by Danica Flynn
Score Her Heart
A Philadelphia Bulldogs Novel
Danica Flynn
Contents
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
Epilogue
Get The Exclusive Bonus Scene
Acknowledgments
Follow Danica
Also by Danica Flynn
About the Author
Score Her Heart
Copyright © 2021 Danica Flynn
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information browsing, storage, or retrieval system, without permission in writing from Danica Flynn.
ISBN: 978-1-7342012-3-9
Cover Photography: Wolfgang Zwanzger /Shutterstock
Cover Designer: Emily’s World of Design
Editor: Charlie Knight
For my Soul Sisters, thanks for letting me annoy you on the daily in the group chat!
Chapter One
FIONA
I bit my nails nervously, and this time my maid of honor, Katie, didn’t slap my hand away. For the fifteenth time, I fixed the veil on my head, but I still thought it was crooked. Deep in my bones, I knew something was off. As soon as I woke up this morning, I knew something was going to go wrong. That’s not exactly the feeling you want on your wedding day. Especially when the groom was missing.
What the fuckety fuck!
“Did he answer?” Katie asked and studied the bouquet of flowers that I was gripping a little too tightly. Her white face was tinted red with frustration, and her brown hair was starting to come undone while she raked her fingers through it in agony.
I looked down at my phone still in my hand. When I unlocked it, I saw a text from my best and oldest friend, Riley.
RILEY: Girlllll!!! I can’t believe you’re getting married today. Can’t wait to see you tonight!
A smile curled up on my lips. I was afraid he wasn’t going to make it. I knew that my fiancé was hoping he couldn’t, which was why he insisted on a wedding during hockey season. Let’s just say Eric didn’t exactly love my best friend or want the two of us to see each other all that much.
“Well?” Ellen, my bridesmaid and one of my other childhood friends, asked. With her tanned skin and perfect blond hair, I was kind of annoyed that she wasn’t as frazzled looking as I knew I was right now.
I shook my head and put my phone down. My fiancé was late for our wedding, and I couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about this. Like Han Solo flying into the Death Star bad feeling.
I only had two people in my bridal party. Well, three if you counted my mom, who was the matron of honor. Eric didn’t even want to get married, and I never pushed it because I had been happy with him, but his mom kept pushing the topic. After his dad died, he had finally asked. He hadn’t even done it very romantically. He turned to me one night, sighed, and asked, “Hey, should we just get married already?”
So charming.
I wanted a courthouse wedding, but neither of our moms’ would go for that. Somehow, by the grace of the hockey gods, we had managed to keep this wedding small, but Eric had insisted we do it in Vegas. I had never been a Vegas person or interested in gambling, so we fought a lot about it. Since he was the one who asked me to marry him, I eventually gave in.
Honestly, I would have had a better time if we had just eloped in Vegas, but we were basically told we would have been shunned if we did that. I didn’t really care for weddings; they were fine for other people, but not for me. I felt like it was a pageant for my parents, and I was honestly pissed about it. Especially since they complained about how expensive it was. Even though I told them we would rather pay for it ourselves, but Dad insisted. Irish men were so stubborn; I guess that’s where I got it from.
I chewed on my bottom lip and turned at the sound of the door opening. My mom stood there in her wine-colored dress, her dirty blond hair pulled smartly into a chignon at the nape of her neck. I was hoping for good news, but her mouth was a thin line.
FUCK.
“Anything?” I asked but couldn’t help hearing the slight hitch in my voice.
She shook her head sadly, her brow furrowing in a worried expression.
“FUCK!” I screamed out loud this time and tore the veil off my head, taking some of my copper-colored strands with it.
Mom narrowed her eyes at me. “Fiona Marie Gallagher! Language!”
I rolled my eyes but wanted to yell, “Fuck you, Mom, this is my wedding!” Yeah, that would have gone over well.
This was turning into a fucking disaster. Where the hell was Eric?
Katie tapped away on her phone. Katie was Eric’s older sister, but we had grown close over the five years I had been with her brother. I was bad at making friends. Ellen was one of the only people besides Riley who still put up with me. Scratch that; I was good at making friends but bad at keeping relationships intact. I assumed everyone would eventually abandon me, so what was the point? Why put in the work when everyone would disappoint you in the end?
“The guys brought him back to the hotel early last night. So it’s not like he’s passed out drunk somewhere,” Katie commented, but worry was still etched across her pale face.
A stone dropped down into the pit of my stomach. This was really bad.
Ellen put a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Maybe he slept through his alarm,” she tried to reassure me, but she didn’t sound convinced.
