Save the Date (Chicago on Ice Series Book 3)
Page 1
Table of Contents
SAVE THE DATE
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
SAVE THE DATE
Chicago On Ice Series #3
AVEN ELLIS
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
SAVE THE DATE
Copyright©2017
AVEN ELLIS
Cover Design by Leah Kaye Suttle
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
P.O. Box 24
Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN: 978-1-68291-381-9
www.SoulMatePublishing.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
For my Twinnie, Holly Martin
You might be an ocean away,
but it doesn’t feel that way.
I love you more than you could ever know.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Deborah Gilbert at Soul Mate Publishing for giving me another opportunity to write another Chicago on Ice hockey book. This series doesn’t happen without your belief in me and my way of telling a story.
Thank you to CeCe Carroll for challenging me, pushing me, finding repetitive words and your all around editing brilliance. You make me a better writer.
Thank you to my Beta Baes. Thank you for always giving me what I need, and not just with the writing process. Thank you for reassurance, for reading, for being a part of my life every day. None of these books happen with you.
To Alexandra, my assistant—You are never allowed to resign. That is all.
Josh D. Parker, Good Strong P1—Thank you for always being my medical consult. I’m still bringing you that beer.
Amanda and Claudia—Your love, friendship, and support is always a given. I love you so much!
Alexa Aston—Thank you for your friendship and support on yet another Chicago On Ice adventure.
Kristine Sharp Hyman—Thank you for answering endless questions and sharing your love of horses with me. You have patience beyond measure!
Wendy Hung—Thank you for sharing your passion for horses and teaching me how to write a canter. Love you so much!
To my Twinnie, Holly Martin—Thank you for always reading my work, offering suggestions, helping me be a better author. But it is your friendship I value about all else. I love you.
Tanya Shelton, thank you for reading every word I’ve ever written. Your belief in me has been there from the first page you read. I’m so blessed to have you in my life!
Thank you to Jennifer and Mary, who run the Aven Ellis reader group on Facebook (Kate, Skates, and Coffee Cakes.) You both are such amazing women with a passion for books. I love you ladies so much!
My girls Emily, Jaclyn, Katlyn, and Cindy—It seems like I have known you forever! I’m so fortunate we all found our way together. LOVE YOU!
And thank you to all my readers. None of this happens without your support. I’m truly blessed.
Chapter 1
Be invisible . . .
This, I think as I watch from the shadows, is my best event yet.
I’m like a secret agent lurking behind a corner in search of danger and, in a sense, I am. One of the things I’ve learned since becoming an event planner is to be invisible. To see everything that is going on around me at an event and to anticipate problems and solve them before the client knows they exist.
I take in the view from my position on the outskirts of the party. The lush backyard of this Wisconsin estate has been transformed into a magical nighttime garden. Paper lanterns are nestled in the trees and change from vibrant oranges to reds to browns, representing the colors of autumn. Votives in glass jars line the cobblestone fence, forming a path to the terrace. White peony and rose centerpieces adorn long, rustic tables where guests will dine under twinkling white lights.
The guests are warmed by heaters that have been strategically placed to ward off the chill in the October air, as they enjoy appetizers from the sushi station—a favorite of the groom-to-be—and an assortment of kale hors d’oeuvres served from silver platters by the waitstaff.
I almost laugh. Coming up with a menu that featured so much kale was a first for me, but I happily did it. After all, Livy Andrews is not only my client tonight, she is one of my best friends.
I want her engagement party to be perfect.
“Collins, sweetheart, are you going to hide in the corner all night?”
I flinch at the sound of my mother’s voice. I re-arrange my face into a serene smile and turn around to face her.
“Hi, Mom. Are you having fun?” I ask.
Considering Livy and I have been friends since high school and Mom has known her just as long, Livy insisted on inviting Mom. But having her here only adds to my stress. Luckily, being an event planner for my aunt’s company, Suzanne’s Soirées, has taught me how to handle all kinds of crises with positivity and smiles.
Of course, being raised by Victoria Brady is a lesson itself in believing in sunshine and rainbows and unicorns with sparkles. Hmm. Perhaps I should thank Mom for giving me the skill set necessary to be successful in my career.
