, my dick throbbing. Why doesn't she like hockey players? Better question…how the fuck do I change her mind?
An hour later, I have no plan, but I decide to approach her anyway to introduce myself while everyone else is still eating. She's standing at the back of the room by herself, examining the photos of Harlan and Sophie hanging along the back wall.
I step up beside her, clearing my throat so she hears me over the soft strains of music and the loud hum of conversation from the table. Christ, I haven't been this nervous since…ever, actually. I have never been this nervous. What the fuck is that about?
I play in front of packed arenas constantly. I talk to the press weekly. Women flirt daily. And not once have my hands ever been this sweaty. I've never felt this jittery, either, not even after coming off the ice after a shutout.
Tia glances over at me, and I realize her eyes aren't blue at all. They're this startling shade of gray I've never seen before.
Fucking hell, she's beautiful, the kind of curvy that just overflows everywhere—her tits, her stomach, her hips. It's sexy as hell.
I stand there for a long moment, just staring at her. So long that it's obvious. Judging by the furrow between her brows, it's also annoying her. Shit.
"Hey," I finally mutter.
She arches a brow at me. "Hey."
"You're Kingston's sister?"
Smooth, Ward. Real fucking smooth.
"And you're Harlan's brother."
"Right." I grimace. This is a disaster. When the fuck did my brain stop functioning? Striking up a conversation is never this hard. Hell, most people wish I'd stop talking most of the time. And yet…here we are. "You're far more beautiful than he is."
She blinks at me. "What?"
Maybe I shouldn't have said that.
"I said they look beautiful together, don't they?" I lie, nodding at the photos of Harlan and Sophie in an act of sheer desperation. "Happy."
"Ah…yeah, they do," she says softly, eyeing me sideways.
"You're the Maid of Honor, right?" I ask before she puts two and two together and realizes that's absolutely not what I said.
"I am," she says slowly. "Why?"
"We're paired up for the ceremony."
"Oh." The furrow between her brow eases slightly, and then she cocks her head to the side. "Can I ask you a question?"
"You can ask me anything." She eyes me oddly again, and I realize I should probably stop talking, but I fucking can't. Now that I've started, my mouth won't stop moving. Jesus Christ. If Tye hears about this, he's never letting me live it down. "Anything at all."
"I know why I'm the Maid of Honor," she says after a moment, "but why are you the Best Man?"
A surprised bark of laughter bursts from my lips, my nervousness vanishing in the face of her bluntness. "I heard you didn't like hockey players, but damn. Am I that bad?"
She cringes, her cheeks turning pink. "I didn't mean it like that," she says quickly, and then she blinks. "Wait. You heard I don't like hockey players?"
"That's what the grapevine said." I take a sip of beer. "Interesting take for someone with a brother who plays professionally, by the way."
"Why is the grapevine talking about me?"
"You didn't deny it."
"And you didn't answer the question."
"That's for me to know," I tease, smirking at her.
Her blush deepens, spreading down her throat and onto her chest. I want to follow it with my tongue and see how far it extends. But I'm guessing she'd probably slap me for that, so I don't even try.
"Kingston annoys you that much, huh?" I ask instead.
"What?"
"Your burning hatred for hockey players had to start somewhere. I've got brothers, and if I ever snap, I'm sure they'll be the cause of it, so I can see your brother being the reason for your feminine rage against his profession."
She rolls her eyes at me, but she can't hide the tiny smile flickering at her lips. "He annoys me the usual amount. And I never said I had a burning hatred for hockey players or a feminine rage against his profession. Hasn't anyone ever told you not to listen to random gossip?"
"So you don't dislike hockey players?"
"Never said that either."
I laugh quietly, amused. She's not giving anything away, is she? "Point taken. What did you mean?"
"What?"
"When you insulted me."
"I did not insu…" She breaks off with a groan. "Fine, maybe I unintentionally insulted you, but that isn't what I meant."
"What did you mean?"
"Harlan had you and Tye to choose between. Sophie says you're all close. How did he land on you as the best man? Did he draw straws or something?"
"Nah," I say with an amused grin, "he made the only logical choice."
"The only logical choice?" she asks.
"I'm assuming you've met Tye?"
"Yes, a few times."
"Then you've probably clocked that he's currently a raging psychopath because Vanessa is pregnant," I say with a shrug.
It's not mean if it's true. As soon as he found out she was pregnant, he lost his damn mind.
"But I'm a personable motherfu…" I break off, glancing around.
Everyone is out of earshot, but still. Maybe I should rein in the cursing while we're inside the church.
Seems like the right thing to do. "I'm not liable to flip out and cause a scene.
And people like me." I pause, holding her gaze.
"I mean, most people like me. Obviously, present company is excluded. "
"I never said I didn't like you!" she protests with a laugh that's half snort, half annoyed groan. It's cute as hell.
"So, you do want to run away and marry me."
"What?" Her eyes widen.
"I said, so you do agree that I'm the best man for the job," I lie.
Why? I have no idea. I think I like the way she looks at me as if she isn't sure what to make of me.
If she really is averse to hockey players, I need to keep her guessing.
The more unexpected I am, the less time she has to get her guard up before she ever gets to know me.
"Uh-huh," she says carefully. "I just bet that's what you said."
"It is. Why? Did you hear something else?"
She stares at me for a protracted moment, almost like she's trying to decide if she wants to repeat what I actually said, or if she thinks she'll just sound unhinged, and then seemingly decides not to risk it. "Nope, guess not," she mutters.
"Didn't think so." I wink at her. "See you later, beautiful."
"Beautiful?" she whispers behind me as I stroll away. "Beautiful?"
I chuckle to myself as she splutters and stutters.
Maybe there's hope for my love life, after all.