Ben tugged at the light blue bow tie around his neck and tried not to think about how the tie was constricting his breathing almost as much as being surrounded by his family. The closer he’d gotten to Connecticut, the more tense he’d become. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family. He just preferred to love them from a distance. And judging by the daggers his brother had been shooting at him most of the day, the feeling was mutual. Ben was glad that after today he wouldn’t need to return until the wedding.

“You’re going to shave that, right?” His brother David’s voice was gruff in his ear, and Ben startled.

Ben ran his hands down the gray tuxedo he was wearing. “Shave what?”

“The beard,” his brother said impatiently. “You look homeless.”

And you look like a prick. “I thought only the bride was supposed to make insane grooming demands.”

“Asking you to shave isn’t insane. It’s basic decency to look presentable. Especially when you’re the best man.”

Ben let out a long sigh. He wished he could have denied his brother’s request when David asked him to be the best man. There was no doubt their mother had forced David to ask him, and it wasn’t something either of them wanted. They could barely be in the same room for ten minutes without fighting. David had four other groomsmen, and he didn’t seem to be a complete and utter dick to them at every opportunity. Surely at least one of them liked his brother enough to want to be his best man. “Fine,” Ben gritted out. “I’ll shave for the wedding.”

David scoffed. “Don’t look so happy about it.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Ben growled.

David opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by the disapproving voice of their mother. “Benjamin Henry Williamson, I know you did not use profanity in the middle of a store. You may be able to act like a barbarian on the ice, but you will maintain decorum when you are with us, understood?”

Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes, though barely. His mom approached and began to examine their tuxes in close detail.

Beverly Williamson was a regal woman who never left the house until her hair was perfect, her nails were manicured, and her outfit was coordinated. She wasn’t a particularly warm woman despite how fiercely she loved her family. But that love was shown in a way that included extravagant weddings while excluding demonstrations of overt affection. Ben couldn’t even remember the last time he’d done more than kiss his mother’s cheek in greeting. There were no back-slapping hugs amongst the Williamsons. No wide smiles or tearful reunions. Ben was simply expected to step back into his role in the family—which was that of a man who refused to grow up and get a real job—without any fuss. Sure, his parents were proud of him for accomplishing something so statistically unlikely as playing at the most elite level. But beyond that, they weren’t impressed with his choice of career. They’d supported his passion for the game when he was a child, but a game is all it would ever be to them.

“You are going to shave, right, dear?” she asked Ben.

He saw David’s smirk in the mirror and was overwhelmed with an urge to punch the fucker. “Yes, Mom.”

“Good. You look like a ruffian.”

Ben had to summon restraint from somewhere deep within him to keep himself from explaining that he paid good money every other week for a barber to trim and outline his beard. If he looked like a ruffian, he was a pretty fucking well-groomed one.

His mother studied him for a moment longer before giving her critique. “I’m still not sure about the gray. I feel like black would make Ben look less . . . boxy.”

“We’ve already planned the wedding around his schedule. We’re not going to change our color palette because of him,” David said.

Ben’s head whipped toward his brother. “Did you say color palette?” The words were out of his mouth before he could censor them. He was suddenly able to sympathize with Ryan’s Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome.

“Yes,” David replied, his over-enunciation of the word making his irritation plain. “Something wrong with that?”

Ben let an insincere smile spread over his face. “No, not a thing. And don’t worry. I’ll try to look less box-like.”

“Thanks,” his brother said.

“Not a problem.” Their tones had become increasingly hostile with each word, and at some point they’d gravitated into one another’s personal space.

His mother pushed between them. “Boys! Don’t you dare make a scene. I swear, you two are as bad as you were when you were children. Grow up.”

Despite her words, Ben and his brother continued to glare at each other, neither wanting to be the first to concede. And as Ben looked into his brother’s whiskey-colored eyes that very much resembled his own, he knew Beverly was wrong. They weren’t as bad as they’d been as children. They were worse.

David was four years older than Ben, and Ben had idolized him in that annoyingly clingy way only little brothers could accomplish. And while David had acted irritated by Ben’s perpetual presence, Ben knew he’d secretly loved the worship. There had existed a harmony between them: an invisible set of lines that neither would ever dream of crossing.

When Ben had begun to outgrow his brother’s shadow, those lines had become blurred. But it had been David who’d obliterated them completely when he’d betrayed Ben’s trust. And with them went every shred of affection or tolerance. Now all that was between them was something that very closely bordered on hatred. The realization that there was a very good chance that not only did Ben despise his brother, but the feeling really was mutual made Ben break eye contact and step back. “I need some air,” he mumbled.

