Hooked on You

by Kate Meader

  “For her family.”

  “For all her family.” Harper grasped his arms, but as she was short, even in heels, she could only reach his elbows. “While I’m glad I didn’t can your ass last year, Bren, if you don’t tell my sister you love her, I will trade you out at the first available opportunity.”

  He had no doubt she’d do it, too.

  But Bren didn’t need threats from Harper Chase-soon-to-be-DuPre. He just needed Violet.

  Alamo now had the Cup and was howling his head off while Dante looked on indulgently. This could take a while, so it was a good thing Bren had something better to do.

  He had the hardware. Now for the true prize.

  At the far end of the tunnel the noise was deafening, yet Violet could still hear her pounding heart above it all as she paced outside the locker room.

  Go out there. Go tell him you love him. Do it dramatically in front of a million people.

  That’s what Harper had done in the full-blown view of the sports media. Isobel, too, with the team looking on as she told Petrov what a fool she’d been. Cade had come out during a press conference, for himself and his man. Dante had since claimed him right back.

  All these emotionally stunted people of her acquaintance had somehow managed to get their heads out of their asses and tell the people they loved that they . . . well, loved them! And here she was, wandering backstage at the Cougars’ arena after the team she owned had won the Stanley freakin’ Cup.

  Just do it. Year of the V, girl. Where V stands for Vagina, Victory, and . . .

  “Violet.”

  Oh, thank God. She turned to greet a bearded god. God himself, maybe, if the Almighty was Scottish and grouchy and beautiful.

  “You won.”

  “I did. We did.” He motioned between them.

  She shook her head, suddenly shy. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You sure about that? Violet Vasquez, the mixer, the troublemaker, the bringer of fun? The woman who questions the status quo and pushes everyone on this team and in this family to do better? To be better. You’re underestimating your contribution to the Rebels.” He paused, then added a gruff, “To my happiness.”

  “Of course you’re happy. You just won the Stanley Cup!”

  “Doesn’t mean much without you, Vi.” His brow lined, his mouth skewed. “That night I told you what the lawyer said, what he’d advised, I was being torn apart. To come so far and to get so close to them again—I couldn’t think beyond that to a point where I could have everything I wanted. Cat, Franky, you—this life I imagined with us all. Fighting for my girls is something I’d only recently learned. Fighting for myself and for us was something I still needed to learn, and baby, I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear.”

  She widened her eyes to stave off the tears. “This isn’t all on you, Bren. I—I panicked at the first sign of trouble. I didn’t want you to regret fighting for me. I had a hard time believing I was worth it, so I didn’t grab on to that sexy beard and pull you close. I could have told you I had your back, that we’d work it out together. Instead I convinced myself that walking away was doing you a favor. And when you didn’t stop me, I felt vindicated in every preconception I had about how men—how people—can’t be trusted. I thought I had a lucky escape not knowing my father, that none of those hurts he’d inflicted on Harper and Isobel could touch me. Shows what I know. I’m even more screwed up than them!”

  “No, you’re not. Well, maybe a little, but you’re this family’s heart, with the blood of your sisters pumping through its chambers.”

  She liked that. Not Clifford’s blood, but something more elemental. A feminine power she shared with the Chase women.

  He stood about three feet away from her, balancing on his skates, but with the grace of a cat and the solidity of a mountain.

  She took a step toward their future.

  So did he.

  “I was worried about my girls, about what Kendra could do to rip them from my arms. But I’m not going to let her get in the way of me living my life. Of this life I want to build with my daughters. With the woman I adore. I wasn’t ready for you, Violet. I wasn’t fully formed. You need a man who will give you 100 percent of his focus, who will treat you like the queen you are. It took me time to become that man. He stands before you.”

  And this guy thought he had no words! Her heart leaped in all-consuming joy, before checking ever so slightly. Didn’t they still have a Kendra-sized problem? “You’d risk her going public with what happened?”

