Chapter 1

“We have a problem.”

Nate’s deep voice washed over Eloise, but instead of the deep timbre that always gave her goosebumps, his tone was laced with panic.

“I need you …” he whispered.

Ooof. There went her heart. How many times had she imagined those words falling from his pillowy, way-too-kissable-looking lips? She shook herself free, shivering when his palm slipped to the small of her back. Score a point for Alice, Eloise’s best friend, for insisting on the backless pale pink dress with billowy sleeves and a thigh-high split that had forced Eloise to think about her underwear choices very carefully.

“… to stop your grandmother from signing me up for Tinder.”

Okay. It wasn’t this exact moment she’d imagined happening.

She flashed a placating smile at her grandmother Joanie who winked at them from across the living room of Eloise’s parents’ house. “The worst thing you can do is show fear. She can smell it.” Eloise inspected her fingernails for any traces of paint left underneath them. She’d switched her afternoon client sessions for extra art classes at Kathleen’s Place—where she was the in-house social worker and wannabe art therapist—in an attempt to calm her own nerves about tonight’s festivities.

Eloise tilted her head towards Nate and swallowed the sigh that wanted to burst out of her mouth. Christ, he looked good enough to eat. RIP to the Tinder servers if Joanie ever succeeded in setting up his account. On anyone else, a dark grey suit and Converse sneakers would look fine, but on Nate? She regretted not bringing a fan with her to this ridiculous dinner celebrating her brother Charlie’s upcoming wedding. She allowed herself exactly three seconds to savour the hint of stubble along Nate’s jawline, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. His chin-length hair curled at the ends, a few strands dipping over one eye as he leant towards her.

It was official.

Seeing him in a tuxedo at the wedding was going to cause a tropical weather event in her panties. Her brown eyes tangled with his whisky-coloured ones for a second before his gaze dropped to her feet.

His Adam’s apple bobbed again when he saw the skyscraper heels Alice had also insisted she wear. She made a mental note to pick up several bottles of Alice’s favourite rosé as a thank you.

“She wrote in my profile that I’m a retired tight hooker looking to score.” Nate ran his hand through his hair. Would she ever be able to look at him and not wonder if those chocolatey strands would make excellent reins?

“There’s no such thing as a tight hooker. Not in the NFL, which she conveniently didn’t mention I played in, so it looks like … well, it looks bad.”

Nate groaned softly, but Eloise was close enough to hear it, to feel his breath on her skin.

This was such typical Joanie behaviour. A chuckle caught in the back of Eloise’s throat, but she stopped it from escaping, schooling her face so it was blank.

Nate glowered at her, but there was a whisper of his usual affable personality when his lips twitched. “It’s not funny.”

“Please. A big, strong, ex-tight end—which sounds dirty no matter how you dress it up because most Australians don’t know anything about American football—who’s scared of someone with a Metamucil subscription? It’s a little funny and exactly what I needed to hear before this ridiculousness kicks off.” Eloise gestured out the window where her parents, Mary and Michael, were putting the finishing touches on the tables.

Tonight was the first in a whole swag of events for Charlie and his fiancée Sera’s upcoming wedding, and Eloise was already over it. Wattle Junction might be a cosy little town west of Melbourne, but it was also the biggest gossip mill in the southern hemisphere. At least, that’s how it had felt these last few months in the lead-up to the wedding. The sooner all of this was over, the better.

“The Old Girls are just looking for their next victims. I’ll sort Joanie out later, I promise,” Eloise said. It wasn’t much consolation, though. Everyone knew the group of local women dubbed the Old Girls Gossip Brigade were impossible to control. “Come on, you can help me in the kitchen. I want to make another batch of the arrival cocktails so there’s plenty and make sure the centrepieces are perfect.”

Nate exhaled, muttering about the matriarchs who filled their days trying to make sure all the singles in Wattle Junction were on the path to true love. But really, he couldn’t complain too much. His mother, Lulu, was one of the ringleaders.

In a parallel universe, Eloise would’ve pushed up onto her toes and pressed her cheek against his. Filled her lungs with the fresh, woody scent she’d forever associate with him. She’d slide her fingers under the lapels of his perfectly fitted suit and whisper that he was hers and no one else’s. Throw in a flirty wink for good measure. Maybe even suggest they sneak off and have a little party of their own with a significantly less formal dress code.

But Nate’s eyes darkened, and his frown returned, chasing away her fantasy.

Because they didn’t do that.

Friendsdidn’t do that.

* * *

Nate suckedin his breath as Eloise pushed past him, her long skirt billowing. He trailed her into the Hamilton family home’s kitchen, fixating on the back of her dress. Which didn’t exist. At all.

All that covered Eloise’s back was a small pink string tied in a dainty bow in the centre of her spine. And there was nothing dainty about Eloise Hamilton. It was one of the things he liked best about her.

