Chapter One Baggage Claim
ZANDER
The moment I step off the plane in Miami, I start running.
I’m late, and I hate being late. My freaking flight out of Nashville was delayed, and I was already cutting it close, arriving on the day of Jensen and Grace’s wedding.
Still, I wasn’t going to miss my nephew’s fifth birthday and risk losing my ‘Greatest Uncle in the Universe’ status.
Except I’ll definitely lose my groomsman status if I miss the fucking ceremony!
The air is thick and muggy even inside the terminal, like Miami couldn't wait to greet me with a punch of humidity the second I stepped off the delayed flight. My lungs burn. My shirt sticks to my back. I’m dodging people left and right, murmuring apologies as I barrel past a family with strollers and an older woman clutching a souvenir bag.
Signs blur past me. Concourse D. Skytrain.
Baggage claim. I’ve never been so aware of how long a terminal can stretch.
Digging my phone out of my pocket, I dial Jensen’s number as I continue running.
I’m mindful of my massive frame as I run, and make sure not to let my small duffle bag swing into anyone I pass by.
He answers after only three rings - which is surprising, given it’s his wedding day and he should be focused on other things.
“Hey man,” he greets. “Where are you?”
“I’m just about to leave the airport,” I say. “I’ve got to grab my luggage from baggage claim, but then I’ll be on my way. I should make it just in time!”
“That’s a relief,” Jensen chuckles. “Don’t worry, though. You’ve still got two hours before the ceremony.”
“What?” I exclaim. “I thought it started at eleven.”
“No, bro. The wedding is at one.”
I just stop myself from tripping over my feet.
“Oh, thank God!” My exuberance earns me a few surprised looks from people as I continue to rush by.
Jensen lets out a full laugh. “See? It’s all going to be fine. Don’t stress.”
“I feel like that’s something I should be telling you.”
“Dude, I’m chill,” Jensen assures me. “At the end of the day, Grace will be my wife, and that’s all I care about. The rest is just details.”
I grin. “Cool under pressure as always. All right, I’ll see you soon.”
“See you, bud.”
I hang up just as I reach the baggage carousel, letting out a huge sigh of relief that eases the tension in my shoulders and slows my racing heart.
Before I can put my phone back in my pocket, it starts to buzz again.
Frowning, I see that it’s my mom. I quickly answer, part of me worrying something has happened - I just saw her at the birthday party, after all.
“Hey, Mom,” I answer. “What’s up? Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, sweetie,” she replies, a slight twang in her voice. “I’ve just been so anxious, worried that you’re not going to make it in time for the wedding! Where are you? Are you there yet?”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Yes, I’m in Miami. I’m still at the airport, though. Just waiting for my luggage.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” She lets out a long breath and I can practically see her covering her heart with her hand and looking skyward, sending up a quick thanks to the Big Man Upstairs.
“Now, you just focus on your friends, okay? Paige is so thankful you came home for Kevin’s birthday, but you’re cutting it close, hon. ”
“I know, Mom, I know.” I sigh. “Don’t worry. It all worked out.”
“You never know what could happen between the airport and the hotel. Text me as soon as you get there, because I’m going to keep worrying until you do.”
My bag suddenly appears, sliding around the corner of the carousel. It’s a dark green roller with a distinct green ribbon around the handle - a trick my old man told me about so I never get my baggage mixed up with someone else’s.
“I will,” I promise. “I gotta go, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay. Love you, sweetie!”
“Love you too.” Hanging up the call, I reach out, grab the handle of my bag, and yank it off the carousel.
“Excuse me! What do you think you’re doing? You’re stealing my luggage!”
Freezing, I look around, curious to see which unlucky bastard is getting chewed out, when I spot a gorgeous little blonde in a short blue sundress storming toward me, a pair of oversized sunglasses perched on her head and her eyes flashing emerald fire.
Green… my favorite color. Same as my bag and my ribbon.
For a moment, I just stare at her, stunned by both her beauty and her temper.
The next moment, though, I recognize who she is… and my stomach drops.
Oh, shit. Her.
I’ve dealt with this little spitfire before.
The last time I saw her, the Night Hawks — the hockey team I play for — had been in Nashville for an away game, and I’d gone to see my family afterward before meeting back up with the rest of the team in a downtown bar.
