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CONNOR

I ’ve never been the jealous type.

I don’t get attached. I don’t catch feelings. And I sure as hell don’t sit at weddings, drinking myself into oblivion while watching some beautiful barefoot menace sing a song that is currently ruining my entire fucking life.

But here I am. Fully. Wrecked.

I tilt my glass, swallowing another sip of whiskey, but it doesn’t do a damn thing to dull the ache in my chest as Allie sways to the beat, red nails gripping the microphone while she sings the lyrics with her entire heart and soul.

She shouldn’t have this kind of power over me. But she does.

And when she hits a high note, something inside me shifts.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

The room blurs. I swear my stomach free-falls straight to the reception hall floor.

I know her performance isn’t for me.

She’s simply being Allie Payne, destroyer of my sanity, casually ruining my life in real time. Like she’s been doing since the day I first met her and nearly beheaded her with a hockey stick.

What she invokes when she sings feels fucking personal. Like she’s pulling something out of me I don’t want to give. Something I have no right to feel.

I’m Connor Byrns, left winger for the Green Mountain Avalanche professional hockey team. The cool-as-ice, always-cracking-a-joke hockey player everyone knows and loves.

I narrow my eyes. Everyone except Allie fucking Payne, that is.

I stare into the whiskey glass, wondering if there’s enough at this wedding reception to dull my pain. I snort aloud. Her last name is fitting. Payne. What I’ve been feeling since the day I met her.

With a long sigh, my mind flashes back to the moment everything went to hell, and Allison Payne stole my soul.

Shit was tense. Someone had broken into Harper’s parents’ house while it was under renovation and trashed the place.

Ford, my best friend and the man desperately in love with Harper, had called me, panicked as hell, because the front door had been left wide open. The progress the contractors had made was ruined by the vile things painted on the wall.

I gripped Ford’s grandfather’s hockey stick like I was about to start a street fight as I ran inside the house, assessing the damage. I’m nothing if not loyal. You don’t fuck with my friends—or their significant others.

Suddenly, the front door whipped open. My instincts took over and I swung the fucking stick wildly, striking first and asking questions later.

The five-foot-two brunette released a terrified shriek and ducked so the stick slammed into the door instead of her head.

“Stop!” Harper yelled. “That’s my friend!”

"Jesus Christ!" the woman yelped, crouching like she was practicing a goddamn earthquake drill. "Is it safe? Why is a hockey-stick-wielding maniac trying to decapitate me?!"

Ford immediately yanked the stick out of my hands and smacked me in the ass with it . “You need to keep your hands off this thing, jackass.”

I stared at him like he was insane. I was trying to be responsible and protect my friends from a fucking intruder and this is the thanks I get?

Harper didn’t seem impressed, either.

Blowing out a breath, I turned back to the woman I almost murdered. She was untangling herself from the crouch of doom, slowly lowering her arms from her head. Her gaze surveyed the room, looking for the culprit who nearly beheaded her. Her eyes locked with mine.

And something went through me. Something foreign that I never felt before.

I stared into blue eyes that reminded me of the Pacific Ocean on a stormy day. They narrowed on me, her lips pursing in disdain.

Oh, yeah. She’s pissed as hell.

She pointed a long, red-nailed finger at me. "What the fuck is your problem, dude?"

Excuse me?

I scowled . "What the fuck is my problem? You just waltzed through the door of a crime scene without knocking ? —"

She snorted, looking around the room. "What crime scene? Other than a broken coffee table, everything appears fine.”

“It wasn’t when we got here.” I took a step closer, drawn to her like a fucking magnet.

Lowering my voice, I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry, I nearly took your head off.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Don’t barge in like a criminal again.”

Her eyes narrowed as soon as I called her a criminal.

Fuck.

Ford immediately muttered, “Dumbass.”

Trying another tactic, I extended my hand to her, trying to mend fences. "I’m Connor."

She eyed me like I was going to pull her in and strangle her with the hockey stick.

After a long pause, she finally muttered, "Allison. But my friends call me Allie."

"Hey, Allie. It’s nice ? —"

"I didn’t say you were my friend, you hockey stick-wielding maniac."

I was officially very turned on.

I chuckled. "So, what you’re saying is, I’m adept with my… stick ?"

Allie’s lip curled in disgust. "I hope you don’t wield your dick around like that, or you’ll get it cut off."

Ford burst out laughing. "I’m shocked that hasn’t happened yet."

I cupped myself, scowling. "Leave my frank and beans alone."

Allie smirked. "Your junk is probably the size of a frank and two beans." Then she walked off, ignoring me like she didn’t just insult my manhood. Like I wasn’t even fucking there.

It was infuriating as hell.

And I knew, right then and there, I wanted her.

I was going to have her.

And nothing would stop me.

Jake and Cole cheer and clap from Allie’s performance, pulling me from the memory of the worst and best day of my life. Ford bailed early with Harper—after she spent half the night teasing him, flashing her leg under the table until he finally snapped and hauled her out of there like a man on the edge.

My focus immediately moves to her. She’s still singing and wrecking everyone inside this fucking place. Especially me.

I rake a hand through my hair, then grip the back of my neck, hoping to distract myself. But it doesn’t work.

Her eyes lock with mine, just for a second.

I stop breathing.

She looks away, and the moment is gone.

She closes her eyes and sways to the music, unaware that she just set my entire goddamn world on fire.

I exhale sharply, my grip tightening around my drink.

Jake smirks. "You need a priest, man."

I glare at him. "Shut the fuck up."

He grins. "Nah. I’m enjoying watching you unravel."

This is bad. So fucking bad.

And I can’t do a damn thing about it.