Nate swallowed. This dress and the heels he’d spied earlier? Her outfit was officially a declaration of war against his ability to be a good guy and a good friend. To Charlie, his best mate since he was thirteen. And to her. Because even if most of the time Nate and Eloise spent together was at Kathleen’s Place, the local community home he was always finding an excuse to visit, they were friends now too. Had been ever since Eloise had been one of the few people who made a genuine effort to welcome him home without any expectations. Maybe they weren’t as close as Nate was with his brothers and Charlie, but that was because of his issues. Not hers. It wasn’t lost on him that any day he saw her became the best day.

He pulled at his collar. Why was it so damn hot in here? Winter had been flirting with Wattle Junction for a few weeks, and this morning’s frost had been the first of the season. But now? He’d swear it was the middle of summer. Charlie’s loud curse pulled Nate from his thoughts.

It looked like the Hamilton’s sheep had rampaged through the kitchen. The floor was covered in smashed vases, cocktail glasses and trampled peonies. Bright red spots of blood were scattered across Charlie’s crisp white shirt, and his black tie was flung over his shoulder, a wad of paper towel clutched in his hand.

“What happened?” Eloise asked.

“I slipped. Then I cut my hand, and now I’ve ruined everything,” Charlie hissed.

“I’ll go get Mary.” Nate started to turn, but Eloise grabbed his arm and he ignored the urge to lean into her touch.

“No. Mum’s super stressed about tonight already. I can fix this.” Eloise hurried over to Charlie.

Everyone knew how hard Mary had been working on tonight’s dinner, especially the centrepieces. She’d spent months growing the flowers and studying how best to arrange them. DIY was Mary Hamilton’s middle name.

“I don’t think it needs stitches, but you need to keep pressure on it. Hold it above your heart,” Eloise said before surveying the mess. Nate definitely didn’t notice the way the material of her dress clung to her breasts when she planted her hands on her hips. Nope. Not him.

“Okay.” She clapped, all business and dangerously sexy. “Nate, you’re on clean-up duty. Charlie, stop pretending you’re bleeding to death. I’ll patch you up and then sort something for the centrepieces.”

“What about my shirt? Sera wanted everything to be perfect. You know how her parents can be.” Charlie shot a furtive glance at Nate. “Tell her. You’re the only one who’s met them.”

Out of respect for his best mate, Nate chose his words carefully. The Fletchers were … different. “They’re nice.”

In truth, they were exactly like what anyone would expect a fifth-generation oil magnate from Texas and his socialite wife to be. Friendly, but also not afraid to tell people they owned a blimp with their faces on it and had just purchased a NASCAR team. The Fletchers had achieved an upper echelon of super wealth few people even knew existed. They made the money Nate had earnt during his professional sporting career look like peanuts.

Charlie rolled his eyes, wincing when Eloise plucked a bandage and piece of gauze out of a first-aid kit and started wrapping his wound. “They’re going to eat my parents alive, and you know it. Mum and Dad know it. Hence this ludicrous dinner. The next six weeks are going to be hell.”

Nate was still shocked Charlie had fallen in love with one of the Arizona Mustangs’ cheerleaders on a trip to America to visit him. When Sera had followed Charlie home to Wattle Junction, it had surprised everyone, and now they were hosting a wedding filled with all the glamour and extravagance normally associated with royalty.

He purposely avoided Charlie’s gaze as he rummaged through the cleaning cupboard near the door. There was no need to point out that the only reason they were having this ‘meet the families’ soirée was that Sera’s parents had insisted on organising and paying for everything else for the wedding, even though they lived on the other side of the world. Tonight was the Hamiltons’ only chance to celebrate their son’s marriage on their terms.

Nate started sweeping, salvaging as many flowers as he could. Everything just had to go well. The Hamiltons were some of the nicest, hardest-working people he’d ever met. They were only sixteen when Charlie was born, and everything in this house was a testament to the love they shared and all the sacrifices they’d made for their family. As a transient resident of Wattle Junction since his teens, thanks to scoring a sports scholarship at school in Melbourne, Nate had been grateful that the Hamiltons never treated him any differently. Even after the NFL had made him a superstar and completely changed the trajectory of his life.

“What am I going to do about my shirt?” Charlie asked, and Nate recognised the waver in his friend’s voice for what it was: nerves. Their friendship had changed over the last few years as Charlie and Sera had got more serious, which was fine. And natural. But Charlie was still the guy Nate had grown up with, even if the list of things they had in common these days was dwindling.

“Take it off. We’ll swap.” Nate pulled his shirt out of his pants and shrugged out of it, leaving him in his white cotton singlet.

Eloise’s eyes widened, a pink tinge skating up the column of her throat and blooming on her cheeks. It was just another reminder that Nate’s resolution to stop noticing everything about her was a total failure.

“Instead of staring at Nate’s muscles, do you think you could help me?” Charlie clicked his fingers in front of Eloise’s face, and her blush deepened.

“Shut up and hold still.” She sprang into action, helping her brother with his buttons and tie.

“Charlie?” Sera’s Texan twang floated down the hallway. “Where are you, baby?”

“Are you trying to touch my butt?” Charlie hissed as Eloise started tucking Nate’s shirt into his pants.