  “I’ve already hit rock bottom. There are no more layers of hell to visit. If she wants to dig deeper and find one I don’t know exists, then she can go ahead. I’m not going to run from this, even if it means confessing my mistake to the world to get a jump on her.”

  Another step from him.

  One more from her.

  “So I told her as much.”

  “You—you’d tell everyone what happened?”

  “I’d be honest. Tell my side. And while I might not be charged with a crime, I would be tainted, and that stink of scandal could result in me losing it all. The Rebels wouldn’t re-sign me. No other team would touch me.”

  Oh my God. She saw it now. “You lose. She loses. No more alimony, no more anything.”

  His smile was wry. “She could be the rich ex-wife of a Cup-winner or the poor ex-wife of a washed-up drunk.”

  “But—but the Rebels would have stood by you once they heard your side of the story. I would have made sure of it.”

  “She doesn’t know that. She can’t have it both ways. She can’t paint me as a villain and expect no consequences for her own life. I did something I’m finding it hard to forgive myself for, but if I have my girls, I can work on it. I can work on anything.”

  She was so proud of him for coming to this realization. Love was the ultimate battle and the future was so worth fighting for.

  He was barely inches from her now. “Thing is, I called her bluff. But I’d have gone through with it in a heartbeat and taken my chances in court. I know I have people on my side, an amazing support system with my team and my friends, and I hope that includes my woman. I need it to include my woman. Because I might have my daughters, but there’ll always be a hole that only one person can fill. I’ve been asking forgiveness for over a year, trying to make amends to everyone I’ve hurt, and I’ll do it for the rest of my life if it means you’ll spend it with me. Will you stand with me while I fight for my girls, Violet? For all my girls?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why are you over there and I’m over here?”

  They were mere inches apart, but he was right: it felt like a giant chasm still existed between them. “I don’t know!”

  “C’mere, lass.” His chest heaved, releasing what must have been a pent-up breath, and he gripped her face with both hands. His mouth sought hers, such hunger, such joy in it, and she gasped in relief.

  He wanted her.

  He would fight for her.

  She would claw the heart out of anyone who tried to come between them.

  “I love you, Bren,” she said when he let her up for air.

  “Aye, well, I love you more, my valiant, vibrant, victorious Violet.”

  And then he kissed her again so she couldn’t argue with him, as if his loving her more was even possible.

  It wasn’t, and one day she’d tell him. For now, she’d climb her Scot like a tree and cling for dear, dear life.

  EPILOGUE

  Thirteen months later . . .

  “Nervous, mon frère?”

  Bren squinted at Remy, wondering if he’d made a mistake in giving him this incredibly important job.

  “I wasn’t until you brought it up.” After all, he’d done this before, not that his previous experience set a good precedent. For his first wedding, he’d thrown up in the bathroom beforehand when he saw that four hundred people had filled the church in Brentwood, California, most of them guests of his then-fiancée’s family.

&nbs
p; He looked out over today’s more intimate gathering on the grounds of Chase Manor on the shores of Lake Michigan. The floral-covered bower was set in a semishaded spot halfway between the cedar-and-stone mansion and the cottage where he’d made love to Violet as much as his raging libido allowed. His teammates, their wives, and a few close friends gazed back at him. Kevin, his sponsor, had actually brought a date, and while she looked great, he still looked like shit. Even Kendra was here, still with Drew, who’d had a good enough season on the gridiron to keep her interest. The girls would spend a month with them after the wedding so he and his bride could have a little time to themselves to christen all the surfaces of the house.

  “Thanks for standing up with me,” Bren said to Remy, meaning more than just today.

  “Figured I owe you after you did the same for me. Besides, what else have I got to do now that I’m retired?” He thought for a second. “S’pose I could open a business planning bachelor parties in my hometown.”

  The New Orleans stag party had been a pretty righteous blowout, even for a man who didn’t touch a drop. “Think you have your hands full at home.”