I’d rolled up there expecting to have a relaxing night celebrating our win, but at almost the exact moment I walked through the door, this little troublemaker — this same green-eyed girl — had run into me, shitfaced, and proceeded to puke right onto me, then walked away without a care in the world.
I haven’t forgotten her.
This woman has haunted my nightmares ever since.
Rylee Fucking Benson.
At least she appears sober this time. I guess she’s running late for the wedding, too. Pretty sure she’s a bridesmaid. She comes to a stop in front of me and points at my bag.
“That’s mine, asshole,” she snaps, glaring up at me.
I open my mouth to say, “It’s you… ” but before I can get a word in edgewise, she lays into me.
“Are you out of your mind? I don’t know who you think you are, buddy, other than a luggage thief, but if you don’t let go of my suitcase, I’m calling the cops!”
Frowning, I blink as I try to make sense of her words and shake my head. Okaaay… clearly, she doesn’t recognize me, but I suppose that makes sense since she was so shitfaced the last time we met. I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about regarding my bag, though.
“Um, what are you talking about? This is my luggage. Look at the ribbon.”
I point, and her eyes drop to the green ribbon wrapped around the handle. She looks back up at me, scoffs, and rolls her eyes, irritation practically pulsing from her.
“Please, like you’re going to convince me with a stupid bow.
” She wags her finger. “You put it on there yourself. Is this your scam? Put fucking ribbons on the luggage you’re trying to jack so people don’t believe the bags are theirs?
Well, news flash, bucko! That stupid trick isn’t going to work on me!
Now give me my bag. I’m in a hurry and have somewhere important to be. ”
Jesus Christ, this is only the second time I’ve met this woman… and I think I preferred when she was puking on me. I know my friends love her, but she seems absolutely insane to me.
“I’m not trying to trick you!” I take a deep breath and struggle to keep my cool. “Look, this is my bag, okay? Yours must just look like mine. It happens, and it’s no big deal… ”
“Open it.”
My eyes go wide. “Excuse me?”
She crosses her arms, which amplifies her generous cleavage. I can’t help sneaking a look before forcing my gaze back to hers so she doesn’t accuse me of being a perv, as well as a thief.
“Open the bag,” she demands. “Show me what’s inside.”
“I’m not going to do that,” I reply.
“Why? Because you’re trying not to get caught?”
Sighing, I answer, “No, because I’m not super keen on showing off my underwear to an airport full of strangers.”
She grins, her eyes flashing triumphantly. “No? Well, I’ll just call over a security guard and have them open it instead.” Turning, she starts looking through the crowd, and I know she’s not bluffing.
“Fine!” I groan, laying the suitcase down on the floor. “If this is the only way to get you off my back, I’ll open the damn thing.”
Rylee turns back to me and puts her hands on her hips, gazing down expectantly as I squat and unzip the bag. Her arrogant smirk fades at the sight of my clothes folded neatly inside.
“See?” I wave my hand over the open suitcase. “Mine.”
“The fuck it is,” she snaps, dropping to her knees next to me. Before I can stop her, she starts rummaging through my stuff.
“What the hell are you doing?” My anger bursts inside me as I stare down at this crazy woman in shock.
She shoots me a glare. “How’d you get your stuff in here? You have connections with airport staff? Is this some sort of luggage-stealing crime ring?”
I sit back on my haunches and watch her continue to dig through my clothes, baffled. This girl is off her rocker!
Glancing at the carousel, I spot a bag identical to mine, sans ribbon, moving toward us. Rolling my eyes, I stand and grab the suitcase and set it down next to her.
“I think this one is yours,” I grumble.
She pauses and looks from my open suitcase to the one I just grabbed and back again, her cheeks turning bright pink. How is she going to try and talk her way out of this mess now?
Jumping to her feet, she takes the bag and hurriedly stammers, “Oh, God…I’m sorry. That was crazy of me! I swear, I’m not usually such a raging bitch. I’ve just had a shitty few days and I’m not in the best head space.”
She looks so frazzled and genuinely remorseful, I almost feel bad for her.
“Hey, we all have bad days,” I reply in a sympathetic voice.
“Yeah,” she mumbles, glancing down. “Still, it’s no excuse. I am really sorry for freaking out like that and not believing you. The ribbon is a good idea.”
