Prologue
Emma
Eight Years Ago
“Stop staring at his ass, Emma!”
I whip around and look straight into Molly’s smirking face.
“I wasn’t,” I mumble, feeling my own face heat.
“Oh, you definitely were. You were practically undressing him with your eyes. And who wouldn’t, honestly. Hockey butt. Yum. Anyway, are you sure you’re okay getting home by yourself?”
Leaning against the wall of the ballroom where the Kids Play gala is winding down, I focus on Molly—not at the amazing ass across the room, thank you very much—and sigh inwardly at the look of concern on her face.
“I’ll be fine, Mol. Seriously. Go home with the hot college baseball player who has been following you around like a puppy dog all night.”
She grins at me. “I don’t usually go for younger guys, but he does have a certain golden retriever need to please that I think will serve me well later if you know what I mean.”
She tosses a sultry look over her shoulder at the guy, and he flushes, practically tripping over his own feet while standing completely still.
I smother a laugh. Molly always has this effect on people. I would give a limb for an ounce of her confidence. The unnamablesomethingshe has that turns men into puddles right at her feet. If I had it, I might not be a twenty-two-year-old virgin about to go home alone when I’ve spent the last four hours in a room full of athletes.
Like I’m no longer in control of them, my eyes involuntarily drift across the room again.
Tohim.
Jeremy Wright.
Target of my nearly two-year-long hopeless crush. Former professional hockey player. Executive director of the foundation that hosts the gala we’re attending. Best friend of my friend Julie’s twin brother, Ben. Unintentionally disheveled dark hair. Muscles for days. Consummate flirt. Outgoing and charming on the outside but with deep dark eyes full of secrets I recognize. Secrets that tell me he has seen the same kinds of things that I have. The kinds of things that wake you up in the middle of the night and make you wonder if you’ll ever sleep again.
It would be too much to hope that he senses me looking at him, but for whatever reason, he turns his head at that exact moment and our eyes meet. My breath catches in my throat, and his dark gaze makes my stomach swoop and swirl, and need pools between my legs. He smiles at me and winks, turning back to the group of people he’s talking to, leaving me staring at his back, a montage of images of what it would be like to go home with him playing through my brain like a movie reel.
As if. Get a grip Emma.
Hot, confident, outgoing, former professional athlete playboys do not go home with freckle-faced, red-headed virgins seven years younger than they are.
That’s just facts.
“Okay, well Hallie and Julie are staying at their parents’ houses tonight since they have to pick up some stuff for our trip, so you’ll be home alone too.” Molly’s voice shakes me out of my thoughts. “We’ll all meet at brunch before we head out to the lake.”
The lake is our now annual trip to Julie’s parents’ lake house in Western Maryland. Hallie and Julie and their families have been friends forever, and I met them and Molly last year during our first year of law school. The two-week trip has been their joint family tradition for decades, and Molly and I are now included too.
These are the things I’ve missed out on since my parents died when I was eight. Best friends. Family vacations. Annual traditions. Over the years, I had made a sort of uncomfortable peace with missing out on that part of life, told myself I didn’t need those things. But the truth is, I need them desperately, and I am absurdly grateful to Julie, Hallie, and Molly for the kind of friendships I could only have dreamed about before I met them last year.
“I’ll be there. I promise. Now go. Have sex with the baseball player. Be prepared to share the details. We’re ordering donuts at brunch and you’re telling us a story.”
Molly grins again and wraps her arms around me in a hug. “You know I love a sexy breakfast story. Get home safe, Em.”
I give her a quick squeeze before releasing her.
“Count on it.”
“Shit,” I mutter, staring down at my phone, the rideshare app open on the screen, mocking me.
When I told Molly I’d be fine getting home alone, I didn’t count on everyone else at the gala also trying to get home and the wait for a car being longer than forever. I should have driven myself. I tried to do exactly that, but Julie was adamant that we take a car so we could all drink and not worry about having a designated driver. When Julie makes a declaration, it’s usually easier to go along with it, but my current self is irritated as shit at my past self for agreeing. I’m as introverted as they come, and my social tank is empty.
I need my quiet house, pajamas, and a dark room, as soon as humanly possible.
