I wake up late, because I didn’t really fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning. The dream I’m torn from is one where I’m outside, lying in a lounge chair on my back lawn, the lake in front of me. I can’t see it, though, because Rose is on top of me, riding me, and her naked body is all I see. Her perky tits are bouncing and her pale skin is shimmering and my fingers are gripping her tiny hips as she rolls them. The whole lounge chair is shaking and—
“Get the fuck up already!”
The vision of her fades and I moan as my eyes blink open and I see a pair of thick legs with blond hair all over them standing at the side of my platform bed. I roll over, careful to keep the sheets bunched up over my raging hard-on, and stare up at my best friend.
“I can’t believe how soundly you sleep. It’s like you’re dead.”
“You’ve been saying that since I was a kid. Get over it,” I mumble.
“You know you need a wife, right? Or a girlfriend or a roommate or a nanny,” he tells me, moving to the French doors across the room and pulling back the curtains. “You’d die in a fire without someone here to wake you up.”
“Thanks for the tip, Smokey Bear,” I grumble and scratch at the stubble on my chin as I squint against the bright sunlight. “Why are you here?”
“You made the news again.”
My heart stops and I close my eyes. I’ve been traded.
“Where am I going?” I ask, closing my eyes, wondering why the fuck my agent didn’t call.
“To the rink to practice.” Jordan pauses. “You weren’t traded. You’re in the tabloids again.”
“Calice!” I swear in French and sit up, grabbing my phone off the nightstand. I wonder, again, why my agent didn’t call me. Then I realize I have a text message from him so I open it, bracing myself for the harsh words I know I’ll see. But I don’t see them. Instead he wrote, *This* type of press is OK. Feel free to rescue a kitten from a tree next.
I click the link he added and it takes me to a Yahoo Sports story. I skim it quickly. “TMZ Sports reports… Luc Richard plays hero at a Maine restaurant.…”
The story is a vague, completely off-side account of what went on last night with some outright lies in it. But, for once, I don’t mind at all. Finally! Someone gets it wrong the right way. It even goes on to mention my upcoming Hockey for Hope charity event.
“So should I get you a cape?” Jordan jokes, picking up a shirt and shorts from the pile at the foot of my bed and tossing them at me in his attempt to get me to get up and get dressed. “Maybe a mask? We can give you a superhero name like Hockey Man.”
Jordan opens the French doors and steps out onto the small balcony, staring out at the glistening lake as I get dressed. I laugh as I put on my shorts. “This isn’t how it went down. But I’m glad they think it is.”
“Oh, I know how it went down. Rosie told us this morning,” he replies. “She also told us it was her and Callie who told the tabloid this version.”
I yank my shirt over my head and walk onto the balcony. “Rose did this?”
Jordan nods and gives me a crooked smile. “Apparently Callie explained to her it’s all about the spin, not the truth. So they spun.”
“Oh my God, I fucking…” I’m stunned. Amazed, really. And impressed.
“Love her for it?” Jordan grips my shoulder dramatically. “Maybe you should show her.”
He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and starts making porn music sounds. I laugh but flip him my middle finger. As we head downstairs he gets serious for a minute.
“You know, you’ve been fucking miserable for most of the summer,” he says as I lock the front door and we walk to his car. “The only thing that doesn’t make you miserable is Rose.”
“True,” I admit gruffly. “But—”
“No buts, douchebag,” Jordan cuts me off with a friendly grin despite his words. “Just fucking fix it. You know you want to.”
I do want to fix it. I want to be with her. But it’s not just about my team finding out and the PR nightmare having a girlfriend seems to cause. It’s about Rose.
“I’m not what Rosie wants,” I tell him quietly as he drives us toward the arena.
“You’re all she’s wanted since she was a kid, Luc. Believe me, it makes me question her eyesight and her sanity, but it’s the truth.”
I let him laugh at his own stupid joke before I respond. “She wants who she thinks I am. She doesn’t know who I am. I’m not some soft, romantic, mushy guy like a white knight or a fucking hero or whatever,” I counter, running both hands through my unbrushed hair. I pull an elastic from the pocket of my shorts and pull my hair into a sloppy man bun. “I’m going to disappoint her.”
Jordan stops at a red light and pulls his baseball cap off his head, his blond hair sticking up all over the place for a second before he pats it down, and glances over at me. “Rosie is… softer and more sensitive than Jessie and she’s a tad idealistic, but I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit. She’s not a naïve, fragile kid anymore. She knows exactly who you are and she wants you anyway. I know you’re anticommitment and you’re almost as cynical about love as Callie is, but dude, you’re not your mother. You aren’t predestined to crash and burn.”
He is stopped in front of the arena, next to Devin’s car. As we walk into the building, his words sink into me. Is he right? Could Rose and I actually make this work? Because… I want to.
Four hours later, I open the heavy oak door to Trinity United Church and I brace myself for the reaction. After an hour-long game of hockey with the guys I stayed behind to practice shooting drills. Since then I’ve been walking around aimlessly and trying to figure out what to say to Rose. It started to rain forty minutes ago. Heavy sheets with thunder and lightning. Now I am soaking wet.