Somehow, I knew that we both knew that line was complete and utter bullshit. Eric never slept through anything.
I pulled out my phone and texted him again while Katie tried to call him for the tenth time.
ME: WTF!!!
ME: Where are you?
ME: Mother fucker, I know you aren’t passed out drunk somewhere.
ME: Answer me!
I saw Katie repeatedly saying the word “okay” into her phone, but she wasn’t looking at me. Almost like she was too embarrassed to look me in the eyes right now.
I looked back at my phone and saw the three dots indicating typing, then they disappeared and immediately came back up. Finally, I was getting an answer on what the actual fuck was going on.
ERIC: I’m sorry.
ERIC: I can’t do this. I don’t want to get married. Can’t we go back to the way things were?
ME: Are you FUCKING kidding me?
ERIC: I don’t want to marry you.
ME: Go fuck yourself. Get your shit, and get out of my apartment.
ERIC: It’s our apartment.
ME: And eve
rything’s in my name. Kindly go fuck yourself gently with a chainsaw.
I wanted to hurl my phone at the wall, but instead, I hurled myself out of the room.
“Fiona, where are you going?” Mom shrieked after me.
“The fucking bar!” I yelled back and hitched up the skirt of my ridiculous dress. I couldn’t even think of the fiasco this would cause for my parents. I didn’t care; I needed a drink.
I parked myself in front of the hotel bar in a huff. The bartender blinked at me in surprise. He glanced over my shoulder and then back at me. “I think you’re early?” he asked in confusion.
“It’s off,” I seethed. “Give me a whiskey.”
His face fell, and he nodded before getting to work behind the bar. He put a glass of whiskey down in front of me. “On the house, Miss.”
I shook my head. “Oh, no, don’t pity me.”
He pushed the glass closer to me. “I insist.”
I cocked my head at him. He was kind of cute with his spiky blond hair and five o’clock shadow. Maybe I should fuck him just to get back at Eric. Maybe it was the fact that my sex life had been lacking in the past couple months that I was entertaining the idea of sleeping with a stranger. I took the drink and downed it in one fell swoop. I looked at my phone and saw more texts from Eric.
ERIC: I was happy before, but I don’t see why we had to get married.
ERIC: Marriage is stupid. We don’t want kids.
ERIC: Fi, don’t be this way. I know you don’t want this wedding either.
I frowned but noticed my drink had been refilled. The cute bartender winked at me, and I nodded my head at him in thanks.
The truth was we hadn’t decided that we didn’t want kids; Eric had decided that and never gave me the chance to really think about it. I had been fine with that because I had loved him, but the fact that he didn’t want to go through with the wedding either meant he didn’t love me. How could I expect him to be committed to me if he didn’t show up on our wedding day? PLUS! Canceling all of this shit was going to cost a shit ton of money. I didn’t even want to think about it. My dad was going to be livid if he wasn’t already. I might need to get him a whole bottle of whiskey to apologize. Maybe even a freaking case.
I maddeningly typed out my response into my phone.
ME: AGAIN, how about you go fuck yourself, you fucking asshat? I can’t believe you did this to me. We are DONE. Have a good life, Eric!
My phone was blowing up with texts from guests wondering what was going on, but the only one I looked at was Riley’s.
ME: Don’t come.
RILEY: What’s going on?
ME: Wedding’s off. Don’t come. I’m sorry, I know it was hard for you to get here with your hockey schedule.
RILEY: Where are you?
ME: Bar.
I put my head in my hands and finished off my second glass of whiskey. I put my phone down and decided answering all those texts was not what I was going to do right now. When I pulled my hands away, my eyeliner was smudged on my hand, along with some wetness. Great, I was the crying bride left at the altar drinking alone at the bar.
Way to be a cliche, Fiona!
A glass of water and another whiskey was placed in front of me. “You want to start a tab?” the bartender asked me.
Before I could answer, a deep voice from behind me said, “Yeah, put it on my card.”
I turned to take in Riley in all his glory. He looked great in a suit, his broad shoulders and thick biceps filling it out nicely. His blond hair was tousled in that ‘I couldn’t care less’ style that meant he spent a long time on it. I’d only seen him a few times this year; with his professional hockey career and my writing career, we were both traveling a lot and rarely in the same city. But damn, he looked good today, filling out that suit tailored specifically for him. I felt heat pool in my lower belly, but maybe it was just from all the whiskey. I definitely wasn’t remembering all those times in high school when Riley’s mouth had been on mine. Definitely not.