“I didn’t touch your … I’m trying to help you.” Her sigh made Nate smile. It widened when she shoved Charlie towards the door. “Keep everyone away from the kitchen. Nate and I will sort this out.”

See? The Hamiltons were just like his family. His brothers Teddy, Owen and Rafferty were always teasing each other. But even better? They never hesitated to support each other as well, which made the fact that Nate had been keeping secrets from them all for years even worse.

“Is my shirt even going to fit you?” Charlie asked Nate.

Charlie was a fit guy from all his work as a builder, but his shoulders weren’t nearly as broad. Nate slid his arms in, the material catching on his biceps and refusing to go any further.

“Oh, wow,” Eloise breathed before stifling a giggle. She crossed the room, and Nate almost swallowed his tongue when one of her toned, tanned legs peeked out through the high slit in the front of her dress.

She held her hands out in front of him. “What if we …” Her hands curled around the open sides of the shirt, and she tugged.

He’d had plenty of dreams about her pulling his clothes off. Never the other way around.

She tugged again. Nothing happened.

Well, nothing happened with the shirt.

Somethingthat shouldn’t be happening happened. He blamed Eloise’s vanilla perfume or shampoo. That damn scent. It should be innocent, like birthday cakes and warm sunshine, but the musky undertones drove Nate crazy. Hell, everything about her drove him crazy. He’d spent far too long imagining what she’d smell like when she first woke up, all sleepy and warm, the remnants of her body wash lingering on her skin.

But he’d never know because there was no way he could ever go there. It wouldn’t be fair to Eloise.

“We could put a cut in the back of each sleeve. No one would see it under your jacket?” Eloise said, dragging Nate away from the thoughts that plagued him whenever they were together. Her hands trailed up and down his arms.

“That’s Gucci!” Charlie hissed.

She rolled her eyes. “Since when do you wear Gucci?”

Nate’s lips twitched as the siblings glared at each other.

“Sera got it for me.”

Eloise wrinkled her nose, her hands flattening against Nate’s chest. Did she even realise what she was doing to him? If he didn’t get himself out of here soon, there’d be no hiding the effect she was having on him.

“And money equals perfection? I swear to God, Charlie, if these people are assholes to Mum and Dad, I will wear your testicles as earrings to your stupid celebrity wedding. Do you hear me?”

Ahem.That visual solved Nate’s problem and he coughed, edging away from Eloise.

“What if I wear my singlet and jacket? No one will notice,” Nate suggested, trying to steer the conversation back to the task at hand.

“But is it Gucci?” Eloise murmured.

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to!” she fired back at Charlie.

Nate swallowed a snicker, but he couldn’t resist seeing if he could make her smile. He lived for her smiles. “It’s Hugo Boss.”

It wasn’t. It was a no-name brand from a chain store. Eloise’s exasperated “oh my God” was worth the lie.

“I’m sorry, do you glamazons need a minute to keep dropping labels or can we focus here?” Eloise arched an eyebrow at Nate. Damn. She could tell him off any day of the week.

“I’m done.” He stepped away from her and tried to peel himself out of Charlie’s shirt.

“Good,” she said, helping him. “It’s not really designer, is it?”

Nate shook his head, his chest pulling tight when her shoulders relaxed.

“Charlie?” Sera called again, her voice louder, closer.

Charlie grabbed two bottles of red wine from the counter, holding them with his good hand. “But it could’ve been,” Charlie teased. “Back when he used to be somebody who got whatever he wanted. The parties. The fans. All the screaming women. On the sidelines. In your bed. Those were the days, right, mate? If the Fletchers are too much for Mum and Dad, can you please distract them with some of your famous football stories? Or the ones about all the groupies. Dalton will eat that shit right up. Skip the stuff about how you’re writing books now. That’s not as interesting.” With that request and an exaggerated wink, Charlie disappeared.

That was how Nate knew Charlie would never be okay with him dating his sister. His buddy never missed an opportunity to bring up all his mistakes. Reading them out like a shopping list of reasons why Nate would be the worst guy for Eloise who was far too kind and sweet for someone like him. And Charlie didn’t even know the worst bit. No one knew about the part that kept Nate up at night and ate away at every good thing in his life.

Eloise’s frown and downcast eyes hit Nate square in the chest. He’d disappointed a lot of people with his poor choices when he was younger but seeing it reflected on her face? It was too much.

“It wasn’t really like that,” he said. “Not after my rookie season, anyway. Mum threatened to hunt me down and kill me. Said the Old Girls would help her bury the body.”

“It’s not my business.” There was no trace of their typical, easy banter in Eloise’s formal tone.

Nate sighed loudly, pulling his jacket back on before tossing Charlie’s shirt over the back of a kitchen stool. He picked up the broom and resumed sweeping, but the silence in the room was heavy, uncomfortable.

He caught Eloise’s arm as she brushed past him, her hands full of peonies. “My life hasn’t looked anything like that for the longest time, and it’s not who I am anymore.”

Eloise just shook her head. “We better get this mess cleaned up before everyone else arrives.”

Nate would bet everything he had that no one would believe what his years in the NFL had really been like or what his time in the USA had cost him.