CHAPTER 1
CALLUM
The second I stepped into the cold air at the rink, it felt like coming home. There was nothing like that frosty scent that carried the sharp bite of rubber, ice, and something frying at the concession stand.
I grinned and inhaled a deep breath. My mind flooded with memories of a time before I’d swapped my skates for a suit.God, I wish was back in college.
With the familiar clatter of sticks hitting pucks in my ears, I strode further into the rink. Nothing would ever be the same as playing Division One back at Cal Poly, definitely not the beer league I was in now, but I still looked forward to coming here every week.
It was better than not playing at all.
Gage was already there when I walked in, sitting on a bench, lacing up his skates while keeping a close eye on the kids currently carving up the ice. My best friend, wingman, and the only guy I really trusted not to rat me out after a night of bad decisions, looked up at me with that same, easy smirk he’d had since college.
“Any bites on your wife ad, Casanova?” he asked, nodding at my phone in my hand like I was some lovesick puppy who couldn’t let go of the possibility.
I snorted and shook my head. “Not a one. So far, all I’ve heard are crickets. I haven’t even had aHey, you spelled something wrongresponse.”
He chuckled, deep brown eyes filled with genuine amusement over my current predicament. “Do you think maybe you picked the wrong paper? Some obscure, local rag that mostly features architectural developments in the community and business news isn’t exactly a reading magnet for prime dating material.”
“That’s exactly why I chose it.” I crossed my arms, watching the last group of kids finish their practice. “It seemed like a smart way to weed out the gold-diggers and the socialites. They wouldn’t be caught dead with that kind of website in their browsing history.”
He smirked. “It’s also a real smart way to find the weirdos who have nothing better to do than have that kind of website in their reading list.”
I groaned and raked a hand through my hair. “Those are fighting words coming from a guy who traded hockey for the broker life but still can’t really let go so he coaches kids on the side.”
“Shots fired,” he joked, throwing his palms up in surrender. “Paternal pressure makes you cranky, man. Cranky and mean.”
“I know.” I sat down hard beside him and slid my duffel bag off my shoulder, bending over to fish out my skates. “Harlan is all over me these days, playing the good old dad and calling his son at least three times a week. There have been days when I wasn’t even sure he remembered my name, butnooo. Now that I don’t want to hear from him, it’s ‘Callum, you have to getmarried,’ and ‘Callum, we’ll never take you seriously unless you bring home a wife.’ It’s ridiculous.”
Gage smirked again. “Careful, your middle-child syndrome is acting up again.”
I rolled my eyes instead of flipping him off since there were so many kids around. “Let’s just say I’d give any car in my collection to go back to flying under the radar. Hell, I’d dive off the fucking radar if I could, but he ain’t having it.”
A few months ago, Daddy Dearest had decided it was time for my brothers and me to get serious. Apparently, we couldn’t do that unless we were married, so naturally, that meant that despite us all being single—happily so, at the time, I might add—he’d started putting the screws to us one by one to find fingers and put rings on them.
Sterling had fallen first. The oldest. Next in the line as the Westwood and Sons CEO when dad retired. He’d taken it like a champ, following Dad’s orders as efficiently and immediately as ever.
As soon as he and his brand new wife had announced they had a bun in the oven to boot, the mighty Harlan Westwood had turned his sights on Jameson, the second oldest. Jamie had gotten lucky. After trying to fight Dad’s ultimatum for all of about five minutes, he’d rekindled an old spark that had been smoldering for years, and Sadie had been his wife a month later.
Assholes.
Now, it was my turn, and ever since my brothers had gotten hitched, the pressure had been nonstop.Dad sure as hell remembers my name now. It’s been barrels of fun. Big ass freaking barrels.
“Maybe the best way to get off his radar is to just do it already,” Gage offered as if it was a brilliant, novel idea.
I scoffed. “And by just do it already, you meangetmarried?”
“Yep.” Skates laced up, he finally stood and grinned down at me. “Let’s face it, man. You’ve never had any shortage of takers, so go out, flash that famous Westwood smile around a little bit, and take your pick.”
“I wish it was that simple.” I really did, but this was the rest of my life we were talking about.Nothingabout this was simple, easy, or evenrightas far as I was concerned. “It’s not like I can go up to some girl in a club and ask, ‘Hey, can I buy you a drink? Would you like some ice and a ring with that?’”
What made it even more difficult was that I’d never been the relationship type. Arranging a marriage in modern-day San Francisco was weird enough, but doing it when you didn’t know the first thing about what it would take to actually make it work?
Torture.
I’d been a serious dog in high school, and frankly, I’d been even worse in college. I’d had a reputation for sleeping with anyone who so much as looked in my direction and I’d earned it. Loud and proud.
Now, at twenty-eight, I still wasn’t sure if I was ready to settle down, but the game was getting old and I was tired of running in circles. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean I magically knew hownotto play it.
