Her Greatest Mistake (Greatest Love, #1)

by Hannah Cowan

When I finish, he’s already leaning against the passenger door, scowling down at the tire and the fancy silver rim tucked inside.

I risk a glance across the cab and suck in a breath. Rich, vibrant green eyes are waiting for me, and I fluster at the intensity behind them.

Yeah, we’re somewhere alright. Somewhere we never should have ended up. In the land of strangers.

Twisting my upper body so I can properly face him, I say, “That’s the last time you speak to me that way, Maddox. You’re allowed to be hurt and angry with me, but you don’t get to treat me with disrespect. You’re not that guy, and I won’t let you become that guy all because of my father. Don’t give him that power over you.”

She would always lend an ear when I needed to vent, and I would have done just about anything to hear her problems in return. Fuck, I would have solved each and every one if it meant she was happy.

She’s completely focused on her task, but I’m only focused on her and our close proximity. Fuck, my breaths turn shallow when she leans closer and drops an innocent hand on my thigh—just a finger length from my knee—for balance.

“Will it look weird because you don’t date ever or because you don’t date girls like me?” she asks, almost shyly. Her question takes me by surprise in the worst way. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean . . . I know I don’t exactly have the figure of a hockey girlfriend. And that’s fine—I just don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“No. That is not what I meant. At all. And there’s nothing wrong with the way you...

She giggles, and the sound makes my heart skip.

“Thank you, Curly Fry.” He slips an arm out from beneath the blanket and pulls on one of my tight curls for good measure. The other eye opens as he grins, flashing me two rows of gleaming white teeth.

A flash of self-consciousness has me adjusting my loose T-shirt back over my stomach when I feel it start to ride up. My leggings are a size too small, and the band keeps rolling down when I sit, leaving me feeling too exposed.

Too real

I stare at our joined hands, and my heart flutters. Just like it always does. But I also ignore it—like always. “Do you think I’m pretty? Like, in a woman way, not a best friend type of way.”

“No. I don’t think you’re pretty,” he replies tightly.

“You’re not simply pretty, Braxton. That would be a goddamn insult. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Cut that shit out right now,” he growls.

“So that I can look at you before I go to bed every fucking night, Braxton. You’re not simply pretty. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. Never think otherwise.”

“Yes, sweetheart. A movie.”

“I still can’t believe that you’re back. When Dox told me you were, I kicked him in the shin and told him not to lie to me about you,” she says.

“Nah, you can’t hide that shit from me. I saw it the minute you two got in the same room together. You loved her back then and probably still do now.”

I move her in front of me as we leave the dressing room, and my eyes zero in on the name and number on her back. It looks perfect, like it was meant to be there. My dick hardens instantly, and I quickly adjust it before she notices.

“Do you know what the worst part of all of this is?” “What?” My skin clams up. “That after everything, I still can’t find it in myself to hate you.”

She’s crying right in front of me, and fuck it all to hell, but I can’t stop myself from reaching for her. I slide one arm around her back and another across her front in order to wrap her up and pull her into a tight hold.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say. Then, I pull the door open and shout, “Your favourite person has finally arrived!” “Cooper’s here?” my cousin Jamieson yells, looking around the backyard, bypassing me entirely.

“You look like the sun,” I blurt out. My eyes widen. “I mean, the dress. It’s yellow like the sun . . . sunshine. It’s bright. Yeah.”

“Are you scared you can’t pull it off?” I ask.

His eyes tighten at the corners, and suddenly, he’s right in front of me. I’m poking the bear, but I feel the furthest thing from scared.

“I can pull it off. Can you?” he counters, and the next second, he’s swiping his thumb across my bottom lip and sucking in a pained breath. “Lean up for me, Curly.”

The moment our lips are a hair apart, I bump my nose to his and whisper, “Make it believable, Dox. Kiss me like you love me.”

This feels anything but fake, and when Maddox’s chest rumbles with a deep groan, I release a whimper into his mouth. He swallows it eagerly before parting my lips with his tongue and delving deep.

“You’re telling me. When I saw her for the first time, I nearly fell to my knees. She’s always been beautiful, but shit. She’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

“I wear the four P’s proud, baby girl.” “Four P’s?” Collins chokes. I lean my head back against the beanbag and meet his stare with cold eyes. “Yeah. Protective, possessive, proud, and packing.”

Braxton Heights will be my girl one day, and when she is, there’s no way I will ever let her go. We’ll be forever.

“Your mom has her hopes up about this. Maybe that’s my fault too.” “She thinks it’ll become real, doesn’t she?”

“You know how she is. Your sister too. They’re two peas in one matchmaking pod.”

“Have you shrunk since the last time I saw you? I swear you used to be taller,” Jamie teases her. I want to rip his smile off his face and stomp on it.

“Keeping tabs on me, sweetheart?” I let my shoulder crash into his, relishing in the groan he releases as he drops his hand from her arm. Good, I hope it hurt. Sweetheart my fucking ass.

“You’re a lot more possessive than you were before,” she informs me, as if I don’t already know that.

“Possessive? Oh, baby. You haven’t seen possessive yet.”

I gasp when he removes his arm from my shoulders and drops a hand to that same thigh, his thumb drawing a line along the hem of the skirt. His palm is warm, so, so warm as it rests there, not moving, just squeezing ever-so-slightly.

“There isn’t a chance in hell that I wouldn’t be all over my girlfriend if she looked as good as you, Braxton,” he says, voice deep and growly.

“My lap,” he repeats, hands smoothing down his thighs in a silent invitation. I swallow hard, staring at his fingers, lust making my thoughts drift. Yes, sir. Anything you want.

“Do they make you uncomfortable?” His voice is gravel. “No,” I reply, shocking myself. He shifts in his seat, that ghost of a touch on my waist becoming a firm one. “Fuck.”

I twist to knock his shoulder with mine, but the move has my ass brushing something hard and thick. So thick. Oh, my God.

“Look, Marco. Braxton is my girl, yeah? She’s precious to me. Can I trust you to take care of her when I’m not here?”

“Are you pussying out on me, Maddox? Is the big bad hockey player too scared of a pair of printed scrubs to make a bet?” His deep green eyes soften at the same time he whispers, “There she is.”

Before she has a chance to prepare herself, I’m moving, leading her back into the office with my confident steps and kicking the door shut behind us. I don’t stop moving until her ass hits the desk, and she gasps, staring up at me with wild eyes.

“It’s staying on, baby. It’s just in my way,” I murmur, breathless.

But after years of friendship, I assumed that maybe I was misreading you.” “Misread me? Braxton, I have a tatt—”

Even in a pair of baggy sweatpants and one of my sweatshirts, she manages to take my breath away.

And for her to think she misread me all those years ago? Fuck. That. I’d been planning my proposal since I was twelve. Her thinking she wasn’t my entire universe for the better part of my life is just offensive. To both her and me.