In It to Win It (Wynn Hockey) Read online

  In It to Win It is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A Loveswept Ebook Original

  Copyright © 2019 by Kelly Jamieson

  Excerpt from Win Big by Kelly Jamieson copyright © 2019 by Kelly Jamieson

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Win Big by Kelly Jamieson. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

  Ebook ISBN 9781984800176

  Cover design: Makeready designs

  Cover photograph: MRBIG_PHOTOGRAPHY/iStock

  randomhousebooks.com

  v5.4

  ep

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  The Wynn Dynasty

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Acknowledgments

  By Kelly Jamieson

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Win Big

  The Wynn Dynasty

  Bob Wynn, owner of the California Condors. Originally married to Grace Rogers (deceased), parents to Mark and Matthew with Grace. Parents to Everly, Asher, Harrison, and Noah with Chelsea Wynn. Grandfather to Jean Paul (JP), Théo, Jackson, and Riley.

  Chelsea Wynn (formerly Clark), married to Bob Wynn, mother of Everly, Asher, Harrison, and Noah.

  Matthew Wynn, owner of the Long Beach Golden Eagles. Son of Bob Wynn. Married to Aline Gagnon. Father of Théo and Jean Paul (JP).

  Mark Wynn, coach of the Long Beach Golden Eagles. Son of Bob Wynn. Divorced from Victoria (Tori) Kendall. Father of Jackson and Riley.

  Théo Wynn, general manager of the California Condors. Son of Matthew Wynn and Aline Gagnon. Grandson of Bob Wynn (with Grace).

  Jean Paul (JP) Wynn, son of Matthew Wynn and Aline Gagnon. Grandson of Bob Wynn (with Grace). Plays for the Long Beach Golden Eagles.

  Jackson Wynn, son of Mark Wynn and Victoria (Tori) Kendall. Grandson of Bob Wynn (with Grace). Plays for the Chicago Aces.

  Riley Wynn, daughter of Mark Wynn and Victoria (Tori) Kendall. Granddaughter of Bob Wynn (with Grace). Goalie coach for the San Diego Hawks, affiliate team of the Long Beach Golden Eagles.

  Everly Wynn, daughter of Bob and Chelsea Wynn. Executive director of the Condors Foundation.

  Asher Wynn, son of Bob and Chelsea Wynn. Sports reporter for Playmaker (hockey blog).

  Harrison Wynn, son of Bob and Chelsea Wynn. Plays for the Pasadena Condors, affiliate team of the California Condors.

  Noah Wynn, son of Bob and Chelsea Wynn. Plays for the San Diego Hawks.

  Chapter 1

  JP

  I should have known a Wynn family wedding wasn’t going to go off without drama.

  Didn’t think it would be me in the middle of it, though.

  Then again, it totally makes sense, because apparently, I can never be trusted to do the right thing.

  Let’s go back to last night…

  My brother Théo is getting married, but this isn’t a typical wedding (it’s the Wynn family, need I say more?) because Théo and Lacey are already married, after a quickie Vegas wedding a few months ago. My mom was so disappointed about not being at their wedding, she wanted another one, and shockingly, Théo agreed.

  So there haven’t been bridal showers or bachelor and bachelorette parties. Tonight is the first time the wedding party and family are getting together for the rehearsal at the Shore Hotel in Santa Monica, where the wedding will be held tomorrow.

  I’m standing next to Théo where the ceremony will take place. Right now the arch next to us is bare, but tomorrow it’ll be decked with flowers and bows and shit. We’re outside on a raised terrace, the beach right behind us.

  I’m the best man. Except I’m most definitely not the best man. A year ago I fucked up and screwed over Théo, my own brother. It’s taking some time for our relationship to recover, but he says he’s forgiven me.

  I haven’t forgiven myself.

  And the rest of our family hasn’t forgiven me either.

  I’ve had dirty looks, subtle shade, and outright hostility from my cousins, my aunt and uncles, and especially from my grandfather.

  Which sucks, because Grandpa is my idol.

  Bob Wynn, the King of Hockey. The man I looked up to my whole life. Until the last couple of years. He’s made some…um, interesting decisions lately. To be honest, I’m not sure what’s really going on, except I know my dad and my uncle Mark are pissed as hell at him, so much that they’re actually suing him, claiming he stole money from them.

  This makes family gatherings—like this wedding—a tad uncomfortable.

  But never mind all that…my attention is on the hot bridesmaid.

  Taylor Hart.

  I keep looking at her over on the other side of Lacey, the bride. Taylor’s gorgeous—perfect oval face, long dark hair, dark eyes, and a full mouth that’s perpetually curved into a smile. For the rehearsal, she’s wearing a burgundy dress that wraps around her body and stops just above her knees, and suede heels that match the dress.

