Declan (Wild Men Book 8)

by Melissa Belle

  “May?” I resist the urge to shout, forcing my voice to stay level. “Dad, we both know Mom read romance novels as much as she read the Bible. And I’m a grown woman who’s worked at this company since I was in high school. I do not need a man to help me run things.”

  “No, you do not,” he agrees. “But your mother was very clear when we drew up this contract. She wanted you to have a man to stand beside you. She was worried if you took over the company without a work-life balance, you’d tip too far in one direction and never find your way back. Working solely for a company’s goals is no way to live. Life’s too short.”

  My eyes smart with tears, but I blink them back. “Dad, Mom made an error in judgment. She got caught up in the idea of romance or she would never have stood for something like this. It’s ridiculous.”

  “The same stipulation was in her contract.”

  I stare at him. “Seriously?”

  He nods. “She wasn’t allowed to take over the business from her father until she got married. It worked out well for her, and so she felt right about having the same rule established for you. It’s been there since you were a child. After she passed, I never changed it.” He pauses. “I thought about changing it, to be honest. But then, I decided to keep it. I couldn’t undo her wish like that. It would be dishonorable.”

  “I understand,” I say because I do. “But Mom took over the company years ago! Times have changed since then.”

  “The need for happiness hasn’t. You do need balance in your life, Mia. Ever since we lost your mother…” His eyes get watery, the way they always do when he mentions the woman who was the rock in our family and whose absence nearly broke both of us. “You’ve been focused solely on work. Other than your friendship with Jamie Beth, you don’t socialize much or just have fun. This company is your life. And that worries me.”

  “Please.” I hold up a shaky hand, begging him silently to keep it together. “I’m reeling. It’s personal who I marry and when. It shouldn’t be tied to any business transaction. And Dad, I’m not even dating anybody.”

  “If you need suitors, I’d be happy to have Henry do a background check on some young men.”

  “Dad. Good God, no.” I slash my finger in the air, drawing a clear line. “That’s not necessary.”

  He taps the contract on my desk. “Well, then, I guess you have some work to do.”

  “I don’t have to love him, right?”

  He narrows his eyes. “I would prefer that you do. I know your mother would have preferred that you do.”

  Mom. “I know she would have,” I say slowly, “but she’s not here for me to argue with.”

  Dad lets out a deep breath. “No, she’s not. I know how much that hurts.”

  I follow him with a deep breath of my own. “If she were so adamant about marriage, I don’t understand why the requirement is for only one year.”

  “She and I both agreed not to make it longer than one year. Not because we wished for your marriage to be that short but because we didn’t want to be cruel. We wanted you to have an escape clause in case things weren’t what you wanted. However, I know you. I trust you to choose your husband wisely. And hopefully, to love him as deeply as I loved your mother.”

  Oh, shit.

  “I want you to marry a good companion, someone you trust.”

  “And at the end of a year of marriage, the company is mine?” I confirm.

  “Yes.”

  “Even if my husband and I tragically divorce…”

  More narrowing of eyes.

  “Yes,” he concedes. “Even then.” He picks up the contract and flips to the back. He tugs near the binding, and a handwritten note appears in his hand.

  He hands it to me. “I think you missed something.”

  I look at the note I’m holding. It’s in Mom’s handwriting.

  “Just in case,” Dad says quietly. “She wrote that for you in the event that she wasn’t here when you received this contract. It’s like she had a sixth sense that she might not be around…”

  I blink hard as I read her note out loud.

  My darling Mia,

  A partnership that is pure and true is a wonderful thing. I want you to walk through life with someone who will love and respect and cherish you. I was lucky with your father, and I wish that same luck for you. Taking over a generational business is a lot of pressure and a lot of work. But I had your father by my side to support me—in good times and not so good times—and that made everything better.

  This stipulation in your contract will no doubt anger you (and I know you will try to get around it somehow) but I wouldn’t have put it in if I didn’t believe in its benefits.

  So promise me that you’ll try, sweetheart. You’ll try to honor this stipulation with a man who’s deserving of you and how incredible you are. I trust you will make the right decision for you.

  All my love always,

  Mom

  I fold the note up and put it into my purse.

  “I’ll think about it,” I tell Dad, who’s standing across from me silently. “But I’m also going to try to find a loophole.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Dad kisses my cheek. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  I give him a businesslike nod and show him to the door.

  After I shut it behind him, I sink to my knees and groan.

  A freaking husband? How can I possibly find a guy who’s willing to marry me for a year? Because there’s no way I’m waiting for the real thing. That will just take way too damn long. And I’ve waited long enough already to take over my family’s company.

  I sit down at my laptop and scroll through the Internet. I wonder if I should join an online dating site. Maybe I could find someone who’s interested in…

  I burst out laughing.

  Right. Instead of asking a guy if he wants to spend the night together, I’ll politely inquire if he’d like to marry me for a year. No biggie.

  Like I always do when I need to talk to someone other than my dad, and especially when I need to vent about my dad, I text the one person I can always count on.

  My uncle writes back immediately, asking me to come to the arena in a half hour.

  Then my phone buzzes with a second text.

  Drinks? I’ve had a shitty day.

