Someone in bright blue and yellow walked past one of the windows, and her attention automatically turned there, attracted by the colors. A man was dressed as a football player, his ass encased in tight shiny pants, pads highlighting muscular thighs that needed no additional definition. His calves were sculpted perfection, and his butt was like two perfect globes of muscle that flexed when he shifted his weight. The blue and gold of his costume was ridiculously bright, but he carried it well enough. She studied the broad back and the massive shoulder pads as the man in the helmet talked with a pretty blonde slutty Strawberry Shortcake. The back of the jersey read WARRIOR across the shoulders and 01 as the number.

She stared at the jersey, not comprehending, as the pink-masked Strawberry Slutcake leaned forward and grabbed the football player’s athletic supporter. Well, damn. The party hadn’t been going on for long and already the football player was scoring. Ha.

Edie’s eyes widened in horror as the football player turned slightly and she could clearly see a familiar profile and a pair of green-gold eyes. Shit. That was Magnus with his junk being cupped by another woman.

No wonder he hadn’t responded to her texts. He had something better already waiting for him.

Fuck him. Time to leave. Ignoring the stab of hurt, Edie jerked up from the stone bench she sat on. As she did, her peg leg clattered to the cobblestones.

Strawberry Shortcake turned and looked right at her.

So did Magnus.

Edie froze in place, unable to move. She watched as recognition moved over Magnus’s face and he pulled his helmet off, revealing buzzed hair and two black streaks of paint under his gorgeous eyes. He looked shocked to see her standing there. As she hesitated, Strawberry Shortcake stepped closer to Magnus. Intimately closer.

And that got Edie moving. Her jaw clenched. She shot him the bird—Shortcake, too—and then turned and limped down the stairs and into the nighttime gardens, leaving her peg leg behind like some sort of wackadoo Cinderella.

“Edie,” Magnus called behind her. “Wait up.”

“Fuck you,” she called after him, hurrying as fast as her leg would carry her. The gardens weren’t lit, but ahead she could make out a thick hedge and headed for that. If the gardens offered any sort of protection for an aching heart, she’d take them.

There was no way in hell she was going back into that party. Not after she’d thrown herself at Magnus for the last few weeks.

It was clear he didn’t want her.

Chapter Nine

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This party was going from bad to worse. Magnus tossed aside his helmet and jogged down the stairs, trying to see where Edie had gone. For a woman with a bad leg, she’d sure disappeared into the bushes fast. He paused, scanning the dark grounds of the expansive gardens.

As he did, the blonde who’d blatantly fondled him a few moments ago came up from behind him and looped an arm around his waist. “Where are you going, babe? We were just starting to have fun.”

He pried her arms off of him, fighting the surge of irritation at her forwardness. Before meeting Edie, he probably wouldn’t have given a shit about the blonde. He’d have taken her upstairs, fucked her like she wanted, and then never called her again. If he did that now, though, Edie would know. Edie would care.

She’d be upset.

And for some reason, that tore at him. It mattered that Edie would be hurt. Hell, she was probably already thinking the worst of him after he’d shut her down in her text messages earlier that week. She wouldn’t understand, and because Bianca and Levi weren’t going to confess their little games, she’d be hurt. She’d think the problem was her.

He didn’t want her to think that. He didn’t know why, but it bothered him.

So he plowed after her, into the bushes. Behind him, Strawberry Shortcake gave a huff of irritation, but she didn’t follow. Good.

The hedges in the massive garden seemed to be blocking his sight unless he went deeper in and left the party behind. Fuck the party anyhow. “Edie?” He called out as he stormed through the gardens, looking for a striped top and a woman with an awkward gait.

No answer. Of course not. He continued forward, moving around circular hedges and thorn bushes that grabbed at his clothing, swearing when he ran into a decorative fountain because he wasn’t paying attention to anything but the dark shapes at the edges of his vision. The big manor house was a distant square full of lights when he heard rustling in the nearby bushes. “Edie?” he called again.

Someone emerged from behind a hedge up ahead. Magnus slowed his steps cautiously. It was a man, and he could barely make out a tuxedo of some kind. Behind him, a smaller figure appeared, and for a heart-pounding moment, he thought it was Edie. But then the man looped an arm around the woman’s shoulders as she tried to straighten her clothing and Magnus realized the woman ahead was much smaller.

Not Edie, then. He’d interrupted a tryst. “Have you two seen Edie?”

“Magnus, that you?” the man said, stepping forward. He pulled off his mask.

Magnus groaned inwardly. Asher, the prick.

Asher gave him a broad, almost sinister smile. “What brings you out here?” He slapped the woman with him on the ass and she jolted, scurrying ahead of them, still fixing the buttons on her costume.

Ugh. Not only was Asher the last person he wanted to see, but Asher was apparently drunk and in one of his nasty moods. “I’m looking for someone,” Magnus said abruptly, turning away.

Asher laughed. “Oh, that’s right. I heard you were nailing the gimpy bridesmaid. The foul-mouthed one. Let me tell you, she must suck a mean dick for you to look past all that.”

Magnus’s fists clenched. He knew Asher was a miserable bastard despite his smiles, that he was normally a good guy but he’d turned cynical and bitter after his fiancée had left him. There were reasons to his boorishness, Magnus knew. He didn’t blame the guy . . . fully. But he needed to shut his fucking mouth. “Go away, Asher.”

Asher just stumbled toward him, clearly drunk. He tried to loop an arm around Magnus’s shoulders, but the football pads were in the way, so he settled for giving Magnus an awkward pat on the arm instead. “It’s okay, man. You’re just taking one for the team—”

That was a little too close to home. With a roar of fury, Magnus rounded on Asher and decked the man in the face.

Asher went sprawling to the ground. Pain shot up Magnus’s arm, but it was welcome, because it meant he’d connected with Asher’s fucking smug face.

“Oh my god,” a woman squealed. “Asher!” The tiny woman ran forward and began to help Asher up. Even as she did, Asher put his fingers to his mouth and gave Magnus a cynical smile. “Maybe she’s not so good at—”

Fists clenched, Magnus lunged for him again—only to be pulled back by a new pair of hands.

“No, Magnus,” Edie said in a soft voice. “It’s okay, seriously.”

“Yeah, Magnus,” Asher said, wiping blood away from his face. “It’s cool.”

Seething, Magnus glared at Asher for a moment longer before looking down into Edie’s worried face. In the moonlight, she was beautiful, her hand on his arm, stroking him. She was worried, her features pinched, and her luscious mouth was pulled down in an unhappy frown. She didn’t look over at Asher, though. She just looked up at Magnus with those big eyes and stroked his arm. His hand throbbed, a reminder of what he’d just done, but it didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered was defending Edie, who had no way to defend herself from people like Asher.

He wanted to be the one to protect her. To keep her safe.

“It’s okay,” she told him softly. “Really.”