The first person to see me is Donna Garrison. Her blue eyes flare and she gasps. Her husband, Wyatt, spins around from where he is talking to Jordan and makes an equally horrified face. Jordan bursts into laughter so intense it makes him double over. Callie joins him, cackling like a chicken.
Across the room, Jessie and Rose turn and stare. Both of their nearly identical pouty mouths fall open, speechless. Leah’s sister Brittany and Cole walk into the lobby, and when Cole sees me, he rolls his eyes dramatically.
“Damn it, Luc! Really?” He scolds me like a wayward puppy that peed on the carpet. It’s the rehearsal for his wedding. He has a right to be pissy.
“I’m on time!” I reply, even though I know it’s a ridiculous defense. He’d probably rather I not show up at all than show up like this. I’m pretty sure I look like a hurricane survivor. Jessie comes running toward me.
“It’s okay,” Jessie assures Cole, her green eyes calm. “We’ll take care of this.”
She turns to her sisters. Callie makes a face and shakes her head. “I’m not helping the French Disaster.”
“I’ll help you.” Rose grabs my arm and drags me away. Jessie follows behind.
Rose leads me down a short, narrow hall and pushes open the door to the restroom at the end of the hall. She pushes me inside and follows. Jessie is right behind her, flipping on the overhead fluorescent light. I blink at my reflection in the mirror.
My hair is plastered flat to my head with rainwater. My baby-blue shirt is so drenched it’s almost see-through. In fact, I’m fairly certain I can make out nipples through it. I glance down at my bare calves. There’s mud all over them. My shoes are squishy from the water.
I flush, embarrassed. I didn’t realize it was this bad. Rosie meets my eye for a second and then turns to her sister. “Is Jordy wearing a T-shirt under his button-down shirt?” she wants to know.
“I think so,” Jessie responds and obviously understands Rose’s train of thought. “I’ll go get it.”
Jessie turns and scurries back down the hall and out of sight. Rose focuses her dark eyes on me. “Take off your shirt and your shoes.”
I wordlessly do as I’m told. She takes them from me with one hand and grabs my arm again with the other and leads me over to the hand dryer on the wall. “Stick your head under that and dry your hair as best you can.”
She smacks the button and the machine roars to life. I bend over and stick my head under it while she disappears out of the room. A couple minutes later my hair is mostly dry and I stand up as the machine falls silent. I walk to the door and see Jessie and Jordan in the small hallway. He’s taken off his button-down shirt but is still in the T-shirt Jessie wants. She’s leaning against one wall with her arms crossed and he’s leaning against the other staring down at her.
“Just give it to me! This isn’t about us. It’s about keeping Leah from freaking out,” she tells him.
He glances over at me but ignores me and turns back to Jessie. “One kiss and you get the shirt.”
“You’re ridiculous!”
Jordan says with a small cocky smile, “You’re going to be kissing me for the rest of your life, remember? This shouldn’t be a big deal. No kiss, no shirt.”
She takes a deep, frustrated breath and steps toward him. Grabbing him by his broad shoulders, she rocks up on her tiny feet and pecks him on the lips. But Jordan isn’t having it. As soon as their lips connect he cups the back of her head, tangling his hands in her long, wavy auburn hair, keeping their lips together. I watch his mouth open and can actually see his tongue push into her mouth.
My eyes snap shut and I turn away. Rose comes out of the women’s restroom next and glances at her sister. She rolls her eyes. “Guys! Leah and her parents will be here any minute!”
Jordan finally pulls back. Jessie’s cheeks are flushed and her eyes are glassed over. Jordan grins like the cat that swallowed the canary and pulls the T-shirt over his head, throwing it to me the second it’s off. He quickly pulls his other shirt back on and buttons it up.
“You can handle it from here, Rosie?” he asks and she nods. He leans down and kisses the top of Jessie’s head. She playfully swats him away. He just smiles and follows her back to the lobby.
Rose pushes me back into the restroom. I start to pull the shirt over my head. I’m slightly thicker than Jordan so the shirt is a little tight, but it’ll do. She hands me back my shoes.
“I dried them under the other hand dryer as best I could,” she tells me.
She grabs some toilet paper and dampens it in the sink and hands it to me to clean the mud and dirt off my legs. I do it but my eyes keep darting back to her. She looks amazing. Her long, dark hair is pulled into a sleek, low ponytail. She’s wearing more makeup than normal—her eyes are smoky and her lips are glossy. She’s wearing a deep blue dress that hugs all the right spots.
“Rose, we need to talk,” I say in an insecure voice as I slip back into my now mostly dry shoes.
“Okay,” she answers simply but shakes her head. “But not now. We’ve got to make sure nothing else goes wrong for Leah.”
I give her a quizzical stare. Surely my showing up drenched isn’t that big of a deal. And then it hits me—why is Rose even here? This is a rehearsal for the wedding party and she’s not in the wedding party.
“Ashleigh is gone,” Rose explains before I can ask any questions.
“What?” I choke out as she grabs my hand and leads me back down the hallway.
