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PROLOGUE

Alice

M usic thumped as Alice sat, absentmindedly shredding a napkin to pieces. Beautiful women and handsome hockey players danced on the floor nearby, but she sat alone. A part of her would have loved to be out there, but more often than not, this is where she found herself, especially in moments like this. She was at the Magic’s charity gala because her father was the head coach. One might think that would give her a sense of belonging, but nope, she was still on the outside looking in.

She was here on behalf of a program she volunteered with that helped kids in behavioral therapy express themselves with art. She had talked the therapist who ran the program into offering a slot for their silent auction. While the slot was just a basic art class, it would help to get funding and spread awareness for this incredible program.

As the music turned into a slow song, she watched from her empty table as the group coupled up and danced, lost in each other’s eyes. Not wanting to be jealous of these people, she got up from the table, and after being stood up, she didn’t particularly want to watch it.

She made her way over to the table where the silent auction sheets sat. The art class had several signatures, so it wasn’t a total bust. After one more drink, she would get her fortune told by the little Scottish woman in the corner before she snuck out early.

As she turned, she bumped into a tall, strong, solid body.

“I’m sorry,” said a deep voice.

Her eyes dragged up from his shiny black shoes to his tux pants strained against his muscular thighs, up to his broad chest and perfectly fitted jacket, then to his handsome face, which was pulled into a concerned expression.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she said, aware of the heat creeping up her chest.

“Taylor Campbell,” he said, reaching for her hand.

“Hi, I’m Alice Wagner,” she said, taking his hand.

It was as if a spark of electricity shot through her at his touch. She needed to get herself under control because she’d been around guys like Taylor her entire life, but she still found herself tongue tied.

“Oh, Coach’s daughter, right?”

Alice nodded.

“Nice to meet you. I was just about to sign up for the silent auction. Any suggestions?”

His genuine smile did little to calm her, but there was something about Taylor she’d always liked. He shied away from the media more than the other guys did, and he had always been kind to her.

As she looked into his deep brown eyes, that kindness glinted, and he cocked his head as if waiting for her to say something.

Right, they were attempting to have a conversation.

She gave her head a quick shake. “Well, if you like art,” Alice said, “there is someone who does art therapy with kids. He helps kids with behavior problems express themselves. He’s offering some fun classes.”

He gave a small smile and a shake of his head. “Sadly, there’s not an artistic bone in my body, but that sounds like a really great program. Do you do similar work?”

Did she do similar work? No, she was currently working for a realtor, setting up his social media, but she was sure she would be fired. But that was a problem for another day.

“No, I just like to support him.”

“Good to know. Well, I’ll take a look. It was nice to meet you, Alice Wagner.” He tipped a small nod.

Alice couldn’t help the excitement bubbling inside of her.

“You too,” she said and quickly turned.

The fortune teller’s table was open. Perfect timing. As she approached the table, the redheaded woman smiled.

“Hello there, lass, would ye like me to read yer cards?” she asked in a thick Scottish brogue.

“Yeah,” Alice said.

“Have a seat.” She gestured to the chair across from her.

Alice pulled out the chair and sat.

She set down a well-loved deck of cards. “Cut the deck, and let’s begin.”

Alice did so and felt another spark of energy, like when Taylor had taken her hand.

The woman merely grinned at her like the Cheshire Cat. “Let’s see what the cards have to say, shall we?” She turned over the first card.

On the card before her was a blindfolded, bound woman surrounded by eight swords. “Ahh the Eight of Swords,” she said with a pensive look. “I see, in the past, a lack of control has plagued ye. Sometimes, lack of self has caused confusion and anxiety.”

Alice’s eyes danced between that card and the woman. That was a little too real for her liking.

“Let’s take a look at yer current state,” said the woman, flipping over another card. On this card, a hand was holding a single wand high in the sky. “Ahhh, the Ace of Wands.” She looked at Alice with a raised eyebrow. “But, as you see, the way it lays is reversed. This is the card a fresh start, and with it being reversed, it would seem this is something yer struggling with.”

Okay... once again, ouch. This woman really seemed to know what she was talking about.

“Now, shall we see what the future holds for ye?”

Alice nodded, although feeling apprehensive.

The woman flipped over the third card. The card showed a beautiful woman sitting on an ornate throne wearing a crown.

“The High Priestess. She’s one of my favorite cards,” she said with a wink. “She represents trusting yerself and yer intuition and tapping into the divine wisdom that exists in all of us. I imagine if ye can find a way to right the reversed Ace of Wands, the High Priestess is in your future. Find a fresh start and trust yerself, and ye will be as powerful as the High Priestess.”

Alice tilted her head, taking in the cards. While she wasn’t sure she could do it, it was time that maybe she would try to finally get her life under control—her control, to be more specific.

“What do ye say, lass? Do the cards ring true?”

“A little too true,” she answered with a rough chuckle.

The woman gave a knowing nod and a mischievous grin. “I’ve heard that a time or two. My name’s Bridget. If ye ever have any questions, come find me.”

“Thank you,” Alice said, standing from the chair. She made her way to the bar to grab some water before she headed home.

Still in her head over her card reading, and for the second time that night, she walked right into someone. Her eyes tracked up the strong, masculine frame, only to find it was the same man from before.

“Ahhh,” he said with a kind smile. “You again.”

With a sheepish laugh, she said, “Sorry, I clearly need to look where I’m going.”

“No harm done.” He took her in. “I like your hair.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said as she pushed it behind her ear.

She’d gotten some purple streaks put in, and she’d heard about it from her mother all night.

“Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer came on, and she swayed to the music.

“Would you like to dance?”

“What?” she said, almost positive she’d misheard him.

“I just asked if you would like to dance, but if you?—”

“I’d like that,” she blurted.

He guided her out to the dance floor, and she was aware he was just being nice. Even still, there was something magical about this moment, when his hand slid around her waist and took her hand with the other.

Another jolt of electricity shot through her. A small gasp left her mouth as she looked up into his calm deep brown eyes that seemed to be trying to figure something out, like she was a puzzle to be solved.

“So, you mentioned knowing the artist. Are you an artist as well?”

“No, I work for a realtor, but I enjoy art. I like to make things. I made these,” she said, pointing to her dangling star earrings she’d made with glitter and resin and small crystals. “But I’m not like an actual artist or anything. I’d love to be, but... I’m sorry, I’m rambling.” She looked away from him.

“Your earrings are beautiful.”

“Oh,” she said, peering up at him. “Thank you.”

“What other kinds of art do you like to do?”

“I love to draw and paint, but it’s just a hobby, really.”

She was trying not to get lost in the kindness in his eyes and the sweetness of this song. She was someone who got carried away with her feelings easily, and this romantic moment threatened to give her a lifelong crush on an unattainable man. Something she’d done more than once in her life.

“I’d love to see your art. I bet it’s colorful,” he said as he toyed with the end of her hair as the other pulled her closer.

She nodded because her art was definitely colorful, but she couldn’t have properly articulated words if she tried.

The music came to an end, but they stood there on the dance floor, taking each other in.

“Hey, Taylor, come here for a minute,” called a voice.

“Excuse me,” he said. He gave her hand a small squeeze before dropping it.

She nodded and watched as he walked away. She could stay, maybe she should stay. It was still early. But she decided she would end the night on a positive note before too much damage was done and slipped out into the night.