Mom smiles brightly at me, like she always does. It’s kind of my mother’s thing. Acting like everything is perfect. Joyful. Happy. No matter the cost.
“I’m thrilled we’re celebrating an engagement,” she says, her voice light. “Livy and Landon are such a beautiful couple.
Of course, I had thought we’d be celebrating Gabe’s and your engagement at this time last year, but alas, that wasn’t meant to be.”
I keep the smile plastered on my face with every ounce of strength I have. I broke up with my boyfriend Gabe last year because I knew I didn’t love him the way I should. He wasn’t The One, although on paper he sounded like he should have been. Gabe deserved to find a woman who would love him with all her heart, and I deserved to find a man I could feel that way about, so I ended our relationship before he could propose.
I spot Landon and Livy from across the terrace, and I see the love in Livy’s eyes as she watches him talk to Beckett Riley, Landon’s best friend and fellow teammate on the Chicago Buffaloes hockey team.
I want to look at a man like that, I think with determination. I want to gaze up at him with love and admiration and know my heart isn’t complete without him by my side.
“Gabe was lovely,” Mom adds wistfully.
I bite my tongue. Yes, until he became a scorned, bitter man after our breakup and said horrible things to me, things you refuse to hear because they’re unpleasant. But hey, I’m sure there’s a rainbow and unicorn to be found somewhere in that situation.
“Mom,” I say, maintaining my smile while adding a warning tone to my voice, “I moved on. Months and months ago. Let’s focus on Livy tonight, okay?”
“Sweetheart, don’t get annoyed. It’s so unpleasant and unnecessary,” she says, pausing to take a sip of her champagne. “Anyway, I came over because I want to give you something.”
I watch curiously as she sets her champagne flute on a table then opens the tiny clutch she’s carrying this evening.
“Here,” she says, pressing a tube into my palm. “I bought you a new foundation. It should hide everything. Isn’t that wonderful? I watched a YouTube tutorial on how to cover freckles with it, and you should see how the girl made over her skin! She looked flawless, Collins. I know how much you want that. Since there are so many eligible men here tonight, I thought you could try it out. The perfect camouflage.”
I stare down at the tube, my fingers curling around it. I’m on the verge of exploding. Something to hide my face full of freckles, a damn near impossible feat since nearly every centimeter of my face is covered with them. I’ve given up trying to hide them, but my mother, in her land filled with fairy dust and sparkles, will never give up trying to make me more “perfect.”
“I see a candle that has gone out. Please excuse me,” I say abruptly, leaving her alone on the patio.
I walk along the perimeter of the party, for once not being vigilant about cleaning up empty champagne glasses and making sure the kale crostini are being appropriately offered to guests. I move away from the sounds of ice being put into cocktail glasses, people laughing, and music filling the air.
I slip unnoticed past everyone. Ha! Maybe I should be a secret agent. My invisibility skills, outside of making freckles disappear, are solid.
I storm down the lush, sloping lawn of Beckett’s estate, the Wisconsin off-season home he shares with my friend Aubrey. My heels sink into the deep grass, so I kick them off and leave them behind before resuming my determined walk away from the crowd.
I head to the edge of the cobblestone fence and stare out at Lake Michigan. The waves gently lap against the shore as the moon shines down on the water. I gaze down at the tube of foundation in my hand, and since I’m far enough away from everyone, I do what I came here to do.
I hurl the tube of foundation over the wall and toward the water.
Except I’m shit at throwing, so instead of flying through the air and landing in the lake, it makes a small arc and plop! Straight down about three feet from where I’m standing.
“Dammit!” I yell.
“Your throw needed more lift,” a voice from behind me says.
I jump around, my heart leaping out of my chest in fear, and I let out a little shriek in shock when I find a man standing behind me.
“Oh my God, you scared me,” I cry, my hand flying over my pounding heart.
I lift my eyes to gaze at his face and see it shows concern over my response.
Whoa.
Oh.
Oh, my.
Hello.
The man before me is all kinds of beautiful. I quickly assess him as I try to catch my breath. I can tell his hair is dark, and with the moonlight, I notice reddish highlights. He’s tall, at least six-four, and impossibly huge. He’s wearing a gray suit, tailored to perfection for his athletic frame.
And his eyes . . .