  Jamie Beth, my best friend, must be reading my mind.

  I text her back with a simple, Hell yes.

  Chapter Three

  Declan

  Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

  Penalty over.

  And I’m finally free.

  I break out of the penalty box and barrel across the ice, straight for the melee taking place behind the net.

  Tex Williams, my co-captain, shoves the defender in the chest, but the massive lineman doesn’t budge.

  Tex has him tied up, but he can’t get the puck away. I wedge my stick into the fray and poke the puck free from the boards.

  I take off down the ice, staying on my skates despite a strong hit across the shoulder blades. A defender rushes at me, but Max Storm, Jared’s fraternal twin brother, comes flying across the ice and shoulders him aside. Between Max and Jared, the guy has no chance of catching me as they sandwich him into the boards.

  I flick the puck over to Arch Morrison, our starting left-winger. Arch advances it up the ice before sending it back to me just to the left of the net.

  I switch my stick from my right hand to my left and hammer the puck in one motion. It takes off like a line drive, just past the goalie’s outstretched arm, narrowly squeezing inside the crossbar and over the red line.

  “Goal!” The play-by-play guy screams over the loudspeaker.

  My teammates mob me as the buzzer sounds and time runs out. We won the game by one goal, and we’re now firmly in first place in our division.

  I skate off the ice, my gaze automatically going to the stands.

  I know where my father sits if he comes to town. But he’s not there. Nobody is. My brother and his wife are awa
y, and my cousins weren’t able to make it tonight.

  I swallow down the feeling of emptiness in my gut as Coach Tucker gives me a high-five on my way to the locker room.

  Reporters mob me while I make my way down the hall to the lockers. I manage to avoid taking any interviews. But Ed Pells, the most obnoxious journalist in hockey, finds me as soon as I reach my locker.

  “Great game, Wild.” His microphone’s already in my face, and the camera behind him won’t let me tell him to fuck off like I want to.

  So I flash him the fake smile I’ve learned to give to the media, and I thank him.

  “You seem to be playing with a lot of emotion this year,” Ed states. “Does this season have any extra significance for you?”

  I fight a grimace, managing to keep my expression neutral. “Every season is significant to me. I’m a professional athlete who wants to win.”

  “But the rumor is this may be your last year with the team, possibly the league,” Ed presses on. “What do you say to those rumors?”

  I grab my towel out of my locker and look straight at the camera. “I say no comment.”

  “My sources tell me you may be going into ownership,” Ed continues to press me. “Any truth there?”

  Brushing past Ed and the cameraman, I ignore all of the other journalists crowding around me. I lock my gaze forward and push ahead through the throng. When I reach the sanctuary of the showers, I duck inside and turn on the water, letting the hot spray run over my sore back.

  Every year is different. Every team is unique. But this year, what I privately believe will be my last, is special. It’s also terrifying. Because when I retire, I’ll be jumping off a cliff into the great unknown.

  I’ve never known anything other than ice hockey. Since I was a kid, I used it for everything. To compete, to get out my pent-up energy, to make friends, and to try to get my father’s attention. That last one never panned out the way my little brother, Cameron, thinks it did. He believes I got all the gold stars from our dad and he didn’t because he never wanted the pros badly enough.

  But that’s where he’s wrong. Getting genuinely positive attention from a man like Tyler Wild isn’t possible.

  I close my eyes, letting the water beat down on my shoulders.

  When I make it back to my locker, the reporters have cleared out, and Arch and Tex are still standing by their lockers on either side of mine.

  “Yeah, I said yes!” Arch laughs, his mop of wavy dark hair a stark contrast to his Irish-blue eyes and pale skin. “Do I look stupid to you? We’re talking about the cover model for Sports Magazine!”

  Tex pulls off his t-shirt and rolls his eyes. “Arch, you’ll fuck anything that walks. Do you and this model have anything to talk about?”

  “Who cares?” Arch says. “I don’t plan on doing much talking tonight.”

  Jared and Max join us on their way back from the showers. “I didn’t know you knew how to have a decent conversation,” Jared throws over his shoulder at Arch.

  “Ha, ha.” As everyone laughs, Arch just shakes his head at us. “You assholes are just jealous.”

  With my towel still wrapped around my waist, I reach into my locker for my clothes. As I pull on my dress shirt, I snort. “Seriously, Arch, you need a reality check.”

  But he points at me. “What’s going on with you? You’re in a shitty mood for someone who scored the winning goal.”

  I button up my shirt, not looking at him. “I’m fine.”

  “Was it Ed?” he says in a low tone. “That guy’s always been a prick.”

  “He kept the damn microphone in your face forever,” Tex agrees. “I would have wanted to pop him one.”

  “And get suspended,” I say dryly. “I’ll pass on striking a journalist. Even if he practically asks for it sometimes.”

  “So he got you going?” Arch asks me.

  I shake my head. “He was an ass, but no. I’m just in a bit of a funk tonight. I’ll snap out of it.” I don’t tell them what I’m truly pissed off about—that if I want to be an owner like I’ve dreamed of doing once I hang up my skates, I need to find myself a wife.

