Page 115 of Lace 'em Up

I look from his fiercely protective expression and over to Stacy’s mulish one.

She’ll create a scene.

In an instant.

And…dammit.

I love Molly’s. I don’t want to be embarrassed to come here, don’t want to be remembered as the woman whose sister threw a hissy fit and ruined everyone’s lunch and delicious apple treats.

I want…

To have peace and enjoy some yummy food with my friends, with the man I care about.

Because I don’t have forever with him.

Because…

It’s fake.

Which means…I need to corral her outside, let her get her anger out, and then find a way to get rid of her.

Yay.

So. Much. Fun.

Biting back a sigh, I reach up and cover King’s hand with my own. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’ll talk to my stepsister.”

His eyes flash to mine.

And the way our stares connect—and hold—give Stacy her opportunity.

She breaks his grip on her wrist, jerks forward and clenches my hand tightly enough that I gasp in pain and try to pull back. “What. The fuck. Is that?” she snaps.

The ring.

She’s looking at the engagement ring.

King’s engagement ring.

The fake one.

But…she doesn’t know that.

Shit.

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Her,” King growls, grabbing Stacy’s finger and pulling it back far enough that she cries out and immediately releases my hand.

Her eyes are fucking terrifying.

They promise retribution and?—

King’s already on his feet, stepping between us, Cam and Rome flanking him. A wall of hockey players coming to my defense. The big brothers I never had. The man I never had either.

And, perhaps for the first time since my dad died, I feel safe, protected, and…wanted.

In a way that even my fairy godmother Jean-Michel can’t compete with.

My throat goes tight, eyes stinging.

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