Stiletto Sisterhood

Chapter Two

Isobel Morgan, often the paragon of patience, cast her eyes to the ceiling and prayed for the strength not to shove her fiancé down the stairs.

"I can't believe you're kicking me out of bed before dawn. Again."

"Baby . . ." She sighed, hands clenching and unclenching in impatient fists. "It's nearly eight. You know he'll be up soon."

"Seriously—come on, Tink, we're engaged now. I think we can stop the charade." At the base of the stairway,
Kyle Peterson whirled around, and, even with a scowl on his face, she was struck by the beauty of him. Broad shouldered and lean, his face dominated by tempest-gray eyes, sullen full lips, and a chiseled jaw. Even brooding, he was breathtaking. Maybe more so. He could've easily modeled if his heart hadn't been set on soccer.

It was staggering to think in three short months she was going to be his wife.

They'd met as kids at summer camp but had gone separate ways until high school. That first moment she'd seen him again, when he'd smiled at her from across the field, her heart had tumbled right out of her chest and onto the shorn grass at his feet. Every single girl in school, even the seniors, wanted him, but it was Isobel Morgan he'd asked to be his date for the fall dance, and shortly thereafter to be his girlfriend.
Kyle "the Pan" Peterson—the fearless boy who flew on the field, and Isobel Morgan, his Tinker Bell.

Because you bring magic to my life. And I bring adventure to yours.

"It's his house. I have to respect it." Isobel looped her arms around his waist and wiggled Kyle back toward the doorway. Three feet. Just three more feet.

"Which is why you should come to the condo instead." Kyle planted himself like a tree on the threshold and arched a brow. "You are coming over tonight, yes?" Isobel held her breath. "It's your turn, Tink."

Yes, it was. He'd made the effort every day for the past two months, but nights away from home made her anxious and too stressed to sleep. Even in Kyle's arms, which was her favorite place to be, she found no solace from the nagging worry.

Did he take his meds?

Is he throwing up?

In pain?

Did he get dizzy and fall, again?

"Tink?"

Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, she yanked him in for a pacifying kiss, mainly to stop the storm she saw brewing in his eyes from turning into a full-blown hurricane. "I'll call you later. Also, don't forget about our lunch meeting with the coordinator."

Kyle's frown slid into the pout of a toddler being told he had to eat his dinner if he wanted dessert. "Do I have to?"

"Well . . ." Isobel shuffled, barefoot. "Don't you want to be there to see the venue?" There weren't many locations in Toronto available for a late-summer wedding that matched her stringent, environmentally friendly perspective and vegan lifestyle with Kyle's need for . . . style, as he put it. But the loft space in the Distillery District was perfect, and this was her last chance to get in there to see it before signing the paperwork.

Kyle scraped a hand over his head, mussing short brown curls gilded from his recent trip to Miami with his team. "Babe . . . I've really got to rest up for the game tomorrow. Coach says I have to take it easy after stressing my ACL in practice."

"Right. Of course." Isobel's heart twisted, but she masked her disappointment with a smile. After signing with Toronto FC last summer, Kyle had pushed hard to keep up with his team. He wasn't a kid kicking a ball across the field anymore. He was a professional athlete, and that came with expectations. Responsibilities. Demands. He was living his dream; the least she could do was manage a coordinator meeting. "I'll take care of it. Don't worry."