Riley slid onto the stool next to me and ordered a beer. When the bartender handed him the bottle, that’s when he turned to me and pulled me into a big bear hug. Maybe that’s all I needed because I relaxed into his strong arms, leaning my face against his hard chest. But then I started crying again. To his credit, Riley was a good sport who let me cry on his shoulder as he rubbed my back soothingly.
It felt like an eternity had passed before I pulled away. “I’m sorry,” I offered.
He placed his hands gently on my cheeks and wiped my face with the pads of his calloused thumbs. “Don’t apologize. That dickweed should be the one apologizing. Fi, I’m so sorry. You want me to fight him?”
I slunk out of his arms and took a sip of my drink. “It’s not your fault. And on that last part...maybe.”
He eyed me cautiously and took a sip of his beer. The way he was looking at me sent shivers down my spine. Here’s the thing. Riley was kind of a player, which was fine; he could do what he wanted. But we also lost our virginity to each other in high school. Then proceeded to experiment with each other.
Okay, we were fuck buddies. So sue me, Riley was hot back then and even more so now. Seeing him here looking sexy AF in that suit had me thinking a little too much about all those times in my parents’ basement. Fuck. I shouldn’t have drunk so much whiskey in such a short time. Whiskey makes me horny.
And it was no secret that my best friend was the hottest man I had ever seen. EVER. Which might have explained why Eric didn’t exactly like him.
“So what happened?” he asked.
I sighed and took a huge gulp of my drink. “He said he couldn’t do it but wanted to go back to the way things were.”
Riley narrowed his blue eyes at me. They flashed in anger, but I knew it wasn’t aimed at me. “What the fuck?”
I raised my arms in triumph. “Thank you!”
“What a fucking asshole,” he spat out. “This douche can’t show up to your wedding but expects everything to go back to normal?”
I hung my head. “I can’t even imagine all the cancellations we have to do now. My poor parents.”
He ran a hand down his clean-shaven jaw as if he was thinking really hard about something. He had this weird look in his eye, and it made me feel uncomfortable. “Well...do you still want to get married?” he asked.
I nearly spat out my drink. “To who?”
He smirked that signature crooked grin that I’m sure melted all the girls’ panties. Mine included, but that might have been the whiskey talking.
He pointed a finger at me and then to him. “It’s Vegas, right? So let’s get married.”
“What?!?”
Chapter Two
RILEY
Her green eyes were saucers staring me down. “Are you fucking serious?” she asked incredulously.
I shrugged, but my eyes roamed down her body.
Fi was one of my oldest and best friends, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to her. Fiona Gallagher was fucking FIIINNE. With her slender frame, nice ass, and long, bright red hair, she was my dream girl. Always had been, always would be. Probably until the day I died, if I were being honest. She still made my dick stand at attention, which wasn’t something that was supposed to happen when you thought about your best friend. Even if you lost your virginity to that best friend and had already been inside her multiple times.
We were both so different now, but clearly not older and wiser if I was asking her to marry me on the spot right now. Who does that? Me, apparently.
I watched her, kind of impressed as she downed the rest of her whiskey. “Riley…” she trailed off.
I looked her dead in the eye. “Fiona.”
She glared daggers at me, and I couldn’t help but think about how cute she was when she was mad. I think my thing for fiery redheads started with the woman sitting next to me.
“You’re not serious!” she shrieked.
I shrugged. “What? You were supposed to get married tod
ay anyway! What’s the difference if it’s to a different groom?”
“A very big difference. I mean, we need to get a license and figure out—”
I cut her off, “Are you saying yes?”
Her eyes softened, and the hungry way she was looking at me made me think she was also remembering all those times sneaking around in high school. “You would seriously do this? You would marry me right on the spot?” she asked.
“Is that a yes?” I repeated.
She stared at me bemused but then nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay. Yes, fine, let’s get married. What the fuck, YOLO, I guess? Is that what the kids are saying these days?”
She was babbling, and it was so cute. We were still the best of friends after all these years, but we rarely got to see each other. Partly because I traveled a lot due to my hockey career, but also because her douchebag ex never liked me. She’d deny it, but I think he actively tried to keep us apart. The day I met him five years ago, I knew he was a little weasel, but she had seemed happy. She deserved happiness, and I guess that’s also why I suggested this foolish plan to marry me instead. I think in the back of my mind, I was hoping if we went through with this, maybe she would fall in love with me in the process. It wasn’t a very good plan or a smart one, but if she really wanted to go through with this, I was going to try my hardest to make her happy.
