Chapter 3

Elena’s POV

Thad used to get upset whenever I wore something too low-cut to one of the many client dinners we had to attend. I learned fast that I didn’t want to rock that boat and should cover up.

I never thought my wardrobe screamed, ‘Stick up my ass,’ though.

I narrow my eyes at him, choosing to ignore his jab. “You need to leave before I call security.”

I have no clue if this place has security, but he doesn’t know I don’t know.

He laughs, and it’s a low, deep sound. “Go ahead. Call them.”

I don’t like the confidence in his words. He sounds way too sure that there is nobody I can call.

“I will.”

“Go on. I’ll wait.”

He leans back against the truck, even more, watching me.

Waiting.

And waiting.

“Well?” he asks, arching a brow. “Are you going to call?”

“I don’t have my phone.”

“That’s okay. You can use mine.”

He reaches into his back pocket, pulls out the latest phone, and holds it my way. I stare down at it with surprise, the device the sheer opposite of what he’s driving. He doesn’t look like he should have the latest anything, not when his truck is literally being held together with — holy crap, are those zip ties around the mirror?

“Go ahead. Call.” He shakes his phone at me. When I don’t reach for the device, a slow grin pulls at his lips. “Oh, I see. You were never going to call. You were just trying to scare me off, huh?”

“No. I’ll call.”

He wiggles the phone again, and I don’t take it.

He lets out another low laugh, then slips the phone into his back pocket. His arms go back over his chest, and his stupid lips are pulled into a stupid grin. “Listen, darlin', I—”

“I am not your darlin'. I’m not your anything.” I stalk toward him, lips curled at the unwanted nickname, and I don’t stop until I’m just a few feet away, my finger pointed firmly at him. He doesn’t look the least bit scared. In fact, he looks amused that he’s riled me up, and it pisses me off even more. “You’re trespassing at a private event, and I’m—”

He holds a hand up, stopping me. “Let me get this straight. You hit me, and you’re mad at me?”

“I didn’t hit you on purpose! And the only reason I hit you at all is that I was trying to get you to turn down your damn music because this is a private event, and you’re—”

“Let me guess…I’m trespassing?” He shakes his head, then pushes off the truck, leaning down until we’re at eye level. Our noses are nearly touching at this point, and I should be totally freaked out because this guy is a stranger. But I’m not. I’m too angry to be freaked out.

I also shouldn’t be noticing that his bottom lip is bigger than his top or how soft his lips look.

But I do.

Just for a second.

Then, he opens those lips, and all thoughts of anything other than anger fly out the window.

“Well, darlin', I have news for you: I’m not trespassing. I—”

The doors of the venue swing open, pulling our attention.

“Oh my gosh! You’re here!” My little sister claps her hands, bouncing on her heels excitedly, the biggest smile on her face. I can’t help but grin back at her. Robb stands just behind her, hands in his pockets, watching her with a smile on his face as she zips down the stairs toward me.

Kris pulls me into a hug, and I squeeze her back, melting into her warmth. For a moment, I almost forget about everything that’s just happened and the jerk standing a few feet away from me.

She pulls back, looking me over. “You look…”

“Like a mess? I know.” I wipe the mascara that’s pooled under my eyes. “Sorry. It’s kind of been an emotional morning.”

A sympathetic smile pulls at her lips, and I hate it. I don’t want her sympathy.

Especially not this weekend.

I wave a hand. “Enough about that. I’m so happy for you, Kris.”

Her sad smile turns radiant just like that.

“Thank you. I’m so happy for me too. And I’m so happy you two have already met,” she says, nodding toward the guy standing behind us.

“Glad you made it,” Robb says, clapping him on the shoulder and bringing me back to reality.

“Almost didn’t.” The guy smirks when he says it, and it’s like they’re in on some secret the rest of us don’t know.

“Why is it good we’ve met?” I ask, looking around at the three of them, not understanding how they all know one another.

“This is Robb’s teammate who you’ll be walking down the aisle with, duh. Now come on,” she says, looping her arm in mine and dragging me toward the building. “You guys are late, and we have some practicing to do.”

This is my partner for the weekend?

This guy? The one I just punched in the face?

Is he a professional hockey player?

I glance back at him, watching as he slowly ambles up the stairs behind us, that smug grin he can’t seem to wipe off firmly in place.

Fuck my life.