Page 14 of You’re The One (Saints Hockey #2)

FOURTEEN

I can’t concentrate as Summer chatters beside me while we stroll around the vineyard, a cameraman following us closely.

I shouldn’t have said anything to Mia about her drinking. Why do I even care? Probably because I told Logan I’d keep an eye on her. And alcohol poisoning isn’t something he’d approve of. Not that wine tasting is anything serious—she’s sipping Pinot, not doing keg stands at a frat party.

Still, if I know Mia, telling her not to do something is the fastest way to guarantee she’ll do the opposite.

She’s going to drink more just to spite me.

So now, instead of focusing on the woman next to me, I’m trying to calculate how many samples Mia could have downed in the last forty-five minutes.

“So, hockey.” Summer snaps me out of my thoughts. “Did you always know that’s what you wanted to do?”

“Pretty much.”

“Did either of your parents play? Or was it just something you picked up?”

“Nope, they didn’t play. But when I told my dad I wanted to, he was all in. He’s not really a sports guy, but he made the effort for me.”

“And your mom? Is she supportive, too?”

Talking about my dad is easy, but my mom is another story. It’s a topic I like to avoid if I can help it. My feelings about her are saved for my dad and my therapist. Not even my closest friends know our history, and I’m not about to open up about it to Summer, as nice as she seems.

“Yeah,” I say, because it’s easier than the truth. I shift the conversation back to her. She tells me about her music career, how she’s an aspiring country singer from Nashville, and how her parents and older siblings are her biggest fans.

When I glance down, her glass is empty, and I figure it’s as good an excuse as any to head back to the group.

“Need a refill?” I ask, fully aware of the irony. I’m trying to warn Mia off drinking while encouraging Summer to drink more.

I know I’m being a bit over the top about “protecting” her.

Even though I’ve never had a drop of alcohol, I’ve always had a complicated relationship with it, which makes it harder to be rational about the matter.

It’s never particularly bothered me when the person I’m dating or my friends drink.

And it doesn’t bother me that Mia is drinking, per se.

I just want her to be safe. It’s my responsibility to make sure she is.

Summer nods, and we start the walk back up the hill.

A laugh that’s unmistakably Mia’s reaches me the moment the bar comes into view.

She’s sitting at a picnic table with the rest of the women…

and Bodhi. I asked him to keep an eye on her, not shadow her every step.

I didn’t want to ask him to do it in the first place, but I figured that him flirting would be better than Mia overdoing it.

But of course, here he is, settled comfortably between her and Victoria, the other three women sitting across from them.

When we reach them, I ask Bodhi to move so Summer can sit, then pull up a chair and take the seat caddy-corner to Mia.

There are more tasting glasses scattered across the table than I can count, but there’s also a picked-over charcuterie board, so I’m hopeful she’s at least eaten something. I bite back the urge to ask and risk setting her off.

A carafe of water and a stack of glasses sit in the center of the table. I pour and pass them around, making sure to hand them out to everyone else before offering one to Mia. No reason to give her an excuse to accuse me of singling her out.

Out of the corner of my eye, I sneak glances at her, careful not to make it obvious. She actually looks like she’s having fun. It’s hard not to stare at her wide smile— only because I don’t see it often.

“Okay, Mia, it’s your turn. Fuck, marry, kill: Dominic, Henry Cavill, Ryan Reynolds,” Victoria asks, continuing the game Summer and I interrupted.

Without missing a beat, Mia says, “Kill Dominic.”

I cough. “Charming.”

“Marry Ryan Reynolds,” she goes on, ignoring me completely. “He’s funny and hot.”

“Hey.” I gesture to myself. “I’m both of those things.”

“And I guess that leaves Henry Cavill to… you know.” She swirls the wine in her glass, skipping the water entirely. “Although, if I could get a reverse harem situation going, I’d marry Henry, too.”

“You’re on a first-name basis now?”

She side-eyes me, but the rest of the girls laugh. Luckily, my ego doesn’t take too much of a hit with most of the others choosing to marry me.

As the chatter continues, I realize I should probably check in with Mia.

See if she’s learned anything new. I’ve been keeping my distance since paddleboarding, even choosing my own one-on-one this week instead of asking for her input.

I feel good about my choice, but a part of me still wants her opinion. Just to be sure.

“Hey, Mia, can I grab you for a sec?”

Her eyes flick to mine, like she just remembered I existed. “Forgot you were there,” she confirms, wobbling to her feet, then follows me through the indoor bar.

When she stumbles over nothing, I don’t hold back. “How much have you had to drink?” comes out sharper than I mean it to.

“Why are you up my ass? I don’t see you interrogating the rest of the girls about their drinking.”

At least she hasn’t had enough to dull her bite.

“I don’t see them stumbling around like a newborn calf.”

“Seriously, Dominic, I’m going back. We don’t need this forced ‘bonding’ time.”

She spins on her heel, but I catch her elbow and steer her forward. The fresh air and movement will do her wine-addled brain some good.

Her feet scramble to match my clipped pace. Tension pulls tight in my arms as I fight the urge to toss her over my shoulder. My fists clench and unclench, uselessly trying to shake it off.

