Page 77 of Mr. Swoony

Fuck, I knew it.

“Why hasn’t she been by your side tonight?” he asks.

“He fucked up.” Rowan gives me a smug smile.

Jagger turns to me, laugher bubbling up out of him. “What did you do?”

“I’m not getting into it. And she’s not my lady.”

He glances around the immediate area, then leans in. “I would keep that information to yourself.”

“She is my fucking date though.”

He laughs. “I love athletes and their alpha protective competitive side. It’s like a trifecta only you assholes are born with.”

“I don’t think you’re that different,” I grumble.

“That’s why I understand you so well. We’re one and the same.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Now, go find your lady and clear this shit up before someone steals her away from you.”

Rowan and Henry don’t say anything.

Before I can respond, Quinn, Jagger’s wife, comes by. We all take turns hugging and kissing her on the cheek, saying our hellos. Jagger is quick to put his arm around her, his hand resting on her hip in a territorial and protective way. He catches me looking at his hand, and when I meet his eyes, he’s smiling at me, nodding for me to go.

“Hey, Quinn, you’re a romance writer, right?” Henry asks. “Is it true that hockey romance is a big thing?”

Quinn laughs and nods but pats Jagger’s chest. “It’s true. There’s a big market for sports romance these days, especially hockey. But I write about arrogant wealthy playboys and the women who bring them to their knees.”

Her and Jagger’s eyes lock, and it’s obvious how much they love one another. The admiration in his gaze is something I see in Henry and Rowan all the time.

She rises to her tiptoes, and he lowers his head to kiss her. “I’m going to call the kids.”

“I’ll meet you on the balcony in a second,” he says.

She puts her hand on my bicep. “I met Eloise. She’s sweet. Don’t mess it up.”

All three assholes laugh.

“Too late,” Rowan says.

She draws back and waits for me to explain. When I don’t say anything, she hooks her arm in mine. “Escort me over to the balcony.”

“Hey, remember how you got that big salary. She’s mine,” Jagger calls out behind us.

Quinn pats my hand. “Don’t worry about him. He’s mostly bark, very little bite.”

I open the door to the balcony for her, and we walk to the railing overlooking the city. The sun has begun its descent, leaving us with pinks, oranges, and yellows in the sky.

I tell Quinn the short version of my whirlwind story with Eloise, and she listens, not interrupting at all.

“I just don’t want to be…” I stop myself because I haven’t felt this for any woman in my entire life, and I do not want to fuck this up. This thing between Eloise and me, it’s something I can’t explain. Something I’m scared of losing.

“You really like her.” Quinn faces the skyline. “Feelings are tricky little bastards. They can take over pretty quickly, and most of the time, it feels like they come out of nowhere. You met this person you weren’t expecting to, and it sends your life spiraling in a different direction.” She turns to me, resting her arm on the balcony. “It sounds like she wasn’t happy with her fiancé, and my assumption is that she feels something strong for you. That you’re giving her something he didn’t, and she wants to explore that some more.”

“But it’s only been?—”

“Time is relative, Conor. I’ve known people who fall in love in a month. I’ve known couples where it takes longer. Sometimes people are enemies at first who find themselves falling for each other.” She shrugs. “There’s a reason why there’s not one true definition of love.”

Love? Who mentioned love?

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