The corner of my mouth crooks up and I shrug. “It’s okay…”
A sudden buzzing sound interrupts me and she jumps, startled, before frantically digging her phone out of her purse.
“Oh, shit,” she mumbles. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to take this. Um, I hope the rest of your time in Miami is much less dramatic than this.”
Before I can say another word, she turns and hurries away, putting her phone to her ear to answer the call.
That was…wild. I watch her disappear into the crowd and shake my head before kneeling to zip my suitcase shut.
Making my way out of the airport, I hail a cab to head to the hotel, and I can’t help but imagine how shocked Rylee will be when she finally realizes who I am.
We’re standing near the bar, watching as the afterparty really gets going around us.
I got to the hotel with time to spare and was able to change into my suit and make myself presentable, even styling my hair so I didn’t look like a total barbarian.
I feel a little weird being all dressed up, and I definitely don’t look like myself, but for the sake of my friends’ special day, I’m willing to pretty myself up a bit.
The wedding ceremony was beautiful, heartfelt, perfect, yadda, yadda… So what if I was in tears by the time Jensen and Grace finished their vows? So was anyone else there with a damn heart.
Grace and Jensen are so in love with each other, it’s almost nauseating.
Hard to believe that when they first met on spring break in college, they both thought they were just going to have a quick fling.
The universe said, “Fuck that,” and threw them back together years later.
Their relationship hasn’t been a typical fairy tale given Grace’s initial hatred of all things hockey and hockey players, but clearly, they figured it all out.
And maybe this wedding means there’s hope for the rest of us.
The reception so far has consisted of food, speeches, and champagne, but now the gloves are off as the DJ lets loose, and the beer and liquor flow. The grandparents and kiddos have gone to bed for the night.
Time for the adults to party.
That goes double for us Night Hawks since we’re still riding the high of our Stanley Cup win.
However, instead of enjoying myself like all my friends and the other guests, I can’t stop watching Rylee.
She’s been avoiding me… or, at least, I think so.
Maybe she actually doesn’t give a damn about me at all, and has completely put me from her mind.
I noted her initial look of wide-eyed shock when she’d spotted me among the groomsmen, but she quickly looked away and hasn’t said a word to me all night.
She looks stunning in her flowy bridesmaid gown, her blonde hair artfully piled onto her head. Some strands have fallen loose since the dancing started, but her flushed cheeks and wide smile only add to her appeal.
I can’t help stealing glances her way. She’s dancing and laughing… the life of the party. It’s impossible not to be drawn into her.
I guess the same can’t be said about me.
“So I guess she’s going to ignore me all night.”
“What was that, Zan?”
Blinking, I glance at Wilder, who’s standing next to me, gazing at me expectantly. Shit, did I say that out loud?
“Uhhhh… huh?” I reply, playing dumb.
Wilder frowns, his mouth barely visible in his thick beard. Part of the team’s defense, Wilder towers over most everyone here… except for me. We’re almost eye-level, which is pretty rare when you’re 6’2”. Pushing his long dark curls behind his ear, he narrows his eyes in obvious suspicion.
“You mumbled something,” he says. “Something about someone ignoring you.”
“Don’t know why I’d say that,” I shrug. “Ignore me. I’m drunk.”
To emphasize the point, I lift my beer to my lips and take a long drink. Wilder lets out a bark of laughter and slaps my shoulder, making me sputter against the bottle. Have you ever had a fucking lumberjack give you a love tap? If I wasn’t a big guy myself, Wilder would’ve dropped me to my knees.
“Fucking lightweight,” he chuckles, taking a drink of his own beer.
I can’t help but watch her again. As the night has progressed, Rylee’s attention has been focused almost entirely on Tyler, Jensen’s older brother. I’ve only met Tyler a handful of times before since he’s busy with his pro-football career, but he’s a cool guy. A fucking giant, but a chill giant.
And, yeah, he’s good-looking, I guess… if 6’4” ripped Adonises with black hair and blue eyes are your thing.
Apparently, it’s Rylee’s.
For some reason, watching her throw herself at him is… annoying. Even now, she’s dragging him onto the dancefloor with her and pressing herself tight against his body.
“Come on, dude,” Wilder says, cutting into my wandering thoughts. “Let’s get some cake.”
Grateful for the distraction, I follow him to the dessert table, determined not to give Rylee another thought for the rest of the night.