Chapter 1
One
River
TWO YEARS LATER
Bracing my hands on the bathroom counter, I stare at myself in the mirror, running escape routes through my head, while a girl next to me washes her hands.
Women are in and out of the stalls, drunk and giggling with their friends.
That should be me right now, giggling with my friends, but instead, this is what I’m doing.
It’s become my routine anytime we go out.
I prepare myself for the absolute worst, then hype myself up to have a good time and pretend to be the girl everybody else sees.
Four exits. One behind the bar. One at the end of this hallway. One on the left, behind the DJ booth, and one at the double doors up front. There are plenty of hiding spots if you need one. Which you won’t, so stop this shit.
Drink. Get drunk.
Have fun.
Go out there and give ‘em hell. You can do this.
The pep talk isn’t working. While washing my hands, scenarios continue to play out in my mind. I let out a sigh and give the rubber band on my wrist a few hard snaps. According to my therapist, it’s supposed to help redirect irrational thoughts and feelings.
He’s. Not. Here. River.
My jaw ticks as determination sets in. I need to move the fuck on.
I dry my hands, then head out to find my friends, Hannah and Evie, and my sister, Aspen.
Well, I say sister . . . Aspen’s not my biological sister.
She’s actually my best friend, but she’s my sister in every way that counts.
She and her mother had no family of their own until us.
The bass pounds throughout the nightclub. Each beat crashes against my chest and vibrates through the soles of my shoes as I make my way to the group at our table.
“There’s my beautiful sister. Here, I bought you a drink.”
Aspen thrusts a cocktail into my hand, and I wrap my lips around the straw, slurping down the strong concoction until there’s not a single drop left in the glass. Thank God for her. I fucking needed that.
If you couldn’t tell, places like this trigger me.
Hell, the smallest things trigger me: a sound, a word, a smell.
But it’s places like this that really do me in.
I can’t help but think that the man who fills my worst nightmares could be hiding in the thick of the crowd somewhere, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
Of course, Aspen doesn’t know any of this, and she doesn’t need to.
She doesn’t deserve to have any more of my issues pushed on her.
Plus, we’re all here in Vegas for her and her fiancé Cal’s “single sayonara party.” They’re tying the knot tomorrow, and tonight, I’m not gonna let a damn thing come between her and a good time.
Hannah takes the empty glass out of my hand and replaces it with another drink.
My eyes lift to the other side of the table and lock with Carter’s.
He’s Cal’s teammate, best friend, and best man.
He’s also the guy who’s been trying to date me since I moved to New York a year ago.
For some reason, I find enjoyment in fucking with him, so I ask, “Enjoying the view, Fight Club?”
“I most certainly am,” he smarts off with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Usually, I hide behind a mask of snark while pretending to be normal.
Reality is that I’m not normal, and I’m internally freaking the fuck out.
Not for long, though. Once I have enough alcohol in my system, I won’t give a shit about a damn thing anymore.
I know it’s not a healthy way of dealing with my trauma, and I don’t typically drink like this, but it’s the only way I’m gonna make it through tonight.
I roll my eyes and reach over to grab a full shot glass sitting in front of Carter. After downing the clear liquid, I slam the glass back on the table before turning to the girls.
“Let’s go dance,” I say, grabbing their hands and leading them out onto the dance floor.
A kaleidoscope of flashing lights pulses in the air and drifts across nameless faces before disappearing back into the dark corners of the nightclub. With all the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream, now I can finally let my worries go and maybe enjoy myself.
“This Is What You Came For” plays through the speakers, and I raise my arms above my head and let the beat take control of my body.
With every movement tethered to the music, my hips sway as I thread my fingers through my hair, lifting it from my damp neck.
When I look up, the room seems to blur around me, and my focus is pulled back to Carter.
Standing at the railing beside our table, he laughs with the guys as they watch us dance.
Their faces light up with each flash from the strobe-lights as they all clink their shot glasses together before throwing them back.
When Carter sets down his glass, his gaze falls back on me.
