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6. The Rules

SIX

THE RULES

BAILEY

I startle awake, realizing I’m on the couch, not my bed, with no memory of how the night ended with Kris. A quick peek under the blanket that he must have covered me with before leaving confirms I’m fully dressed. A part of me wishes I wasn’t.

I recall crying on his shoulder, his arms around me, and the tingles up and down my spine from his caresses. What must he think of me? He handled my breakdown well.

Before that, though, I think I heard him offer to be my plus one at the wedding. Or was it all a dream? I snort.

“None of it matters. My tears probably scared him away.” Then I wouldn’t have to see his handsome face or deal with the past again. Forget about having a talk to clear the air, which didn’t work out so well, especially not when he’s a sexy hockey player on my couch giving me looks I could read a lot into.

I respect his decision not to listen to what I had to tell him about Tia. How he could move on so easily… He’s a good example of how I wish I would have moved on from William. If Kris doesn’t want to know what truly happened with Tia, I suppose I should drop it and let things be.

It’s best I avoid Kris, which is a shame because he’s awfully pretty to look at. And how about his gentlemanly ways? Unexpected. I wonder if Tia regrets anything and realizes what she could have had with him?

I reach for my phone on the side table and spot the time and groan. I need to head up to the lodge at Mt. Hood so I can make it on time for the ceremony.

Either from a lack of food or the thought of seeing William exchange vows with someone who isn’t me, my stomach churns. It’s not that I long for him anymore, but it’s the betrayal that still hurts me like a slap in the face.

What is the worst that could happen if I’m late and miss the ceremony? I could ask some of the other guests for enough details to make Bart happy with whatever I piece together for the article. My parents would frown upon me not arriving until the reception, but would they have to know? There are a couple hundred people expected; chances are they’ll think I’m there anyway, just haven’t run into me yet.

That’s a good plan. I’ll attend the reception, show my face, play nice or hide in the bathroom, and leave once the cake is cut. As I’m debating things, a knock comes at my door. I don’t rush, and eventually make it there, only to catch my reflection in the mirror of runny mascara smudges and messy hair.

“Bailey? You awake yet? What time are we leaving for Mt. Hood?” That’s Kris’ voice on the other side of the door.

Him showing up here tells me he made a serious offer to be my plus one. But how would that even work? He’s going as a friend or posing as my fake boyfriend? People would never believe it.

“I can see shadows of your feet under the door, Irish. Open up.”

I quickly finger through my hair, twisting it up into a messy bun. I lick each of my fingers and rub away the makeup smears under my eyes and down my cheeks. Good enough under the circumstances. I open the door.

“Hi, Kris.” My breath hitches. He’s standing there in gym clothes and wet or sweaty hair like he just worked out, arms spread, a hand on each side of the door frame, and, of course, a smoldering gaze directed at me.

“Good afternoon, Irish. How are you feeling?”

I blink a few times and recover fast. “Fine. Look, you don’t have to come with me to the wedding. I’ll survive, somehow.”

“Damn, and here I spent all morning steaming out the wrinkles in my custom tuxedo.”

“Really?” I bite my lip. I’ll bet he looks like a GQ model in a designer tux. “You actually want to do this?”

“You said you need someone to support you. I happen to be free this weekend. Besides, I love to ski and this way I can check out Mt. Hood. Do you ski?”

“It’s been years.” I’ll bet the ski bunnies would love him at the lodge, clambering over themselves to have him. “Seriously though. Why would you want to help me?”

“Call it a neighborly gesture? I’m bored because I don’t go back to practice until Wednesday? Being a wedding crasher is something I’ve always fancied? Outside of hockey, I have no other hobbies to keep me busy? I don’t know.”

I fold my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow, skeptical of this a whole idea.

“We both went through stuff, Irish. I feel for you trying to get your life back in order. Just thought I could be helpful. And after all that money you donated, you’re owed a date with me. What better way to collect?”

Maggie would say the same thing. I paid for him, so I get him for a night. I chew my cheek, weighing the options. Suffer all night alone or attend with a handsome man by my side? “Fine. Four o’clock. Meet me at my car, and don’t be late.”

“You got it.” He breaks out into a full smile, showing off stunning straight white teeth. “See you then.”

I ogle him as he stalks away to the elevator, admiring his fantastic backside. My family will never believe we are together. He’s all…him. I’m me. But I don’t have time to think about it when I need every second to primp and get ready.

A few hours later, my extra fancy hair and meticulous makeup take longer than planned, but worth it. I’m compelled to look my absolute best tonight. Nothing would tickle me better than to be more beautiful than the bride.

“Suck that, William.” I laugh, but it’s a nervous-filled one. Vanessa and I would play dress up as little girls. When we stood in the mirror side by side, even then, I envied her height and her lighter hair and unblemished skin. Her father, my father’s brother, married a blonde lawyer from Sweden.

In high school, her tall, svelte figure overpowered my shorter, curvy one. We always got along, though. Best of friends until we drifted apart as adults. We both fell under William’s spell; it’ll be interesting tonight to see the dynamic between the two of them.

I brush out the curls in my hair, admiring the way the long wavy locks cascade down my back. With a final look at myself in the mirror before dressing, confidence returns. “I can do this. I’ll be fine. I have to be.”

My phone pings with a text, and I look down, expecting it’s Maggie checking up on me. But my heart plummets. It’s the groom.

William: Hi, Bay. I know it’s been a while. Just wanted to see how you’re doing. Are you here now at the lodge? I’d like to see you before the ceremony. Can you come to my room? I could always talk to you. Remember how good we once were?

