“Cool. I’m glad Ella can make it tonight. I should probably go check on the guests outside.” I give him a nod and then head for the patio doors.
Besides, if there’s an opportunity to push Cheyenne into the pool, I amnotmissing it.
Chapter Two
Cheyenne
“So, this is it?” Garrett surveys Dylan’s backyard. He’s got that familiar look of mild disdain—the one that says everything around him is slightly beneath his standards. “I expected something a little more ...impressivefrom a hockey star.”
I bite my tongue. Dylan’s backyard is gorgeous. He’s got a spacious patio, comfortable outdoor furniture, and some type of lighting that makes the massive pool glow under the night sky. Not to mention, he’s got a view of the Atlanta skyline that probably cost him more than Garrett’s entire condo.
“It’s nice,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. “Dylan’s always had good taste.”
Garrett presses his fingers a little harder into my back, a silent reminder that complimenting other men—even the ones I’ve known since I was twelve—isn’t something he appreciates.
I wrap my cardigan tighter around my shoulders. The Atlanta evening air is crisp, but the heat lamps placed strategically around Dylan’s patio provide enough comfort to fight off the chill. I take a moment to survey the small groups gathered—mostly Dylan’s teammates and their partners—sharing laughs and drinks.
I spot Cameron Hastens, the center for the Glaciers and notorious grump of the group. A couple years ago, the guy went viral after punching a fan in the stands after a game. He’s sitting near the outdoor fireplace next to his wife, Nila, whom I’ve never met before. I’m pretty sure she was the social media manager who got him out of the PR mess. Cam’s expression softens as Nila whispers something in his ear, and I find myself smiling at their easy intimacy.
“Let’s go say hi,” I suggest.
Cam notices us approaching and stands, his tall frame unfolding from the chair. His blond hair catches the firelight. “Hey, Cheyenne. Good to see you. It’s been a while.”
I wave. “Nice to see you, too.”
“You must be Cheyenne’s boyfriend.” Cam extends a hand to Garrett. The way he says it—not as a question, but as a statement—makes me wonder what Dylan’s told him.
“Garrett Mitchell,” he replies with his professional handshake. “And you are...”
“Cameron. Cam. This is my wife, Nila.”
Nila smiles warmly at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She looks effortlessly gorgeous in jeans and an oversized sweater, her red hair cascading past her shoulders. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Cheyenne.”
I smile back. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
“Dylan’s mentioned you a lot. Says you’re practically family.”
I feel a rush of unexpected warmth.
Dylan talks about me?
“Yeah, his sister Genna and I have been best friends forever. I’ve spent more holidays with the Williamstons than my own family, I think.”
“That explains the pranking rivalry thing he mentioned,” Cam says with a hint of a smile.
“Oh, gosh.” I laugh. “Did he tell you about the spider incident last Thanksgiving?”
“He said something about making you scream so loud that his mom dropped the turkey.”
“It wasn’t the turkey, it was the gravy boat. And in my defense, who puts a realistic spider in someone’s mashed potatoes?” I’m grinning now, remembering how I’d gotten him back by replacing all his protein powder with powdered sugar.
“It’s childish,” Garrett cuts in. “Some people never outgrow that high school humor.”
My smile freezes on my face. My stomach knots.
Cam and Nila exchange a quick glance that speaks volumes.
“I think having traditions like that is fun,” Nila offers kindly.