His eyes are always on me, but this time, instead of looking away, I hold his stare and let my hips move just a little more seductively.
Take that, Carter Graham.
I can’t begin to break down why I like antagonizing him so much. Maybe it’s the fact that when I mess with him, I never know what’s going to come out of his mouth. And when he smarts back, he’s never unkind. Actually, he’s pretty funny when he’s not being so serious.
“You like him!” Hannah admonishes, eyes wide and shining with disbelief.
My head whips around. “Do not!” I shoot back.
As the lie spews from my mouth, my mind wanders right back to him again.
Not that he or anyone else needs to know he lives rent-free in my head.
I mean, how could he not? That man is a six-foot-three, golden-tanned, tattooed Adonis packed with muscles that make my stomach flip.
His sandy blond hair is perfectly tousled, like he ran a hand through it and called it a day.
And those dimples . . . God, they’re so dangerous they can make any woman drop their panties. Well . . . any woman but me.
Either way, letting my thoughts of him run rampant is far better than acting on them; nothing wrong with a little fantasy, right? Not that I’m admitting to having any of those about him.
Evie raises a perfect brow as if to say bullshit.
“Oh, no. You can’t lie to us. I know that look.” Aspen points at my face. “Plus—”
“You know nothing,” I say, cutting her off as I continue dancing.
I don’t want to find him attractive. God, I really don’t.
Every time he pierces me with those glacier-blue eyes, my pulse races, my cheeks warm, and tingles spread throughout my body.
It literally feels like the ground shifts right under my feet.
Usually, that’s when I run. Running is something I’ve become very good at.
He’s been after me for a year now; leaving my favorite coffee on my desk every morning and showing up when I think I’ve successfully avoided him.
Aspen’s been giving me hell over the past few months after overhearing him refer to me as his “future wife.” God, could you imagine?
Me, his wife? Ha! I mean, yeah, he’s hot as fuck.
A walking, talking temptation. And though that temptation is strong, I would never attempt a casual hookup with him.
I’d probably wake up the next morning with an engagement ring that he secretly slipped onto my finger in my sleep.
Not. Going. To happen.
Though I don’t want to date him, I do like him as a person.
He keeps me on my toes . . . quite literally.
It’s just that I’m scared to fall into another trap.
I’m scared he’s too good to be true. That he appears to be one way, but in reality, he’s the complete opposite.
I’d bet you any amount of money that if we were to date, months down the road, he’d become a different person; a person I wouldn’t even recognize anymore.
They all do.
On the outside, he seems to have his shit together and be the voice of reason.
It’s the other side of him: the aggressive side of him on the ice that everyone sees but seems to overlook, that scares the shit out of me.
We all have our secrets, and if I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that people only allow you to see what they want you to see.
No one truly knows how a person is behind closed doors.
“Come on,” I call over my shoulder to the girls. “We need another drink.”
I’m focused on an escape, a distraction, hell, anything to take their mind off the topic. Except Aspen isn’t so easily thrown off. That’s not surprising; she knows me better than anyone.
“Maybe you should stop fighting this and give him a chance,” she calls over the music.
I shoot her a pointed look. “Aspen.”
“Just stop running, River,” she says as we approach the bar.
“One more word, and I will disown you.”
I would never, but she’s relentless. Turning my attention to the bartender, I slightly lean across the counter. “Eight shots of Patrón and four mixed drinks—any kind . . . surprise us,” I call out with a wave of my hand.
The bartender nods, tossing a towel over his shoulder as he reaches for bottles from the shelves behind him. The sound of clinking glass echoes out around us over the music. I turn back to the girls and smile, hoping the conversation is dead.
No. Such. Luck.
“Payback is a bitch, isn’t it? Remember Christmas last year?” Aspen raises a brow.
Oh, I remember exactly what she’s talking about.
Tucker and I choreographed the entire evening to push her and Cal closer.
Watching them dance around their feelings drove me up the damn wall.