  I catch her eye and grin, and she smiles back…a wide, glowing smile that lights up her face. She has a great smile. It’s like sunshine. Warm. Bright.

  She also has a great rack.

  She’s not here with a date. She’s not wearing a ring. Fuck yeah.

  I can’t wait for this formal stuff to be done so we can party. Everyone knows what’s supposed to happen and when. I have to hand over the ring, Lacey’s best friend takes her bouquet, blah blah blah. Now let’s have some fun.

  There are about twenty of us who move to the private room after the rehearsal, and I see there are three round tables set up. Place cards identify who sits where, and since I’m one of the first ones in the room, I quickly find my own name…and Taylor’s. She’s at a different table, but I make the switch speedy quick so she’s now sitting beside me instead of my aunt Everly. Then I head to the bar at the end of the room. Of course there’s champagne, so I grab two flutes and turn, searching for Taylor.

  There she is, just entering the room. I make my way over to her and stop. “Champagne?” I hold out a glass to her.

  Her lips
quirk up at the corners as she reaches for the glass. “Why, thank you.”

  “You’re most welcome.” I gesture toward the table. “Apparently we’re sitting beside each other for dinner.”

  She bursts out laughing. “Oh my God. Did you change the place cards?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I helped set up the tables.” She sips her wine, eyes dancing.

  “Damn.” I rub my chin, smiling ruefully. “Busted. But can you blame me for wanting to sit beside a beautiful woman instead of my aunt?”

  She shakes her head. “Your aunt is a beautiful woman.”

  My aunt Everly is only a year older than me. It’s weird, but my grandfather married for the second time later in life and had four more kids, Everly being one of them. She’s also a bridesmaid, having become good friends with Lacey. “Well, yeah, she is. But she’s my aunt. I can’t flirt with her.”

  “You’re going to flirt with me?”

  “All night long.” I meet her eyes. Hers darken, and heat slides down my spine.

  “Well, calling me beautiful is a good start.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I don’t know.” She tilts her head and studies me. “You seem a little cocky. You probably say that to all the girls.”

  I grin. “Only the beautiful ones.”

  Everyone is taking their seats for dinner, so I pull out Taylor’s chair for her.

  “Thank you.”

  I take my seat next to her. “We can get to know each other better over dinner.”

  Her eyes meet mine and she purses her lips.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? I’m a nice guy.” I lay a hand on my chest.

  “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

  “Oh no.” I groan. “Théo’s been talking about me.”

  “Well, yeah. But you also have a…reputation as a hockey player, Killer.”

  Killer. Great. “You like hockey?”

  She nods.

  “You’ve seen me play.”

  “I was at the game last year when you hit Novotny and got suspended.”

  I press my lips together, my jaw tightening. I look down at my place setting. “That shouldn’t have happened.” I lift my head and meet her eyes. “I don’t play to hurt guys. Really.”

  She nods slowly. “But that wasn’t the first time you got suspended.”

  I suck in a long breath. “True. Sometimes my emotions get the best of me. I’m working on it. Trying to do better.”

  It’s true. This year I have to show the team I’m worth keeping on the roster. Last year didn’t go so well. In a lot of ways.

  The others are now sitting at our table—six people—so we make small talk. Lacey and Théo stop at the table to chitchat for a few minutes, and then servers start bringing out salads, so they take their own seats.

  “How long have you known Lacey?” I ask as we dig into greens with blueberries, walnuts, and feta cheese.

  “Not long. Just since she moved here.”

  “You must have become friends pretty fast.”

  “Yes. We met when she helped me catch my dog. And my dog liked her, so I knew she was okay.”

  “What kind of dog do you have?”

  “Golden retriever. His name is Byron.”

  “Nice. So that’s your test of whether someone is worth hanging out with? If your dog likes them?”

  She nods, her lips quirked. “I’ve found it to be a reliable indicator. Dogs are smart.”

  “Yeah. I like dogs. We had a standard poodle growing up. He was so smart it was scary.”

  “And you know, sometimes you meet someone and things just…click.” Our eyes meet and hold again and the air buzzes around us. Yeah, I know that feeling. “When I met Lacey, right away I felt like I could talk to her about anything. She’s so…alive. Just fun to be with, yet she can be serious and she’s smart, too.”

  I nod. I kind of feel like that about Taylor. This feels so easy…and yet so electrifying. “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a speech language pathologist.”

  “Whoa.”

  She laughs. “Why? What’s wrong with that?”

  “I’m not even sure what a speech language pathologist does.”

