Page 14 of My Lucky Charm

“You’re going to ruin your dinner,” Raya says.

I shoot Poppy a look, and she grins at me. And I wonder if these two will ever see me as anything but the baby of the family.

“He’s going to have a lot of engagements,” Dallas says. “Press. Parties. Public appearances, that sort of thing. And given his . . . uh . . . demeanor . . .” He draws this last word out so it sounds like de-meeeea-nor, and then looks at Poppy, a bit helpless.

“He’s a jerk, isn’t he?” I say. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”

“I mean . . . he’s not the easiest guy to get along with,” Dallas says. “And he doesn’t want to be here.”

“Yeah, Poppy mentioned that.”

She chimes in. “Dallas thought maybe you could help him see some of the great things about Chicago. Change his perspective a bit. Maybe help navigate the parts he hates. You’re a people person, El. You get along with everyone.” Poppy takes the bowl of chips away from me.

“If anyone can ease him into this, it’s you,” Dallas says.

“Aw, Dallas, I had no idea you were so sweet on me.” I reach over and take the bowl back.

He thunks a huge hand on the top of my head and messes up my hair like an older brother would and steals a chip from the bowl.

“I don’t understand why this decision is taking you so long,” Raya says. “Your professional life could use an upgrade. I mean, I’m sure they love having you back at the animal shelter, but is playing with dogs really what you want to do for the rest of your life?”

I pray for a Tardis to transport me to an alternate universe. Because the last thing I want is to start another conversation about my lack of a career.

The doorbell rings, and my mother calls out from the kitchen, “Someone get that!”

“Probably my grandma.” Dallas starts to stand.

I jump up. “I’ll get it!” I need to get out of here, and this feels like a way to escape. I walk into the entryway, and when I pull open the front door, I let out a gasp.

There, standing on my parents’ porch, in the light of day, is the guy who kissed me on New Year’s Eve.

Chapter Four

Eloise

Istare.

Did I summon him here by replaying that kiss over and over in my head?

Now that I’m looking at him in daylight, I see that he’s not just good-looking. He’s devastating.

Wavy hair. Eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea. Broad shoulders.

And a scowl on his face that looks like he’d rather be anywhere in the world than standing on my parents’ front porch on a Sunday.

I manage to remember parts of the English language. “You.”

He frowns, and that’s when it becomes obvious—he doesn’t recognize me.

Fabulous. Am I really that forgettable?

“Hi, uh, is Dallas Burke here?” he asks, his voice low.

I study him. I may not like hockey, but I’ve been around Dallas and Poppy enough to know the other players on the Comets. This guy isn’t one of them. So, either he’s a long lost relative Dallas forgot to tell us about . . .

Or . . . oh no . . . he’s the new player they want me to babysit.

This is Grayson Hawke.

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