  “We’re all heading to Lucky Cowboy for a drink before Arch bails,” Tex says to me. “Join us. Jared and Max could use a night out.”

  Jared and Max just ID’d their father’s murderer down in New Orleans. Between them and their two brothers, Hunter and Liam, who play hockey for the New Orleans Fire, the Storm brothers have been through hell. I run my hand down my face and exhale.

  Nothing like my friends’ real problems to bring me back down to earth and make me realize I need to fucking quit complaining about a damn marriage requirement.

  Plus, I could use a few hours of downtime. “Okay.”

  Mia

  I take the elevator down to the corporate parking garage. I use a pin to secure my skirt before I hop on my motorcycle and reach for my helmet. Being that it’s still March in Montana, I probably should be driving my car, but nothing makes me feel free like riding my bike does. And I need to feel free right now.

  My phone rings before I’ve put on my helmet.

  “Hey, JB!” I say. “Are you already at Mulligan’s?”

  “Actually, I’m not at Mulligan’s,” Jamie Beth says over music in the background that’s so loud I can barely hear her.

  “Well, where are you?”

  “You know Lucky Cowboy? It’s that new place by the arena. My coworkers dragged me here. The place is kind of cool!”

  I laugh. “I’ve never been there, but I know where it is. I’ll see you shortly. I have to make a quick stop first.”

  I hit all green lights as I make the trip across Missoula to the hockey arena and the man I pray can help me.

  It’s a quiet, dark night with a full moon, and I breathe in the cool air. When I reach the arena, I peel into the employee parking lot, park my bike in the guest spot my uncle told me would be open, and hurry inside to meet Uncle Ned.

  “Mia.” With his blue eyes and short stature, my mom’s brother looks so much like her. “The game just ended—you have perfect timing, my dear. Come into this room here so we’ll have privacy. I would have invited you to my office, but this was easier since I was already at the arena.”

  We step inside a bare, white-walled room filled with nothing but a couple of metal chairs and an old wooden desk. Uncle Ned takes one chair, and I sit in the other.

  “I’ve got a huge problem,” I begin.

  “So you texted.” He steeples his fingers together. “Tell me what it is so I can help you solve it.”

  This is why I love him so much. My uncle is always on my side, no questions asked.

  “You won’t believe what my mom did,” I begin as I hold out the contract for him to read. “You’re an attorney. You tell me if there’s a loophole.”

  He scans the document. Then, he scans it again. He rubs his eyes at one point and then rereads several pages for a third time.

  When he finishes, he looks up, his face expressionless. “This is pretty ironclad,” he admits.

  I run my hands down my face. “Ugh! I had a feeling you’d say that.”

  “Well, your mother didn’t often make mistakes.”

  “No. But she and my dad were obviously trying to ruin my life with this whole ‘marry for a year’ nonsense.”

  Uncle Ned pats my knee. “We both know your parents have always adored you. You’re their only child. In their twisted way, they probably thought they were doing this out of love. This is how your mother married your dad, correct? Because of the same stipulation? I remember that well.”

  I nod. That truth does not make me feel any better. “So if there’s no loophole, then I guess I have to get married. And since I’m completely single, that’s a problem. But I’m going to find somebody. Because like hell will I let this contract stop me from reaching my dream.”

  My uncle smiles sadly. “You’re so like your mother. Strong-willed, determined—she’d have been so proud of you.”

 
; I fight the tears that always threaten when anyone brings up Mom. She was my best friend, and I miss her every day. Whoever said it gets easier with time was lying.

  My uncle furrows his brows in concern. “Mia, are you sure you want to go through with this? Having an arranged marriage for a year?” he confirms.

  I take a deep breath. “Yes. Because I’m sure that what I want is on the other side of this nonsense.”

  “And you have no prospects at the moment?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be here. I’m prepared to marry someone I don’t love. As long as he treats me with decency and respect, how hard can it be?”

  Uncle Ned smiles. “Aunt Gloria would disagree with you.”

  I laugh. “But you and Aunt Gloria are so in love.”

  “That we are. But marriage isn’t easy, my dear, no matter how you enter into it. It should be taken seriously.”

  I nod in assent but mostly to convey that I heard him. I don’t necessarily agree with him. Marrying someone for the sake of my personal gain isn’t exactly a holy union.

  My uncle says, “Give me twenty-four hours, and I’ll get back to you.”

  He stands up.

  I do too. “So that’s it?”

  He pulls me in for a quick hug. “That’s it. Don’t worry, Mia. You’ll get to run the company you’ve been wanting for so long. We won’t let this contract stop you.”

  I step toward the door. “Thank you so much, Uncle Ned. I still won’t be able to sleep tonight, but just knowing you have a plan helps me.”

  “Go out and have some fun,” he suggests. “If I didn’t have so much work to do, I’d offer to take you to a late dinner.”

  My uncle loves his job, and that’s why he’s one of the best sports agents in the country. He’s represented the top players for years. But like my mom, I never cared much about sports, and whenever he invites me to a hockey game, I politely decline.

  “No worries,” I say. “I’m meeting Jamie Beth for drinks.”

  “Don’t drink and drive,” he warns me.