  A server removes our plates and we sit back for a moment. I pick up the wineglass someone has thoughtfully filled with a golden wine.

  “I help children who have speech delays or disorders, language delays, sometimes swallowing or feeding disorders,” she says when the server has moved away. Her face softens. “I work mostly with kids. I love kids.”

  I’m…blown away, I guess. This is not what I expected. “Do you work at a hospital?”

  “No. A private clinic. I haven’t worked there long. I just graduated last year. You have to have a master’s degree to practice.”

  Jesus. “Where did you go to college?”

  “For my graduate degree, Seattle. University of Washington. I got my undergrad degree here in California.”

  “Six years of university?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s impressive.” I could never do that.

  “Thanks. I love it.” She tilts her head. “You must love playing hockey.”

  “I do.”

  “What do you love about it?”

  “Everything.” I give her a lopsided smile. “I love the action, how fast it is, the skills you need. I love competing. I love winning.”

  “Don’t we all.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah. Obviously, with my family, if you didn’t love hockey you’d be a complete misfit.”

  Now our meals are served…charred lemon chicken piccata served over pasta. It looks delicious.

  “There’s nobody in your family who doesn’t like hockey?” Taylor picks up her fork. “I mean, I know Everly doesn’t play hockey, but she watches the game and works with the hockey team, sort of.”

  “Yeah.” I nod and tip my wineglass to my lips. “The only ones who aren’t really involved in hockey are Chelsea—my grandpa’s wife—”

  “Yes, I know who she is.” She nods and cuts a piece of chicken.

  “And my mom. But my mom was a hockey mom, driving Théo and me to practices and games at ungodly hours, lugging our equipment around, cheering us on at every game. So that counts, I guess.”

  “And Chelsea married into a hockey family.”

  “Right.”

  “I have to admit I didn’t grow up watching hockey, but I got free tickets to a game once when I was about seventeen, and I loved it. It was so fast and fierce.”

  “Yeah.” I like it that she enjoys hockey. “Do you play any sports?”

  “I played volleyball in high school, and college.”

  “Hey, no kidding. That’s awesome.”

  “I still like to get together with friends on the beach and play some ball.”

  Every nerve ending in my body goes on alert as I picture Taylor in a bikini, jumping up and down in the sand, setting and spiking the ball. “I’d love to do that.”

  “Well, sure. There are volleyball nets right near where I live. Which is right by Lacey and Théo. We should do that sometime.”

  Sparks crackle between us. I lean closer. “For sure. That would be fun.”

  “You know how to play volleyball?”

  “Yeah.” I shrug.

  “You’re probably good at it.”

  “Eh. Not as good as at hockey.”

  “Volleyball’s not as rough as hockey.”

  “I play a physical game,” I admit.

  “Do you get in a lot of fights?”

  “Not gonna lie, I’ve been in a few. Not so much anymore. But sometimes I piss people off. And
sometimes they piss me off.” I shrug. I’ve made some mistakes, but for some reason, I want her approval. When I meet her eyes I don’t see judgment or disapproval, though. I see warmth and curiosity, as if she wants to understand. “I’m trying to do better.”

  “Aren’t we all,” she murmurs.

  We share a long look of mutual interest that makes my chest fill with heat. “Okay, I know you like dogs and kids and volleyball. How about tattoos?”

  She laughs. “Do I like them on other people? Or on myself?”

  “Both.”

  “I have no tattoos. But I like them on other people. Do you have any?”

  “Yeah. Just one, one my back.” I pause, then lean closer to ask in a low voice, “What’s your opinion on porn?”

  She bursts out laughing again. “Wow, we’re really getting to the good stuff.”

  “Just curious.”

  “Maybe we could talk about this later.” She glances around at the others at the table.

  “Absolutely.” I don’t hesitate, because I’m perfectly willing to talk to Taylor about porn later…preferably up in my hotel room, where I’m staying for the weekend nuptials.

  For a while we join in other conversation at our table, until we’re served a tiny slice of chocolate cake sitting in a pool of raspberry sauce.

  “Raspberries are my favorite fruit,” Taylor says.

  With my fork, I lift the berries garnishing my plate and transfer them to hers.

  She shoots me a startled glance.

  I smile. “Enjoy.”

  “Thank you.” She gives her head a small shake and pushes the tines of her fork into one berry.

  With dinner finished, Théo and Lacey stand at one end of the room to say a few words, thanking all of us, and then presenting their wedding party—me, Taylor, Karine, Everly, Andy, and Leo—with our gifts: gold bracelets for the bridesmaids and for the guys, a wooden box with whisky stones and a shot glass, and a bottle of Crown Royal.