Hard Pass (Saints of Love Book 3) Read online

  Four more minutes.

  “With five years under her belt, she has planned close to a thousand weddings and has earned herself the nickname of the Queen of Happily Ever After.”

  A few of the heads in front of me chuckle, forcing the headmaster to rush on.

  “If a wedding isn’t in your future…”

  “It won’t be, with her planning it.”

  Three minutes…

  “She also functions as an event planner, bringing your vision for your party to life.” Headmaster Jones nods at me with a tight smile on his face. I can’t help but wonder if he too has seen the video.

  “We’ll open the bidding up at a thousand dollars.” I shift on my feet, irritation settling in. What these asshats don’t realize, is that just over a year ago, my wedding planning services went for close to forty grand a pop. I’ve planned weddings for superstars, reality TV mongrels, even the mayor of Minnesota trusted me to plan his precious daughter’s wedding. So, so many weddings under my belt, and only a single indiscretion.

  But nobody wants to focus on that.

  Silence falls around us, the only sound is the occasional whisper, at my expense, of course.

  “Let’s remember that we’re here today for charity, folks.” The headmaster nods at the crowd. “How about five hundred dollars? Five hundred dollars for a wedding planner is a steal. The going rate for Ms. Richards services is roughly forty thousand…”

  “And a husband,” a group of women in the middle of the room mutter before erupting into laughter.

  I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been dealing with this shit for the last year. Maybe it’s because I spot my ex-husband, front and center in the crowd not even bothering to stand up and defend me. Or perhaps, it’s because I’m one hundred percent over this catty bullshit and all of the people here.

  “Your jealousy is pathetic,” I sigh into the microphone, snatching it out of the headmaster’s hands before he has the chance to silence me. “Trust me, ladies, I don’t want your husbands. And if you’re not married, I don’t want your boyfriend either. However,” I point my finger at the women in the front row, the ones who have been brave enough to talk shit the entire five minutes that I’ve been standing up on this stage. They’re doing it because they think that by attacking me, they’re being loyal to Cole, my ex-husband.

  Before all of this crap went down, we used to hang out with them, often. They look annoyed that I’m talking to them in this way, but their husbands look scared. As they fucking should.

  “You four should really check in with your husbands. If you could get them out of my inbox, I’d really appreciate it. To the rest of you, keep your money. I didn’t want to plan your parties anyhow.”

  As a collective gasp goes through the crowd, I hand the microphone back to the headmaster. “I’ll donate the five hundred dollars myself, headmaster.” I stand straight and hold my head high as I turn to march off of the stage. I make it a few steps away from the podium when a man’s voice stops me in my tracks.

  “Seventy-five thousand dollars, for the Princess.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I try to convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me. It can’t be him. He can’t be here.

  I knew that he lived in Minnesota. It would be impossible not to know, considering that his face is constantly flashed in the newspaper, his body currently plastered across every available billboard in Minneapolis. But that still doesn’t explain what he’s doing here, or why in the hell he’s bidding on me. Moving slowly, I turn my head and look out into the auditorium. As my eyes land on him, the crowd falls away, and it’s just me and him in the room. Nine years since we’ve been face to face. Honestly, it feels like a million.

  Our eyes lock, just as headmaster bangs his gavel on the podium.

  “That’s the largest bid of the night! Gianna Richards, sold, to the man in the back of the room for seventy-five thousand dollars!”

  Fuck.

  3

  Wyatt

  I jog through the crowd, apologizing profusely to each person that I knock into but continuing to push my way through. The second that the gavel slammed on the podium, Gia darted off.

  I’ll be damned if I don’t catch her.

  Being six foot six has its advantages. From way up here, I can see the top of Gia’s head as she hurries towards the exit, out of the door and into the parking lot. Once I get outside, the crowd thins, and I’m able to catch up to her right as she clicks the unlock button on a black Mercedes SUV. Her face falls the second that her eyes land on mine.