There’s something familiar about them. I furrow my brow as I stare up at him. I’ve seen them before. A beautiful green with hints of brown and very intense.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have scared you like that,” he says quickly. “Are you all right?”
“I know you,” I say, still studying him. “But I don’t know from where. Your eyes . . . Your eyes are familiar to me.”
A smile spreads across his face, and to my surprise, my pulse quickens in response.
“This might help,” he says and places one hand above his eyes and the other below them, leaving only the hazel color visible. “Think mask.”
“Oh! You’re the Buffaloes’ goalie,” I cry out, having solved the mystery of his identity. I remember sitting with Livy and Aubrey at games and watching him skate around the back of the net and look over at us. I remember staring back at those intense eyes of his.
He drops his hands and laughs. “I’m Luca Ballerini.” He extends his hand to me. “I apologize for catching you off guard like that.”
“Collins Brady,” I say, extending my hand to him. “I’m Livy’s friend and the event planner for tonight.”
He takes my hand in his, and goose bumps dance down my spine as I feel his masculine hand grip mine.
“So, were you attempting to throw some unsightly object from the party into the lake?” Luca asks as he lets go of my hand.
Heat climbs up my neck.
“Um, no,” I say, embarrassed. “I was attempting to throw away a foundation guaranteed to hide my unsightly freckles. Ha-ha.”
A crease appears in his brow.
Crap. He thinks I’m weird.
Which, obviously, I am. After all, I did run out here like a loon to hurl a tube of foundation into Lake Michigan.
I swing my legs over the cobblestone fence, a careful maneuver since I’m in a black Michael Kors wrap dress, and walk the few feet to my failed throwing attempt. I toe the tube and wish I had at least been able to throw away the feelings my mother stirred by giving it to me. I train my gaze on the tube, determined not to look at Luca. I’m too embarrassed.
To my surprise, Luca follows me over the fence and moves next to me.
“Why would you want to cover up your freckles? They’re beautiful.”
I snap my head up and stare at him in shock. “What?”
Luca gazes down at me. “I don’t understand why you’d want to hide something that makes you so unique. And beautiful,” he adds softly.
A gentle breeze sweeps in from across the lake, and my long, brown hair streams across my face. I quickly brush it back while my heart hammers inside my chest.
“You think my freckles are beautiful?” I ask.
Luca’s eyes never waver from mine. “They’re striking. You have an unforgettable face, Collins. In a beautiful way.”
I take in his words, stunned that he sees my skin in this way. Sure, other men haven’t been bothered by them, and Gabe always said they were cute, but they’ve never been called striking.
And never beautiful.
“Your words mean a lot to me,” I say. “Thank you for saying that.”
Luca seems confused. “You haven’t been told that before?”
“N
o. My whole life,” I admit quietly, “I’ve been haunted by my freckles. People stare at me. Kids ask what’s wrong with me. In school, the teasing was really bad. People mistake the freckle on the corner of my mouth for chocolate, as if I can wipe it away. My mom took me to all these dermatologists, trying to find a cream or treatment to get rid of them, but nothing worked. I’m prone to them. They are just who I am.”
“You shouldn’t tolerate them,” Luca says softly. “You should celebrate them.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
A comfortable silence falls between us.
“So, why were you throwing makeup into Becks’ yard?”
“I was aiming for the lake, thank you very much.”
“But why?”
I sigh. “Stupid overemotional response to my mom giving it to me to cover up my skin.”
“Let me guess, you marched down here to do that in private so you could go back up to the party and act like nothing was wrong?”
I blink. “How did you know?”
Another breeze comes in off the lake, and I wrap my arms around myself to ward off the chill.
Luca shrugs out of his suit jacket. “You’re cold. Here.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” I say, shaking my head. “But thank you for offering.”
I take a moment to appreciate the fact that Luca is standing before me in a pale-blue dress shirt, and oh, is his chest broad. I had no idea underneath all that goalie gear that this man—this extremely sexy man—existed.
“Come on, I’ve never had to give a woman my coat before. Let me be chivalrous,” Luca says, interrupting my thoughts. “Please.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding.
Luca moves behind me and gently drapes his suit coat over my shoulders. Butterflies flitter in my stomach at his nearness, and the scent of his crisp, masculine cologne drifts deliciously over me.