“Her great-aunt in New Jersey got sick and she left to go be with her this morning,” Rose tells me, her dark eyes clouded over. “She won’t be in the wedding now so Cole and Leah asked me to fill in.”
I blink. “I didn’t even know Ashleigh had an aunt in Jersey.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty much a nightmare,” Rose says, sighing and tucking back a loose strand of hair. “And Devin looks really upset. I think he’s furious she just bailed like that on his family, you know?”
I nod. He would be furious… especially if this great-aunt isn’t a close relative. I remember the fight they had that I overheard earlier this summer. I can’t help but wonder if Devin is giving us the whole story.
We enter the lobby again and Leah is there now with her parents. She looks distressed. Cole is rubbing her shoulders and whispering in her ear. Donna and Wyatt are talking with her parents. Jessie and Callie are standing in a corner together and across the room I see Jordan standing next to a very angry-looking Devin, who is holding Conner in his arms.
The minister appears and smiles brightly at us. “Let’s get this started, shall we?” We all follow him into the main part of the church. It’s already decorated with candles and pretty crepe balls on the corners of every pew in the soft clover green color that matches the bridesmaids’ dresses and the ties the groomsmen are going to wear.
Suddenly my head is reeling with emotions and concerns that have nothing to do with me. I can’t believe Ashleigh would up and leave the day before the wedding. I wrack my brain to try to remember a great-aunt from Jersey at their wedding. I can’t, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t there. I snuck out early. The whole thing was so emotional and suffocating at the time. I still worry that Cole’s wedding tomorrow will feel like that, too.
The minister turns toward us and starts giving instructions. “Here we go! Let’s give it a whirl!” the minister announces and walks to the front of the aisle.
The rehearsal goes smoothly. As soon as it’s over, I ask Jordan if I can borrow his car. He tosses me his keys without even thinking about it. Everyone is supposed to go back to Donna and Wyatt’s for a barbecue, and luckily, when we get outside the rain has stopped. I grab Rose’s hand and drag her toward Jordan’s car. She doesn’t argue or even ask questions, she just gets in the passenger side and reaches for her seat belt.
I drive slowly toward the Garrison house. She’s watching me carefully.
“You want to tell me why you were soaking wet?”
“I went for a walk after skating with the guys,” I explain. “Jordan told me what you and Callie did and I needed time to think.”
Her face grows pale and her dark eyes get wide. “Are you mad? Did I make things worse?”
“No. It was good. The media bought your story and my agent actually loved it,” I explain and give her a quick smile. “You’re a genius.”
“Callie’s the genius, really,” Rose corrects and then she reaches out and runs her fingers through my hair, probably trying to smooth it down. I’m sure it’s a little wilder than normal. I can’t help myself and I turn my face, briefly, into the palm of her hand and kiss it lightly. She pulls back quickly.
“Luc… We can’t.”
“Ta vie sera belle parce que tu Fleur, es belle. Et tu vas trouver quelqu’un qui t’aimera pour ça.” I repeat the words from so many years ago as I pull to a stop at the curb in front of the Garrison house. Several cars already fill the driveway so I know everyone’s already here.
I turn off the engine and turn to see her staring at me, her eyes wide and anxious. For the first time ever I translate it for her. “Your life will be beautiful because you, Flower, are beautiful. And you will find someone who will love you for it.”
“That’s what you said to me?” she asks. “That I would find… someone?”
“When I was eighteen I didn’t think that someone should be me,” I tell her honestly, leaning across the seat to take her hand in mine again. “I’ve always been attracted to you, Fleur. I just didn’t think I could be who you wanted—who you deserved.”
The sweetest little smile starts tugging at the corners of that perfect, pouty mouth. It bolsters my confidence. I undo my seat belt and slide across the bench seat toward her. “Even a casual relationship with Nessa affected my career and I thought I was only good at being alone. And even though everything with you is so different… so easy and effortless and right… as soon as Atlantic City happened, the drama started again with that picture.”
“We both want to be together but we can’t be.” She finally speaks but it’s barely a whisper. “We have to let it go.”
“That seems like the logical solution. At least for now.” I swallow and squeeze her hand. “But damn if you aren’t just the most undeniable woman on the planet.”
Her cheeks turn pink at my words and I can’t keep myself from touching her. I cup the side of her face, my fingertips slipping into her silky hair. “So maybe we can just be together and the rest of the world doesn’t have to know about it.”
“What?” She blinks and I can already see the look of disappointment creeping into the edges of her now faltering smile.
I close my eyes for a minute but continue explaining. “I need to keep myself out of media shit storms. Can we keep it private?”
“Like… a secret?”
“I know it’s not ideal. I know it’s not romantic or… anything that you deserve.” I feel heavy suddenly and defeated. It’s too much to ask of her. “I feel like such an asshole asking but I want you. I want this. Even if I don’t think I’m going to live up to your expectations. You have some lofty dreams, Fleur, and I know a secret relationship isn’t one of them.”
“No, but you are,” she tells me and my heart quickens and my breath catches. “Luc, you are the dream—however I can have you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
She wants me. Fleur wants me. There is nothing else to say. I catch her lips with mine.