  “What’s up, Princess?” My voice is gruffer than I intended.

  She tosses her head back, sending her gorgeous mane of hair flying over her shoulder, before looking up at me. “The sky. I heard you were living here now. I was hoping that it was just a rumor.”

  “A rumor? Princess.” I wave my finger at her. “You should turn on a television every now and then. I’m on it every Sunday. The cameras love to capture my pretty face.”

  She flutters her long lashes at me, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her thick, lush lips. “I’m not much of a football fan. Watching a bunch of guys run around and smack each other on the ass isn’t really my cup of tea.”

  “Touché.” I smile down at her. “Still quick witted, I see. You look great, by the way.”

  “You gonna ask me about the weather, next?” She cocks her hip, her lips pursing.

  I throw my head back and laugh before sobering and leveling my eyes back on her. Damn, the way that she pulls my chain and effortlessly crushes my ego transports me back in time. My chest tightens at the memories that flood me. It’s fucking good to see her.

  It’s been nine years, but she hasn’t aged a bit. Her hair is still dark and long, her eyes still a fierce shade of blue fanned with thick lashes, and the curves of her body have only gotten better with age. She was gorgeous when I knew her, but now, she’s a fucking siren. A ten all day, and I’m not even being generous. She’s still easily the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen.

  One who just caused one hell of a stir.

  “So, you want to tell me what just happened in there? Because, Princess, you just started World War III with a few ladies and their husbands.”

  “They deserve it.” She shrugs, glancing over my shoulder at the people filing out of the school. “They’re all a bunch of pricks. And none of that matters, anyway. Care to tell me why you just bid seventy-five thousand dollars to have your ex-girlfriend plan your wedding?”

  She raises a brow in my direction, looking overtly annoyed by both my bid and by me. As for me, I’m still in shock over running into her again. I never have a problem finding my words, but right now, I’m rendered speechless.

  I don’t care how big of a player a guy claims to be. Every single guy can attest to one thing-no matter who you are, no matter how many women sit on your roster, for every man, there is always that one girl.

  Mine will always be Gia. We were only together for a few months, but I would still feel like this if she had only been mine for a few days.

  I fell for her fast and fucking hard. Walking away from her was like tearing a limb right off of my body. Nine years later, and I’m still not the same.

  Obviously, neither is she.

  The normal humor in her eyes is gone. Her easy laugh is nowhere to be found. Instead, her blue eyes are filled with anger and annoyance. Both emotions are directed at me.

  “I’m not doing it, by the way. If this is some kind of sick joke, Wyatt, I refuse to be a part of it. I’m going to the headmaster tomorrow and asking for your money to be refunded.”

  “Not so fast, Princess.” I take a step towards her, to which she takes a giant step back. She obviously wants to keep as much distance between us as possible. “I think the words that you were looking for were thank you, and for that, you’re welcome.” As her eyes flash, I smirk. “Thanks to me, you just won. And now thanks to you, my sist
er Willow is going to have the best fucking wedding this town has ever seen. So, what do you say? Are you agreeable to plan my sister’s wedding?”

  “You hired me to plan Willow’s wedding?” She at least sounds slightly interested, although, her voice remains monotone.

  How can she remain cool when I’m flustered as fuck?

  She’s ice cold. Subzero. Winter in Alaska in a skintight, scarlet red dress.

  She hates me.

  “Yes. Gia, listen,” I exhale slowly, tilting my head to the side. “I’m really sorry for…”

  “No.” She interrupts. “Don’t do that. I don’t want an apology; I just want to return to how we were an hour ago.”

  I’m only confused for a second, before realization dawns. She wants to go back to the part where we don’t know each other anymore.

  “You hate me, and I get it, alright?” I run my hand through my hair. “We didn’t end on good terms. But a lot of time has passed. Come have a drink with me, and let’s catch up.”