  “Yeah, I do,” Remy said with great feeling as his eyes zeroed in on Amelie and Giselle, his twins, now close to eight months old and currently in a double bassinet under the care of one of Remy’s sisters—Josette? Martine? The man had four, and Bren still couldn’t keep track of who was whom, even after he had spent last Thanksgiving in New Orleans with them. Remy’d kept his promise to Harper to retire when the Rebels won the Cup last year, though there was no missing that envious look in his eye when the team made it all the way to the finals for the second year running, this past month gone. They’d fallen to the New York Spartans in a heartbreaker of a game seven, a loss that wasn’t made easier by the fact that they were the defending champions.

  Winning the Cup just once wouldn’t be enough, but the Chase sisters had proved that their first two years of leadership weren’t a fluke. They had more championships in them.

  Vadim stood on Bren’s other side, pulling at his collar. “Perhaps we should text them. There is a good chance I will melt before we get to the vows.”

  “I know covering up is tough for you, Petrov, so I’m very grateful you’ve made the sacrifice.”

  “Anything for my captain,” Vadim added with a salute and another tug of his collar.

  The final member of Bren’s wedding party walked their way. Dante had become a good friend in the last year, and now he placed a hand on Bren’s shoulder. “I have to warn you that if you had ovaries they would probably be exploding in approximately three, two, one . . .”

  “Sweet, wonderful you . . .”

  The opening strains of Fleetwood Mac’s “You Make Loving Fun” started, chosen by both Bren and Violet in lieu of something more traditional. All eyes shot to the end of the aisle, and Bren’s man ovaries went kaboom! at the sight of Franky and Caitriona walking toward them in pretty blue dresses, bearing small bouquets. They looked so grown up, and his heart tripped at the sight of their beautiful, incredible, unique selves grinning broadly at him. He’d given his blessing to a (temporary) streak of pink in their hair to honor the woman of the day, and somehow that one concession had made him dad of the year.

  Next came Harper and Isobel, polar opposites in appearance and personality, but united by something stronger than sisterhood. Survival. Harper was pregnant again and going through a less traumatic time than her first go-around. Smiling at their men, they took their place on the other side of the celebrant.

  Gretzky trotted a couple of feet behind them, his black coat groomed to a blinding shine, the most obedient Bren had ever seen him—and he spoke too soon, because the dumb mutt spotted Bren and charged him with mucky paws.

  “Down, boy.”

  “Which is what Violet will be saying later on tonight,” Vadim commented as he took charge of the dog with a few commands in Russian.

  About to growl his displeasure at Vadim’s cheap shot, Bren halted, because it appeared that Petrov might be onto something.

  Here comes the smokin’ bride.

  She’d gone with white, but that was about as traditional as Violet “Va-Va-Voom” Vasquez would ever get on her wedding day. In the July sun, her vibrant tattoos and cocoa skin gleamed above her strapless gown, the jewels on its bodice winking in the sun. The dress fell to midcalf, giving everyone an excellent view of her navy-green tartan cowboy boots.

  St. James tartan, that is, which matched the kilt worn by Cade, who was giving her away, and which was also worn by every man in the wedding party, including the groom. Apparently, he’d lost a bet, the details of which were hazy. Whatever. Violet’s wish was Bren’s command.

  Last summer after they won the Cup, he had taken his family to Scotland, and on the shores of Loch Ness, fell to one knee and asked this woman to allow him to love, cherish, and sing to her tunelessly for all the days he had left on this earth. On her screech of “Yes!” the calm surface of the lake broke, the resulting ripple caught by an early morning ray of sun.

  Nessie approved. Both of them.

  Today, she didn’t dawdle, but then that was Violet, a woman born to march in, mix up, and make the world her own. Only this time she wouldn’t be pulling a Mary Poppins and going poof! with her flying umbrella. No, Violet Vasquez would remain earthbound with Bren, giving him heaven in every moment.

  Cade left her off with a kiss on her cheek and a wink at Bren—was it too late to punch him?—before taking his spot beside Harper and Isobel.

  Bren’s woman studied him from head to toe, taking in his argyle jacket, full-dress sporran, knee socks, and gillie brogues. The kilt pin, usually shaped like a sword, had been custom made in the form of a hockey stick—a gift from Harper for the entire wedding party.

