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Shadows beneath ocean waves.

Ice hiding fire and sass.

This woman is a fucking puzzle whose pieces don’t fit together.

It’s intriguing as shit—I want to simultaneously muss her up and make the pieces come together to reveal the picture beneath.

I want to push.

I want to find out why her voice broke when she mentioned family, why she’s not close to her brothers and dad.

What her mom died of and how old she was.

But the plane is descending.

And I’m about to introduce my fake fiancée to my family.

I need to focus.

Eyes on the puck.

ELEVEN

Violet

I don’t know what I expected when we descended the plane’s stairs at the small, private airport outside of Ace’s home town.

But what greeted us, would have been very low down on my list of guesses.

There’s a gaggle of them.

A full fucking gaggle of tall, built men and beautiful women and, it only takes one glance to recognize that they’re all Ambroses.

There’s the hockey contingent—easy to spot because they tower over the others, all but Ace’s youngest brother, Lex, anyway, who’s thinner and shorter than the rest of his siblings. Still easy to spot, though, considering he holds himself like the typical cocky hockey player.

Flow in full effect.

Mustache not quite grown in enough to pull off.

Thick ass thighs, and if I was a betting woman, I would say there’s a gorgeous ass adorning the back side of his body.

The women are an array of everything from slender and fragile to curved and stocky, but it’s still easy to pinpoint those of Ambrose stock, especially when I glimpse Ace’s mom, when I see her chestnut hair shining in the sunlight, her strong jaw, and her deep brown eyes.

She’s beautiful.

And I can instantly see how she contributed half of the genetic material of the Ambrose brothers.

“My baby!” his mom squeals, running forward and launching herself into Ace’s arms. He softens, just slightly, as she hugs him tight. “It’s been far too long. Are you eating enough?” She pulls back, hands coming to his face and turning it side to side. “I don’t think you are. You’re practically skin and bones.”

And muscle.

Though, thankfully, I don’t say that out loud.

I just watch as Ace smiles softly, shakes his head, and says, “I’m sure you’ll remedy that soon enough.”

“She’s already got the spread set out for the golden child,” a voice says and I glance to the side, immediately peg it as Ace’s older brother, Oakes. My spidey skills prickle, stomach immediately churning, knowing that tone intimately.

He’s jealous of Ace.