The Bachelor & the Break-in (Eagles Hockey: Oak Ridge Vineyards #3)

Prologue

brOOKS, FIVE YEARS BEFORE

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

A dream as she walks toward me in a wedding dress, the fabric bright white against the rich dark green of the pines surrounding us, caressing her body in a way that mixes innocence and sin.

It clings to breasts I’ve dreamed about, strokes over hips I’ve imagined grasping as I thrust deep, splits at mid-thigh, giving me a glimpse of legs I’ve fantasized about parting wide then wrapping around my hips as I push deep into the tight, slick heat of her.

Mine.

Mine.

All I’ve ever wanted.

The woman I’d burn the world down for.

The thought ricochets through me so violently that I freeze.

That I know.

Know.

The truth.

The reality.

The…future.

But by the time I process it, what that reality means for my—our—future, she’s there.

Her bright blue eyes glimmering with love and hope, with tears of happiness.

She…is beautiful and good and…

I’m a monster.

I’m going to destroy her.

And suddenly, instead of mountains, I see my father’s study.

Dark wood. Locked doors. Men who come and go in the middle of the night, speaking of awful things that never should see the light of day.

Files that I wasn’t meant to see, to know about, to open.

Accounts that shouldn’t exist.

Journal entries documenting despicable acts in cold, businesslike language.

I thought I had changed all of that after my father died, thought I’d made amends and pulled our family business out of the shadows. But none of what I nearly killed myself to enact makes the least bit of difference.

Not today.

Not with those photos still so fresh in my mind—her soft smile, the brightness in her eyes.

Not with Pascal’s warning in my ears—she’ll become leverage. Or worse, a message. A lesson.

Yes, I’d burn the world down for her.

But the truth is, I can’t protect her from mine.

No matter the silence I promise to keep, the obedience I give, the deals I make, the blood that stains my hands, they won’t stop.

I can only become the villain in her story, let her believe I never loved her.

Let her hate me.

Because that hate may be the only thing that keeps her alive.

Her hand finds mine and she steps close, fingers tightening in that soft way of hers, silently telling me she’s here.

Her plump lips are painted pink. Her freckles are softened by her makeup. Her lashes look longer than normal, darkened with mascara, and they don’t need the help. They already rest gently on her cheeks when she sleeps.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to…”

I nearly jump out of my skin at the soft female voice coming from between us. The officiant is holding a book even though it’s clear she has her spiel memorized, even down to the timing of pauses, waiting for chuckles or laughter or whatever feedback she normally receives from a wedding ceremony.

But there aren’t rows and rows of chairs, filled with loving family and friends.

There aren’t many voices to lend their approval to the quiet jokes and idioms.

Just two stoic witnesses—one my bodyguard, who I trust with my life…and hers, and the other my best friend, Jace. Who I trust just as deeply.

The mountains are behind us.

A narrow swathe of pine trees surrounding us, their branches intertwining to form a canopy overhead.

It’s a peaceful place.

Her place.

And I’m going to ruin that too.

Boom!

Thunder rattles through the air, vibrates through my chest, my stomach.

It shakes the pine needles overhead, dislodging glittering orbs of moisture that sprinkle over her skin, her hair, sparkling like diamonds even as they raise goose bumps in their wake.

Above the trees, clouds gather, drawing together, darkening the sky in what feels like seconds.

A darkness that is suddenly split by a flash of lightning.

Fat, wet drops of rain begin plopping to the ground, turning the dirt to mud as they splatter onto my head, my suit.

Her beautiful dress.

Laughter fills the air—and it’s painful and beautiful all at once.

Because the sound that utterly captivates me in this moment is also what drew me to this sweet, gorgeous, innocent woman, what coaxed me to ignore every single instinct I had to stay far, far away from her.

Briar’s laughter is not a sound I deserve to hear.

And I know it’s one I won’t hear again.

Not ever again.

Not after what I’m about to do.

She laughs again as she tilts her head back, the drops caressing her face, her throat, soaking into the bodice of her dress.

The officiant stops, closes her book, glancing at us then up at the clouds. “Should we stop?”

“No!” Briar says, slipping one hand from mine and opening it, the droplets splashing onto her palm.

“I love the rain!” she cries, flinging her arm wide, embracing the drops as they collect on her hair, darkening the blonde strands, straightening curls I know were painstakingly arranged not long ago.

A pause from the officiant. Then, lips twitching, Briar’s utter joy impossible to resist, she reopens her book.

Briar’s eyes slide to mine, buoyant with joy. “This is perfect,” she whispers as thunder booms again.

As lightning cuts across the sky.

As rain continues to fall.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Brooks? How the rain washes everything clean for a fresh start?”

“You’re the beautiful one, Raindrop.”

The memory of those words, her body cuddled close, her hand in mine, her face going soft when I gave her that nickname slides through my mind, sending pain lashing through me.

Pain I deserve.

“Perfect,” she whispers again, her damp palm coming to mine, fingers wrapping tight again.

No.

It isn’t perfect.

It’s my nightmare…and it will soon be hers too.

Because I’m going to ruin everything.

Before I can say something, can find the strength to pull my fingers from hers, the officiant continues,

“Do you, Brooks Saxton, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall—”

“I don’t.”

The words are ripped from my soul.

Spat into the air.

Shock reverberates back.

From the officiant.

From the witnesses.

From Briar.

“I don’t,” I repeat.

Fingers convulse around mine. “You’re supposed to say I do,” Briar whispers.

My lungs seize. “No,” I say. “I’m not.”

“Brooks—”

I slip my hands from hers. It’s not easy, not when she’s clinging to me so fiercely. Not when she’s looking at me like…

I can’t allow that thought to form, can’t allow the words to coalesce in my mind.

I might do something that’s worse than this.

I might…stay.

“I don’t,” I say for a third time.

Though this time I pair it with putting distance between us, enough and so quickly that I see it break off a little chunk of that innocence, that sweetness, that essence that is purely Briar.

It shatters as it falls to the ground.

Gone.

Forever.

“You’re supposed to say I do!” she says again, more forcefully.

I shake my head, commit her ravaged face to memory, know I need to hold that image tightly so I don’t give in, know it’s the only memory of her I deserve to have.

Then I turn away. Turn from the sputtering of the officiant, turn from the shattering beauty of the only person in the world I’ve ever loved.

I move toward Jace and Pascal. They’ve been with me from the beginning.

Long enough to not question anything.

“Brooks,” Jace begins, moving to block my exit.

Fuck.

Or Pascal has, anyway. Jace has always been a stubborn fuck with a proclivity for doing what he thinks is right.

I ignore it, ignore him, and look to my bodyguard. “Pascal,” I say quietly as I flick my eyes in the direction of Briar.

Luckily, he doesn’t argue.

Only nods…just as footsteps echo across the earth, louder than the rain, which is coming down in sheets now, drenching me, the trees, the earth.

Briar.

“Brooks!”

Pascal steps behind me, intercepts Briar before she can touch me.

Because if she touches me, I may lose my resolve.

“Brooks,” Jace says quietly again.

I just look at him.

He sighs, clamps his teeth together, his eyes piercing into me, silently telling me he knows this is a mistake.

But he doesn’t comment further, and when I step around him this time, he lets me go.

“Brooks!” Briar shouts again.

I start walking.

Keep walking.

Down along the narrow winding trail, following the faint imprint in earthen ground that Briar knows by heart.

Her place.

Our place.

I keep walking—out of her life.

I think for forever…

It turns out, I’m wrong.

About so, so many things.