They had that whole “I hate you, but I really don’t” thing going on, then they had the “best friends thing” going on. Best friends, my ass.
Tilting my head, I feign ignorance while giving a non-committal shrug. Hannah and Evie look at each other, remaining mute with amusement flitting across their faces as Aspen’s eyes roll.
She begins ticking off my onslaught of offenses on each finger. “You strategically hung mistletoe in the kitchen, right above where I was cooking.”
Yep. Did that.
“You sat everyone next to each other at dinner, leaving only one seat open next to Cal—”
“Hey,” I interject, holding up a hand and cutting her off. “That table had enough seating for twelve, and there were only six of us. If you didn’t want to sit next to him, you didn’t have to.”
She throws her hands out at her side. “And what? Hmm? Move my place setting somewhere else? That would’ve been awkward, and you know it! Now, may I continue?”
I flourish my hand in the air for her to continue so she can carry on with her rant and get it out of her system.
“Thank you,” she continues. “And as if all of that wasn’t enough, you casually started a fire in the fireplace, left a bottle of chilled wine with two wine glasses, and then your scheming ass went up to your room and didn’t emerge until the next morning.
You basically orchestrated the entire evening like it was a freaking Hallmark movie.
Any of that ringing bells in that pretty little head of yours? ”
Yeah, I did all that, too. Well, Tucker and I did, but I’m not selling out my nephew.
She was trying to convince herself they were “just friends,” and he was trying to pretend he wasn’t in love with her, so I gave them a little push.
When Christmas didn’t work out according to plan, I plotted my next move.
I started looking up bars and nightclubs in Chicago to set things back in motion.
I thought a girls’ night out at a tavern right outside the city, where there would be a slew of men lining up to dance with Aspen, was the perfect way to make Cal jealous .
. . again. I wanted him to see her with other guys and force him to confront his feelings for her.
So, when we were on the jet, heading to the windy city, I spoke loud enough for Carter to hear about our plans for that night.
I had an inkling if Carter knew where I was going to be, he would follow, because let’s face it, the man is obsessed with me for some stupid reason.
I also knew, with Carter and Cal being best friends, wherever Carter went, Cal would be close behind.
By the end of the night, we were all at the same bar.
Ultimately, my “scheming” led to them spending a night together in his nice little hotel room in Chicago .
. . which eventually led to their engagement.
Sneaky? Yes.
Successful? Also, yes.
Look, just because I’m jaded and don’t want a relationship ever again doesn’t mean I don’t believe there are good guys out there. I saw what kind of guy Cal was early on. I mean, the way he treated my nephew, Tucker, spoke volumes about his character.
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” I shoot back with a smirk.
Her eyes soften as she glances across the club, finding her fiancé at our high-top table, laughing with his friends.
“It did,” she admits.
Evie speaks up, telling the bartender to put our drinks on her tab. I toss a couple of twenties into the tip jar as Hannah grabs each of our shots, handing them to us two at a time.
I raise one of my glasses in the air. “Just think, because of all my scheming, tomorrow, you will officially be Aspen Miles.”
“Cheers to that,” Evie calls out.
Clinking our glasses together, we down our shots one after the other.
Aspen stacks the empties on the bar, then grabs the mixed drinks, two at a time, passing them out to each of us.
We carve a path through the thick crowd toward our table tucked against a railing near the dance floor; a prime spot for people watching.
As we near the table, my foot catches on .
. . well, nothing. It catches on absolutely nothing.
Yet, I still manage to stumble, colliding straight into Carter.
His strong fingers wrap firmly around my elbow to steady me before I fall completely flat on my face.
The moment his skin touches mine, heat flashes through me.
A surge of energy pulses straight to my core.
He leans in, and I’m blanketed in the intoxicating smell of his cologne.
The scent is woodsy and sexy. Besides the fact that it makes my eyes want to roll into the back of my head, it also makes me want to close my eyes and breathe him in until I forget where we begin and end.
“I knew you would eventually fall for me.”
“More like your cologne damn near knocked me over,” I fire back.