His mom called after him, but he didn’t care. The tailor also tried to stop him, but Ben didn’t give a shit. He’d already paid for the damn suit, so if he wanted to leave the store while it was full of pins, then that was his right.

Ben threw open the door, hung a right, and walked about a hundred yards before he turned down an alley. Letting himself lean against a brick wall, his head drooped forward as he pulled in a few deep breaths. He couldn’t take this shit. People in his hometown had never understood him—never understood how dedicated he was to something no one ever thought held a future for him. Well, one person had, but that person had betrayed him as much as his brother had. Pulling out his phone, Ben scrolled through the names in search of a friendly voice. Someone who’d be happy to hear from him.

His brain immediately went to Jace and Gabe, but for some reason, he didn’t click on either of them. Instead, he selected another and hoped like hell she answered. When the call connected on the fourth ring, and the throaty sound of Ryan’s voice said, “Hello?” Ben’s body immediately sagged in relief.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s me. Ben.”

“Hey there, sugar daddy. What’s going on? I thought you were with your family this weekend.”

Ben suddenly realized he had no real reason to be calling. What could he say? Hey, sorry I called, but I got all emo over the fact that my brother hates me and I needed to talk to someone who likes me even if I’m paying them to do so. He’d been vulnerable enough for one day, so he decided to deflect instead. “Did you just call me ‘sugar daddy’?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“No idea. Sounded good at the time,” she explained.

“But sugar daddies are old,” he griped.

“Well, if the shoe fits . . .”

“Hey. I’m not old.”

“You’re probably a little old.” He could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke.

He’d never been so happy to have someone fuck with him. “How is someone a little old?”

“You tell me. You’re the one who fits in that category.”

Ben laughed, and the genuineness of it was cathartic. “I’m twenty-nine. That’s not even a little old.”

“Oh God. Are you one of those people who’s been twenty-nine for ten years?”

“No. I’m one of those people who’s really twenty-nine.”

“Oh. Maybe it’s the beard. It’s camouflaging your youth.”

Ben immediately sobered at the mention of his beard, though he tried to keep his voice light. “Not you too. I’ve gotten enough shit about my beard for one day.”

Ryan hesitated for a second. Maybe his voice hadn’t been as carefree as he’d thought. “Why are people hassling you about your beard?”

“I don’t know. Why were you?” he teased, to steer the conversation back into the realm of fun.

But Ryan didn’t bite. “No, really. Who’s giving you crap? I wanna know so I can set them straight.”

“Set them straight about what?”

“About how fucking hot you are with a beard.”

It wasn’t what he’d expected her to say, but it was exactly the kind of thing he’d needed to hear. After a morning of being torn down, he needed someone to boost him back up a bit. “Tell me more. About my hotness, that is. I need to be sure I can effectively argue my side.”

Ryan’s laughter filled the line and washed through him like a balm. “Oh, sugar daddy. I don’t even know where to start.”

* * *

Ryan had almost immediately noticed the strain in Ben’s voice, and hearing it had made her distinctly uncomfortable. She didn’t like the heavy feeling in her chest at the thought that someone was responsible for making him sound that way. The ridiculous urge to punch that person in the face wasn’t altogether welcome either.

Despite her trying to tell herself this wasn’t her problem—Ben was her employer, after all—the fact that he had called her when he clearly needed to talk made her want it to be her problem. Maybe it was because he’d treated their situation as more of a growing friendship than a business arrangement from the very beginning. Or maybe it was because Ben was such a genuinely nice guy who treated even escorts well. Maybe it was a combination of both of those things. Whatever it was, it made Ryan want to be the person to cheer him up. And if stroking his ego was what he needed, it wouldn’t be much of a hardship to accommodate him.

“If I have to pick somewhere, let’s start with your muscles.”

“What about them?” he asked.

“They’re hot. I wanna see them.”

Ben chuckled. “How do you know they’re hot if you haven’t seen them?”

“I have a very active imagination. And your shirts are usually really tight in the best possible ways.” She knew that comment shouldn’t surprise him since she’d accidentally made a similar one at the diner the night they’d met.

Ben scoffed. “They are not. My shirts fit perfectly.”

“Oh, they’re perfect all right. Don’t change a damn thing about them.”

“Noted,” Ben said with another laugh.

“And then there are the dimples.”

“You can see them through the beard?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said with a dramatic sigh. “They’re amazing.”