“What the hell?” I toss the phone on my bed like it’s a hot potato. If I could throw it at the wall and not break it, I would.

He used to do this often after we broke up, texting me, checking up on me, as if he wanted to keep me longing for him in some sick and twisted game. Maggie was the one who finally helped me see I needed to delete him altogether. Only I didn’t. I got really good at ignoring him, while something equally sick inside of me counted the number of texts he sent all year, and falsely believing he still longed for me.

But to do this, on his wedding day, is nuts. He should be focused on Vanessa, not reaching out to me. Our past is done. He made his choice. What does he get out of continuing to reach out to me?

While Vanessa and I haven’t been as close as we once were, I feel awful for her. I used to count her as a villain in my grief, too, for seeing him behind my back. But now, she could be just as much of a victim to William’s games as I was.

I pick my phone back up with shaking hands. What little confidence had returned to me a minute ago, now gone. I glance over the text one more time, then click to block him.

The edge of the bed curves under my weight as I sit and take in a ragged breath. I’m proud of myself for finally doing that. How I could use a hug right now and a pair of strong arms to hold me. Like Kris and his muscular arms, open and waiting to support me. He’s right, he could prove useful tonight.

When it’s time, after collecting my thoughts and giving myself a million pep talks to leave, I meet Kris at my car. I almost trip on my heels seeing him there, casually leaning against my door, hands in his pockets. So cool and debonaire in his tux. Way too pretty for me.

He whistles as I draw nearer, with the weight of his eyes upon me, raking my body up and down.

“Turn around for me,” he says, spinning his finger in a circle, his voice demanding. I don’t know why, but I do, slowly pivoting on my heels. “You look—Wow. Stunning. Shows off your…nice assets. Now that’s a gown. Let me guess, you bought it to make William jealous? Good choice. Money well spent. It’d work on me.”

His admiration makes me giddy. Yes, that’s exactly what I was hoping for. The gold, floor-length, satin and strappy backless dress hugs my curves in all the right places. Over my shoulders, I draped my cream wool coat. But it is freezing in the garage, so I slip my arms through it and button up.

“Will you drive?” I hold out my keys. He envelopes my hand with both of his, wrapping it in warmth, and slides them out of my grasp, staring deep into my eyes. I shiver under this close contact.

“Happy to.” He leads me around to the passenger side, opens the door, and holds a hand out to me. I take it, my hand so small and warm in his. The heat radiates up my arm and down to my core. By the end of the night, if he touches me much more, my panties could be a wet mess.

We start out; the radio plays a soft tune, but interrupts with a weather forecast. “They’re calling for snow later tonight,” he says.

“Much later, though. We’ll be home before then.”

“Lucky for you, I lived in Denver. I’m used to extreme weather driving if needed. And you have four-wheel drive.”

“Which I’ve been told I need new tires, but haven’t gotten around to getting them.”

“Hopefully, the weather person is right and the storm will stay away then.” His chatting about the weather, while practical, makes me think he’s stalling.

“Don’t you think we have bigger worries, Kris? Like how we’re going to present ourselves to my parents and everyone there. They can be really nosy, and I haven’t been seeing anyone. They’ll have plenty of questions about you.”

“You’ve given this a lot more thought than you let on.” His cocky grin splays across his face. “I thought I was your date. You know. We act like we’ve known each other a little.”

“A little? Look at you, then look at me. I don’t think people will believe we’re together.”

His forehead furrows. “Who cares what they believe? And what do you mean, look at you? In case you haven’t noticed, Irish, I have been. And I like what I see. There is not a damn thing wrong with you.”

Kris has been checking me out? Even with his words, he’s able to warm me up. My cheeks heat and burn.

“Bailey, it doesn’t have to be complicated. I think we say we met long ago in L.A., then reconnected when I got traded and moved here. Which, technically, isn’t far from the truth.” He’s right, and I nod in agreement. Better to stick to reality. “From there we embellish a tiny bit, like saying we’ve started dating, and we’ll see how this goes.”

I close my eyes and imagine my parents’ faces when we say it all to them. Yeah, it works. “Thanks. I feel better now.”

“Hold up, we’re not done,” he says and suddenly his hand slides over and covers mine on my lap. I almost jump out of my skin. “Yeah, see. That’s not going to work. Trust me, Irish, if we recently reconnected and started dating, I’d have been holding your hand every chance I got. You’d be comfortable with me touching you by now.”

“Right, because you’re Kris and a perfect ten and I can’t resist you.” I respond with sarcasm to cover up my nerves at the fact that I would like him touching me, very much.

“You got it. Now let’s try this again.” This time, his hand sneaks along the satin fabric of my gown, and I work hard to not flinch. At my knee, he caresses upward, ending on my thigh. I swallow hard against the rising tide of lust, willing my panties to stay dry.

“That’s better. Good girl,” his voice comes out in a growl and he squeezes there.

“Mm.” I whimper, squirming, my body betraying me. I take his hand off my thigh and thread our fingers together on the middle console. Touching, but safe.

“Of course, I would have gone in for a kiss on our first date, too. Nothing would have prevented me from claiming your lips.” He laughs like a bad boy. “Do you think your parents will be watching for us to kiss? How about kissing in front of the bride and groom? Really send a message that you’re over him.”

“Yeah,” I croak, and clear my throat, eyeing his full lips. “Yes. One kiss should do it. Are we done negotiating now?” I reach for the music nob on the dashboard and turn it up a little.

“For now. Of course, terms are to be revisited as needed. You never know what can happen at a wedding like this,” he chuckles.

For the rest of the ride, we go over the people and family members he’s likely to come across tonight. Every cell in my body is on edge, scared or excited, hard to tell.

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