  Violet sighed her approval. “Looking good, Nessie.”

  “Looking better, Vi.”

  Their stupid grins rivaled the sun above their heads. Her happiness was his, and with his career winding down and hers starting up, he figured they had a good balance that would bode well for marital harmony and his daughters’ teen years. Don’t get him wrong—he was dreading the moment one of his girls brought a guy home on a date. But Violet would have her early childhood education degree from Loyola University in Chicago by then and would likely have advice on how to handle it. He suspected he wouldn’t be allowed to deck any potential suitors or chase them off the property with a blade. More’s the pity.

  The music faded. The celebrant opened his mouth. Violet held up a hand.

  “I’m sorry, but could I say a couple of words before we get into the nitty-gritty?”

  Bren rubbed his jaw. “Will these words leave me crying and/or jilted by the end of them?”

  “Jilted? Oh no, you’re not getting out of it that easily, St. James. But I can’t guarantee tear-free.” She waved in front of her face, her eyes already misting over. “I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

  She clasped his hand, squeezing it for strength, and faced their guests.

  “I just wanted to thank you all for being here and say a few words to the people who made me their person. Rebels, every single one of you are champions and I love you all.” She pivoted to the wedding party. “Cade, you’re the brother I never knew I wanted, and those months as your fake girlfriend while becoming your actual best friend will stay forever in my heart.”

  Cade winked and mouthed I love you.

  She went on. “Dante, you’re undoubtedly the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in real life.” To the groomsmen, she added, “Sorry, boys, we all agree.” A quick visual survey of the women present confirmed the general consensus on this. Even his Cat nodded! “But you’re not just a pretty face. You’ve also been an amazing friend to me, all the more special because I wasn’t always such an amazing friend to you.”

  Dante kissed his fingertips Italian-style and gestured with his hand toward her.

  “Mami,” she said, turning to her mom in the first row, seated with two of Violet�
��s aunts. “You worked so hard to raise me, making sure I never went without even when you did. I’m so glad you’re here. Te quiero mucho.” I love you.

  Her mother sniffed loudly, which set off the aunts and most of the guests. Louisa clutched at her chest and nodded her love right back.

  “Girls!” Violet reached for Cat and Franky, who wrapped themselves around her. “Thank you for sharing your dad with me. What you’re giving me is the most awesome gift imaginable.”

  “We don’t mind,” Franky said.

  “Yeah, it gets him out of our hair,” Cat deadpanned, drawing laughs from the crowd.

  “Uh, what did we say about propping up your dad’s ego?” She kissed the tops of their precious heads. “Just pretend it’s tough to have to share.”

  Her gaze fell on her sisters, and words seemed to fail her—but this was Violet, so not for long. “Harper’s usually the one for big speeches, and no one can harangue, guilt, or manipulate like she can with a few words. I can’t possibly do justice to my feelings for you two amazing women, but I’m going to try. You had no reason to accept me into this family, a million reasons why it would be easier to ignore me. I’ve been looking for something, a life with purpose, and you gave it to me, no questions asked. There’ve been times when I wanted to strangle you both. I expect that instinct won’t disappear because you’re incredibly stubborn and a pain in my ass. But the love is there wrapped up in this holy trinity of power and awesomeness. Yes, I stole that one from Iz. I love you guys.” She swiped at her eyes and raised a fist to the sky. “Not yet, god of happy tears!”

  At last, she turned her attention to Bren with a splay of her fingers over his chest, soothing the th-thunk of the heart that beat madly for her.

  “My beautiful, grumpy Scot, thank you for being patient. Then, today, and for the rest of our lives.” She didn’t explain the then, though they both knew what she meant. Nine months, one week, three days, and seven hours, give or take a few minutes, from the moment he first saw her in the Empty Net to the moment his body found peace inside hers. “Thank you for loving every part of me. For seeing who I am and who I want to be. For turning the Year of the V into a lifetime of love.”