Page 1 of Tangled Vows

PROLOGUE

Easton

“A brawl on the ice!” The broadcaster’s voice boomed from the TV, a stack of papers clutched in his hands as his eyes lit with glee. Sports Watch had picked up the story within twenty-four hours of the incident and were eager to report on the “breaking news.” “Sources close to the Thunder are reporting that Coach Danvers and star player, Easton Walker, got into a physical altercation before practice Thursday night. The cause of the scuffle? It’s anyone’s guess as witnesses remain tight-lipped about the incident.”

I ground my teeth together, clutching the remote so hard, I was surprised it didn’t crumble in my hand. The two sportscasters appeared a little too eager to dissect my fall from grace. My hockey career was circling the drain, and they seemed all too happy to spread word to the masses.

“There’s been a lot of speculation online about what led to the fight and what will happen now,” the co-host chimed in. She glanced down at her note card, and the camera panned out as a screenshot of a viral social media post appeared next to her head. “@hockeyfanboy posted, ‘bet Walker insultedDanver’s mustache. Dude looks like Magnum P.I.’” Below that was a grainy photo of Tom Selleck next to one of my coach, and I had to admit, the two did look eerily similar. Against my better judgment, I continued to watch as the comments poured in. “@iceking1993 wrote, ‘What team do you think they’ll trade Walker to because you know they’re not kicking him out of the league. There would be riots.’”

Thatposter wasn’t too far off base. I had a meeting with the general manager this morning to finalize the paperwork. Since I hadn’t thrown the first punch, they weren’t about to kick me out of the league or officially kick me off the team. I had, however, slept with my coach’s wife, so it wasn’t like I was entirely innocent. In my defense, they were separated and presumably going through a divorce when I dipped my hand into Mrs. Danvers’ cookie jar. If I had known they would eventually reconcile, I never would’ve followed her to her hotel room after running into her at the bar, three Boulevardiers in or not. I might have been a player, but I didn’t fuck with another man’s wife. At least not intentionally.

“Fuck,” I grunted and shut off the TV before running a frustrated hand through my hair. The news of my impending trade would break in the next forty-eight hours. If the press caught wind of why I was being traded, my reputation would be destroyed. Fans would no longer root for me. I’d never be invited to sponsor or participate in charity events—which was something I was as passionate about as hockey—again. All the endorsements I had in the works, gone. No one would respect me anymore, and I couldn’t exactly blame them. I’d lost respect for myself, despite the false pretenses under which I’d allowed Jessica Danvers to seduce me.

Now I was relegated to the worst team in the league and being forced to leave my seaside oasis just outside Boston for central Virginia. At least there were a few lakes within an hour’sdrive of the city, and I didn’t mind commuting if I found the right house.

I began checking out real estate in the area as soon as I found out what team had accepted me. A quiet little spot on the lake would suit me just fine. There I could stay out of trouble and away from the public eye until this all blew over. All that was left to do was sign the contract once negotiations were final. Then I’d be on my way to Richmond to hopefully lead the newest team in the league to the playoffs.

1

SHAYLA

“Who wants shots?” I called out, swiping my clutch from the table. It was girls’ night, so we drove into the city to have some fun and unwind after a long week. I’d been waiting all month for this, and now that I'd finally found a new job, I wanted to celebrate.

“Me!” Brynlee and Haley called out in unison.

“I’m good,” Delilah said, motioning to her half-full glass.

My attention shifted to Melody who also hadn’t finished her first drink yet. “I’m trying to pace myself,” she explained, holding up a hand. She’d spent most of the last year and a half nursing her son—and subsequently abstaining from alcohol—so she was going easy on the drinks.

Blake, Brynlee’s younger sister, turned down the offer as well since her drink was almost full.

“I’ll take one,” Emily called as I slid out of my chair.

“Four shots, coming right up!”

Sidling up to the bar, I pulled my card from my purse and waited for one of the bartenders to appear. After a couple minutes with no sign of life behind the bar, I leaned across the lacquered top, looking left and then right. The pretty youngwoman serving drinks at the other end of the bar was talking and laughing with customers and completely ignoring this side of the bar. I craned my neck, leaning over further to see what held her rapt attention. I nearly toppled over the bar top when my eyes landed on the three gorgeous men with whom she was engaged in conversation. My mouth fell open as I took in their hulking forms. Broad shoulders, thick, muscled arms, and square jaws for days. Though they sat perched on barstools, I could tell they were well over six feet tall.

One man in particular caught my eye. His baseball cap was pulled low on his head shielding his eyes from any onlookers, the ends of his hair curled beneath it around his neck and ears. Dark stubble covered his granite jaw, and he seemed more reserved than his companions, slowly sipping from a tumbler of amber liquid while the others chatted animatedly with the bartender. It was as though he was trying to blend into the background, a feat that was wholly impossible with his powerful frame and chiseled features. I was instantly intrigued.

“What can I get you?” I startled at the sound of a masculine voice, and my gaze shot to the man now standing across the bar from me. He was the other bartender who’d served us earlier, just back from his break if the vague scent of cigarette smoke clinging to him was any indication. I placed my order and handed over my card.

While I waited for our drinks, I slid my gaze back to the man in the hat, sucking in a sharp breath when my eyes collided with his. He was looking straight at me, and though the upper half of his face was hidden in shadows, I could feel his stare warming my skin. He held my gaze as he gently swirled the liquid in his glass.

“Here you go,” the bartender announced, breaking the hypnotic hold the other man had on me. I took my card, slid it back into my clutch, and grabbed the shot glasses. Returning tothe table, a tingle of awareness slid up my spine, and I chanced a glance over my shoulder. He was watching me. Leaning back in his chair, his arm resting casually on the bar, he sipped his drink as though I were a show he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.

I blushed and scurried to my seat, preening under his attention. It was silly, really. I’d sworn off men for the time being, having been burned one too many times. They were nothing but trouble, and I had a bad track record for attracting the worst of them. Honestly, a man’s interest in me should be considered his first red flag.

Sighing, I settled into my chair and passed out the shots. “Cheers,” we said as we clinked glasses and downed the liquid. Warmth spread from my belly and out to my limbs. A few more of these and I’d forget all about Hottie McStranger sitting at the bar.

“Shayla,” Brynlee whispered, leaning forward across the table, “that man at the bar keeps looking at you.” Her eyes flicked in the direction of the man I’d been admiring only moments ago. I tried—and probably failed—to look casual as I peered over my shoulder. The corner of his lips turned up as he took another draw from his tumbler. My skin flushed as he watched me over the rim of his glass.

“Holy hot guys, Batman. He can’t take his eyes off you,” Haley gushed, growing giddy at the prospect. My cheeks flamed, and I ducked my head to hide my flustered smile.

“He’s way out of my league,” I proclaimed, wishing I had another drink. I wasn’t insecure—at least not anymore—but this man could be an underwear model.

“Whatever, you’re a total babe,” Emily announced. She was met with a chorus of agreements from the rest of our table.

“You should give him your number,” Melody said, giving me an encouraging smile.

---