“They’re dimples. It’s basically having divots in your face.”

“No. It’s really not,” she argued. “Face the facts, Ben. You’re gorgeous. I know it’s difficult to accept, but you must accept the things you cannot change.”

“Are you quoting Alcoholics Anonymous right now?”

“Yes,” she replied simply. “It’s the serenity prayer. Is it working? Did it bring you serenity?”

He hesitated as if he were actually thinking it over. “No. But you did.”

The words were soft and genuine, and she instantly flushed at the acknowledgment. “Well, good. I’m glad.” Ryan fidgeted on the couch to get comfortable. She wasn’t entirely sure what to say. They’d seemed to move past whatever had been bothering Ben initially, and she was hesitant to bring it up again. However, avoiding the obvious wasn’t really Ryan’s forte. “You sounded kind of bummed when you first called. Wanna talk about it?”

“Honestly?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Not really.”

Ryan laughed. “Fair enough.”

“I don’t . . . it’s not that I don’t want to share it with you or whatever. But complaining about my family makes me feel like a bratty teenager. I’m a grown man. I shouldn’t let them get under my skin so much.”

“You can’t help how you feel, though. And family usually gets under our skin the quickest because they’ve had the most time to learn which buttons to push.” When Ben didn’t say anything, Ryan forged on. “I want you to know that you can talk to me if you need to. You’re probably one of the least judgmental people I’ve ever met. I’d be happy to return the favor. Anytime. So keep it in mind.”

Ben remained quiet for a moment longer before speaking. “I will. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Okay, enough about me. What are you up to?”

“Um . . .” Ryan scrambled to think of something to say, since what she’d been up to was googling how to be an escort. Her search had been . . . interesting, but not useful in any constructive ways. “Messing around on the computer.”

“Looking at anything fun?”

Ryan pursed her lips before responding. “Yup.” At least her answer was honest.

“You’re being very evasive,” he said, a tease clear in his voice.

“I am not.”

“You are too.” He drew in a loud breath. “You’re watching porn, aren’t you?”

“What? No! Of course not.” Jesus Christ. They’d had a touching moment and now he was accusing her of watching porn. Ben’s mood had swung more in the past ten minutes than when her mom had said she and her boyfriend were giving orgies a try. That was an interesting conversation.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone watches it.”

“I am not watching porn.”

“Then what are you doing?”

She suddenly wished she could go back to talking to sullen Ben. “I’m googling you,” she finally said.

“Why?” Ben sounded both curious and wary.

Ryan quickly clicked on images and typed Ben’s name into the search bar. A page of pictures loaded. Goddamn the man is sexy. “I’m seeing what you look like without a beard so I can give a more thorough analysis.”

“Oh yeah? Come to a conclusion?”

Ryan scrolled down the page. There were action shots of Ben on the ice, photo shoots, magazine spreads, red carpet photos, and casual pictures. She wasn’t sure which she preferred. There was no doubt the man could wear the hell out of a suit, but there was also something appealing about Ben in jeans and a T-shirt.

A throat clearing interrupted her analysis. “You okay over there?” Ben asked, his voice trying, and failing, to conceal a laugh.

“Yes,” she replied, drawing out the word to convey annoyance she didn’t really feel. “I’m just trying to be thorough.”

“Well, the suspense is killing me. What’s the verdict?”

“Inconclusive. You’re impossibly attractive with or without facial hair.”

Ben laughed. “You’re really good for my ego.”

Snorting, Ryan replied, “I somehow doubt your ego needs much help.”

“Nah. Everyone can use a little boost from time to time.”

They were quiet for a minute before Ben sighed. “I should get back. My mom is probably getting ready to send out a search party.”

“Sounds serious.”

“You have no idea. Oh! That reminds me. You’ve saved me from my parents’ minister’s daughter. So thank you for that.”

“Should that make sense to me?”

“My mom was trying to set me up for the wedding with some girl I haven’t seen since high school. And my memories aren’t all that favorable. I’ve never been more relieved to have a date for something in my life.”

Ryan almost blurted out that it wasn’t a date as much as a business meeting, but she thankfully caught herself before she voiced the words. “I’m glad I could be of service.”

“Yeah, me too. I’ll talk to you when I get back in town, okay?”

“Sounds good,” she replied.

“Good. And Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Ryan knew he wasn’t thanking her for being his date to the wedding this time. This appreciation was much more heartfelt, and it made her happy in ways she’d rather not think too hard about. “You’re very welcome.”