  “Hard pass, Wyatt.” She waves me off. “I have better things to do. Better people to associate with.” She slips a business card into my hand. “But since this wedding is Willow’s, the answer is yes. I’d love to plan it. Have her call me tomorrow. I can get started right away.”

  Without another glance back to me, she hops into her car and drives away. I stand there in the parking lot for a solid five minutes after she leaves, watching her car until it leaves my sight, the memories flooding my mind all at once, leaving me fucking breathless.

  Same girl. Same ache in my chest.

  Everything in my life is different and even still, not a damn thing has changed.

  4

  Gia

  Ancient History

  There are worse things than seeing your ex for the first time since he dumped you: getting run over by a mac truck, watching your grandmother kiss your principal, finding a worm in the bottom of your smoothie.

  I shudder at those thoughts as I sink into my seat in the back of the room. Welcome back to Camden Prep, folks. Home to all of the richest assholes in the entire state of Washington. I enjoyed every second of my summer spent at my grandmother’s house in California, but now I’m back and it’s time to face the music, which is the guy who broke up with me at my very own end of the year party.

  That was almost three months ago, and I haven’t seen him since.

  But today is another story. It’s the first day of school, and I can no longer hide. I’m going to have to face him. Of course, I’ve thought about this moment. What I would do, how I would act. What kind of things I would say? As long as I can make him think that I’m over him, I’ll be able to convince myself too, right?

  Yeah. Sure.

  The problem with Cole, is that I didn’t even see it coming. Things had been going so well between us. We hadn’t fought in months. We’d managed to stay together for almost the entire school year, which was a huge step in the right direction. We’ve been on again, off again since the sixth grade. The last time, I thought that we were on for good.

  Then he dumped me to concentrate on football this summer. What a fucking joke.

  I exhale, long and slow, and scan the rest of the classroom. It’s all of the usual offenders. Up in the front of the room sits Madison James. Her blond hair is straightened perfectly, her navy-blue Camden Prep sweater fitting her a bit more snugly than last year. I heard a rumor that she got a boob job over the summer. Guess that one turned out to be true.

  Right next to her sits Samantha Wilson, Madison’s other half and the wannabe queen bee bitch herself. She and I have been frenemies since first grade, and I highly doubt that our relationship status will change to just friends. She’s about as trustworthy as a sneeze when you really have to pee.

  The rest of the classroom is filled with football players, a few soccer players, and a good chunk of the track team. No one worth snuggling up to on the first day of school. I lean back in my chair and roll my eyes to myself.

  One more year, Gia. You just have to make it one more year.

  Before the ink is even dry on my diploma, I’m busting out of this place and not looking back. New York, New York, here I come. I hope you’re ready for me because I’m about to own you.

  I really have no idea what I want to do when I grow up, but I secretly fantasize about ruling the world. It just seems like New York City is the perfect place to achieve that.

  Mrs. Schiller’s heels click across the floor as she moves to the front of the classroom to take roll. Just before the bell rings, the door opens one last time, and my eyes are drawn up, to the absolutely gorgeous man hurrying inside.

  “Sorry if I’m late.” He flashes a megawatt smile at Mrs. Schiller. “I had a hard time finding the room.”

  “That’s because the doors have numbers on them, charity case. Got to be able to read to find the rooms around here. Can’t just follow the bullet holes like at Tipton.” One of the football players coughs underneath his breath, causing my eyes to snap in his direction. Rex Marshall. I immediately roll my eyes. He’s one of the biggest dicks in this entire school.

  “You’re not late.” My voice is loud enough that every head turns in my direction. “And Rex, you have no room to talk about finding anything. I heard that you can’t even find your dick underneath all that blubber. Maybe if it was bigger…”

  “Gia!” Mrs. Schillers eyes widen. “That was inappropriate!”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Schiller.” I glance at Rex out of the corner of my eye, noticing how red is face is. I just smirk. The second that our teacher turns around, I make a very small measurement with my fingers, and smile sweetly at Rex. Once he officially looks ready to blow, I turn my attention to the new guy, and point to the chair next to me.