I lead us out the front door and down the path to the right. According to the guy at the front desk, it’s a five-minute walk.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

I don’t answer right away.

“Hello?” she presses.

“To see the alpacas,” I mutter, only now realizing I’m still holding her elbow. I let go.

That earns me a smile—bright, genuine, and way too effective. It thaws my mood instantly, warming something in my chest just knowing I put it there.

But it’s short-lived. She wipes it away like it never happened, falling back into her uninterested default.

Still, for all her sharp edges, I can’t shake the itch to crack through. To see what’s underneath. Get to the soft, gooey center. Okay… not my best analogy, but the point stands. I’m not giving up until she breaks.

She makes it nearly the whole walk before asking what I’ve been waiting for. “What do you want?”

“Just checking in. Wanted to see how things have been at the house? With the women?”

She glances over her shoulder, and I follow her gaze.

Bodhi, who’s a few strides behind us, gives her a thumbs-up.

He already let me know our attempt at subtlety was pointless, but apparently, the team thinks this whole thing is “brilliant” and told me to keep it going, just without the cloak-and-dagger routine.

TV production is weird, man.

“Honestly? I think you’re a bit paranoid… and I would know.” She lets out a dry huff.

My brows pull together. “What are you paranoid about?”

“Maybe paranoid isn’t the right word.” She squints, searching. “Just… worried about life.” The wine’s definitely loosening her tongue. This is the most she’s opened up to me in all the years I’ve known her, yet she’s barely said anything at all.

“What are you worried about?” I press, but she waves it off.

“Doesn’t matter. The point is, the women are all really great, Dom.”

The casual drop of my nickname zings through me. I don’t call her out. If I play it cool, maybe she’ll keep doing it.

“So, you think I made the right call, choosing Emma this week?”

Her gaze drifts to the view. There’s a long pause before she finally answers.

“Yeah. I think you two have a lot in common.” She looks back at me, her light blue eyes shinier from the wine. “You’re going to really like her.”

I nod. That’s the plan.

“Should we head back?” Her voice is softer than usual, a little unsure.

“Don’t you want to see the alpacas? Summer said you wouldn’t shut up about them on the ride here.”

So, I might have also used my time with Summer to get intel on how Mia’s doing. Ryan did tell me to keep an eye on her.

“Well, yeah, but?—”

“No buts. Let’s go.”

Of course, she can’t just let it go. “Wouldn’t you rather spend this time with one of the girls you actually like? I know Victoria is dying to get more time with you.”

I rake a hand through my hair. “I’ll spend time with them later.”

“Aren’t we heading back to the mansion soon?”

“Mia. Stop. Please. We’re already here.” We probably shaved a few minutes off the walk thanks to my frustration-fueled pace.

“Whatever. I’m just trying to be a good matchmaker.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t dock points.”

She smiles up at me again. As much as I hate that she overdid it with the wine, I can’t bring myself to curse whatever makes her smile come easier.

We meander along the fenced area in mostly comfortable silence, stopping when we reach a cluster of alpacas near the border. They’re weird creatures. All legs and fluff with beady, judgmental eyes. All right, maybe I’m imagining the judgment, but still.

One of them locks eyes with me for a solid ten seconds. For a moment, I think, okay, maybe they’re kind of cool —right before a wet glob of something smacks me right on the chin.

The fucker spat on me.

I’m still frozen in disgust when I register Mia’s breathless laugh. The kind that’s mostly gasps for air and almost no actual sound.

“I’m glad you find this funny.” I wipe the spit off my chin and swipe my hand toward her face, just to mess with her.

She yelps and dodges me, darting a few feet away. “Looks like you’re the one getting a spit nickname,” she wheezes between giggles.

I follow, just close enough to make her squeal again, though I’ve got no plans of sharing the alpaca germs.

She slows, clutching her stomach, still trying to catch her breath. “Oh, I don’t feel so good,” she mumbles.

The happiness fades from her face, and I step in closer. Her cheeks, flushed a moment ago, are drained of color.

“Are you okay?” I place my clean hand gently on her back, hoping it comes off as soothing.

She nods slowly. “Yeah, I just… don’t think wine and running mix well.”

“All right.” I steer her toward the bench near the fence. “Let’s sit for a minute. Deep breaths.”

“Don’t you dare say I told you so,” she mutters.

“I would never.” I raise my fingers in a Scout’s honor gesture.

“Can I lie down?” she asks, her voice quieter this time. “I hate feeling sick.”

“You want to head back? You can ride with me.” I glance over at Bodhi, who’s already nodding.

“Yeah, get her back, and we’ll wrap up here,” he confirms.

“Can you have the car pick us up here so she doesn’t have to walk?” I request, then turn back to Mia. “Or I can carry you?”

She’s already shaking her head before I’ve finished the sentence. “Not a chance. You’re not strong enough.”

“I’m offended.” I grin, but she doesn’t return it, clearly still feeling like shit.

When the car pulls up to the curb, I guide her with an arm around her waist. “Let’s go.”