Page 23 of Tripped Up

“That doesn’t make him your brother-in-law,” Henry says. “He’s your sister’s brother-in-law.”

Gallagher shrugs. “He’s family.”

“He’s an overprotective golden retriever with the brains of an orange cat,” Elsy mutters. “Nice guy, but kind of dumb.”

“Sounds like most hockey players, then,” Henry says.

“No. Not in my experience.” She glares at me again. “He’s actually a good guy.”

Because in her estimation, I’m not.

“My brother just got traded to Boston last summer,” Henry says. “Maybe you know him. Sebastian Henry? He’s the goaltender.”

Elsy nods slowly. “He’s part of the tandem with Jake, who’s dating my friend Rachel. I’ve met Seb’s girlfriend, Audrey. Isn’t she related to the coach?”

“His daughter, yeah.” Henry grins. “Aren’t they sickening?”

“Kind of,” she admits.

“So you’re, like, in with the hockey teams,” he says. “What brings you to Austin? And would you like to adopt another hockey team?”

Her small smile dies, her eyes belying her pain. “No.”

I don’t know all the details, only that she was asked to leave the Boston Symphony after a confrontation with her ex. Bex was cagey on the details, insisting it wasn’t her place to tell me. Somehow, I don’t think Elsy will spill her deepest, darkest secrets to me anytime soon.

“No?” Gallagher grins at her. “You want to move to Colorado?”

“Definitely not,” Elsy says. “I came to Austin because I had to leave Boston, but now that I’ve unpacked, I’m not moving anywhere anytime soon. And no,” she says to Henry, “I don’t want anything to do with the hockey scene here. I have no ties to this team. That’s the way it’s going to stay.”

nine

Elsy

Wyatt is wearing a tuxedo. This is not a drill. Tall, wide, built, gorgeous Wyatt Whitney is standing on my doorstep in a fucking tuxedo, holding a corsage with a deep-red rose at the center. His strawberry-blond hair is slicked back away from his ruddy, freshly shaved face.

His mouth hangs open, his face slack as he stares at me. “Elsy…”

My stomach falls. Fuck. I can’t wear this dress. Clearly, it was a mistake. I thought being a little adventurous with the sequins would be a fun change, but I should have put on my boring, boxy black dress.

“Let me go change,” I mutter, turning away from the door.

“Don’t change,” he blurts out. “Don’t ever change.”

It’s my turn to stare at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just—let’s go. Are you ready?”

I grab my shawl and my clutch in one hand, my violin in the other. My hand shakes as I go to lock the front door and gently, his touch so light on mine, Wyatt takes the key and locks up. He grabs my hand in his, pressing the key to my palm, and then slips the corsage onto my wrist.

“What’s this?” I touch the flower petals of the three roses. They’re soft as silk. The dark red looks good against the navy blue of my dress, with pops of white baby’s breath and greenery to fill out the corsage.

“I thought you needed it,” he says with a bashful little grin. “You look great.”

“Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

I mean, it’s not a hardship to look at him on a good day. Add in the tuxedo and the heady cologne… whew, it’s a pretty powerful package.

Then again—a tuxedo on any halfway good-looking man is enough to turn up the attraction level. That Wyatt is already a solid ten on a good day…