  “This seat is open.” I flash the mystery man my most inviting smile. “If you want to sit next to someone who isn’t a jerk, this will be your only option.”

  I hear Rex mutter something along the lines of “Fuck you, Gia,” to which I calmly flash my middle finger in response. Already getting underneath a football player’s skin? Check fucking mate.

  The chair next to me scrapes across the floor as it’s pulled backwards. Once our teacher begins to take roll, I extend my hand.

  “I’m Gia.”

  The most gorgeous set of blue eyes lock with mine, causing my heart to still just a bit in my chest. Damn, he’s even more gorgeous up close. At what I’m guessing is six foot three, he’s tall, lithe, insanely muscular-and beautiful. Can I call a man beautiful?

  Fuck yes, I can. His thick, dark brown hair is longer on the top, swept off his forehead as if he’s ran his hand through it a million times today, but the sides are cut short. He obviously meant for it to look the way that it does, and quite frankly, it’s sexy as sin. His skin is golden, kissed by the Gods of the Sun, the perfect indication of a well spent summer. As he smiles, his perfect white teeth shine against his skin tone. The man is a goddamn wet dream.

  “I’m Wyatt.” Even his voice is sexy. Gruff, low, and filled with an emotion that I’m all too familiar with. Hatred for this fucking place.

  “Well Wyatt, welcome to Camden. They call us the Sharks for a reason.” I scan the room, my nose wrinkling in disgust as I glance at all of the people sharing our air. “If you let any of these assholes smell blood, they’ll eat you alive.”

  His eyes are steady on mine.

  “But not you?”

  “Nah.” I shrug. The only similarity between these people and myself is our zip code and parent’s financial status.

  “Are you here to play football?” Judging by the ripped biceps and thick shoulders, it’s a fair guess. It’s either that or hockey. He’s too big to play anything else.

  “Football.” I knew it. “I’m the new quarterback.”

  “Quarterback?” I wonder if I look as surprised as I am. Of all the positions he could have named, that one would have been the last one I would have guessed. That’s Cole’s position.

  “Interestin
g.” I nod slowly, letting this newfound information sink in. “Sounds like I’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

  “Glad you’re back, Gia.” Conner Smith calls out, high fiving me in the hallway. I was almost sad for the bell to ring. It was actually enjoyable to sit next to someone who wasn’t a Camden cunt during first hour. Someone who also happened to be sexy as hell. But even though I’m bummed to have had to walk away from Wyatt, I’m happy to see this guy. Conner isn’t like the rest of the guys here. He’s a football player, yeah. But he’s not a dick which is a rare quality around here. I smack his hand and keep moving, pushing my way through the crowd of people gathered, all grumbling about summer being over and having to return to school.

  “Girl, keep moving. Cole and company are coming up on your left.” My best friend Cecilia grabs ahold of my arm and tugs me down the hallway.

  I immediately grimace. She needs to not bring his ass up.

  “Couldn’t care less. Can’t even recall a thing about the guy. Is he doing well?”

  She squints at me, obviously trying to read through my bullshit. She does.

  “Yeah, sure you don’t remember the guy that you’ve dated on and off for the last six years. And actually, no. His football season is in the toilet.”

  “So I hear.” I beam. “In fact, I met the new quarterback today. By the way, how did you not mention that someone who looked like that moved to our school?”

  “He didn’t move here.” She informs me. “He’s here on scholarship. And for sure. That man is so hot.”

  “Who all has he hooked up with so far?” Just a single glance around the crowded hallway gives me at least ten suspects. Most of the girls in this school will do just about anything to score with one of the football players. I should know. It used to be the source of almost all of Cole’s and my fights.

  “Wyatt? Ah, no one that I know of. Cole on the other hand…” I wait for it. In fact, I knew this was coming. I’ve braced myself for it, prepared myself to hear it.