Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Fuck.
She's short, her midnight blue dress fitted to her curvy body in a way that has my pants growing tight. The way the light catches on her creamy skin gives her this ethereal, unreal quality, like I'm not really seeing her at all. Except she's absolutely standing right there, her soft laughter spilling across the room.
"Who is that?" I ask my brother, nodding at her.
"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."