Chapter 14

14

Banks opened the front door and stood stock-still.

No beep from the alarm.

He dropped his gym bag in the foyer and listened.

The house felt different. Alive. Something brushed by his leg and gave a plaintive mewl. As Banks’s instincts were completely off lately, he did the wrong thing.

Picked it up.

Amber-green eyes blinked back at him. “Hey, where’s your momma?”

He shouldn’t be touching him, but the ball of fur looked positively terrified when he tried returning him to the floor. Banks wasn’t sneezing yet, and hopefully, he could keep the creature isolated so it wouldn’t be an issue. Telling her he was allergic wouldn’t go over well. People loved their animals and he needed to keep her happy.

Holding Cheddar at arm’s length, he walked into the living room.

Georgia lay sprawled on the sofa, front down. Her laptop was open, frozen on an image of a smiling girl. Like Georgia, but not her.

One of the cashmere blankets that were usually draped over the armrest covered her left side. On her upper half, she wore a green flannel shirt, which looked familiar. But none of that was responsible for his spiking pulse and the tug of desire in his groin.

That honor went to the rounded ass cheek on display, bisected by lacey white fabric, the perfect welcome home, Banks . He had no problem imagining his rough hand touching that soft skin, his fingers delving into the cleft where he’d find her tight, hot, and wet.

She moved in her sleep, and startled to be caught perving, he dropped the cat. Its unappreciative screech echoed to the ceiling. Georgia jerked awake.

“What?” She turned over, twisting her body up in the throw, hiding all that silky skin. “Banks?”

“The cat made a noise.”

She blinked and rubbed her eyes. “Where is he?”

“Ran off to the kitchen. Why aren’t you in bed?”

“What time is it?”

“Five in the morning. I just got in.”

She stretched, which pushed her hard nipples against the T-shirt she was wearing beneath the open flannel. It said “Lurie Children’s Hospital” inside a big pink heart and looked lived-in and soft against her perky, braless tits.

“You won your games.”

“Won one, lost one.” Dallas went well, LA not so much, and he’d barely slept a wink on the redeye back.

Her nose twitched. “I didn’t want to mention the loss. But the sports people said you guys will likely make the playoffs anyway, so that’s good!”

“Yeah, it is. Why didn’t you put on the alarm?”

She looked toward the foyer. “I was worried I’d set it off.”

“It’s not that complicated.”

She shrugged. “Cheddar looks after me.”

“The badass that ran to the kitchen when I dropped him?”

“You dropped him?”

Because I saw your ass cheek playing peek-a-boo and it was more than my insured-for-millions hands could handle.

“He’s fine. Not the most reliable security, though.” He took a seat at the end of the sofa beside a pile of white index cards. The top one was titled “Hockey Rules” beneath which was written in a flowery script: No kicking the puck into the goal , followed by: stupid .

He rubbed his mouth to hide his smile. It was kind of stupid. “How were the last few days here?”

“Quiet. I cooked a little. Nothing major, just eggs and salads.” Her blush was lovely yet mystifying. Was she embarrassed about her cooking skills? “And I explored the house.”

“Took a while, I’d wager.”

She laughed. “Yep. A few days but Cheddar made a great walking companion. You have a lot of suits.”

She’d been in his room. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that; he certainly didn’t need cat hair all over his bed linen. “Worried I’m cutting into your closet space needs?”

“Just surprised you’re such a fashionista.”

The cat had returned and decided to now crawl over his lap. He kind of liked how warm it felt, like it was an extension of Georgia.

Her warm little pussy. Georgia straddling him with her soft, damp heat …

Less than thirty seconds in, and he was turning hard while a creature he was allergic to dug its claws into his thigh.

Distraction needed. He nodded at the laptop. “Is that your sister?”

“Yeah, our 21st birthday party. Just reminiscing.” She closed the laptop and smiled at him. Kind of fake, though.

“How about some breakfast?” he asked.

“Don’t you want to go to bed?”

“Bed?”

She covered her mouth. “Not with me! I’m guessing you must be tired after your trip.”

“I can stay up for a bit to eat.”

“Sounds good.” Another smile, less forced this time. “Could you grab those PJs?”

He passed over a pair of sleep shorts and headed into the kitchen to give her privacy. He was absolutely wrecked, his shoulder was killing him, and he had definitely bruised a couple of ribs in the LA game, but something about seeing Georgia crashed out on the sofa, falling asleep to memories of her dead sister, gave him pause.

He couldn’t imagine losing one of his siblings. It was bad enough losing his dad in Iraq when he was sixteen. But a twin, someone with whom you’d shared space in your mother’s womb? That had to have crushed her. No wonder she went a bit wild.

Maybe this marriage was a symptom of her grief. If that was the case, he wasn’t sure he was the right person to heal her. That kind of trauma didn’t get fixed overnight.

She came into the kitchen, the flannel pulled across her chest so he couldn’t see those pretty little nipples poking through.

He grabbed a couple of pods and mugs. “I probably should learn how you take your coffee.”

“Half a Splenda, splash of skim. You?”

“Black.”

“Of course.”

But she drank herbal tea in the evening. He’d seen the mug on the coffee table.

He fixed the coffee and doctored it to her liking. She took eggs, bread, and butter out of the fridge, but he laid a hand on her arm.

“Sit. I’ve got this.”

“But you must be exhausted.”

“Still buzzing from the trip.”

She bit her lip. “Okay. Like I’m going to say no to a man who cooks.” She took her coffee and sat at the table with one knee up to her chest, revealing the soft, smooth-looking skin of the back of her thigh. “So how are your friends taking your marital status?”

“My friends?”

“Your teammates.”

He cracked the eggs into a bowl, added salt and pepper. Checking the fridge for milk, he found it full of new supplies—fruit, salads, things in plastic containers. Weird to see her stuff mixing with his. Weird but nice.

“They think it’s hilarious. The press are asking dumb questions, too.”

“Like what?”

He grabbed the whisk from the utensils jar. “Did I push for the trade to be with you? How do I get along with your parents? What’s our favorite nightclub? You know, perfectly normal queries for a hockey player after a game.”

That made her smile. “Sorry?”

“Sure you are. What about you? Any teasing from your crew?”

“About what you’d expect, mostly about how drunk I must have been. Though Tara said we can’t have been that bad, that the marriage clerk wouldn’t issue a license if you’re too trashed.” She peeked up at him through the veil of her dark blonde lashes. He saw vulnerability there.

Were we that drunk, husband?

No, wife, we were not.

“My friend Oliver thinks I’ve betrayed our pact.”

He paused the egg whisking. “Your pact?”

“Just this joke we have. If we’re single at thirty, we should marry each other, so we’re not left on the shelf.”

Georgia’s oldest friend, the guy from the party. He’d have to keep an eye on him.

“Known him a long time, then?” He turned away, not wanting to see any fondness cross her face.

“Since we were kids. Our parents are friends and we kissed once.”

“When?” The word was out before he could claw it back.

“In third grade.”

Relief warred with desire to wring this guy’s scrawny little neck. “And he’s been dining off that memory for years, I bet.”

That made her laugh. “Sure. Oliver’s dating someone, so nothing to worry about there.”

“And you’re married.”

He faced her, needing to see how that affected her. A blush, which was so damn perfect it made his dick twitch.

“I am.”

He should not enjoy the sound of that.

A few minutes later, he served up scrambled eggs on toast and orange juice.

She blinked at the plates, then met his gaze. “This is lovely, Banks. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” It was only breakfast, but he got the impression Georgia didn’t allow herself much in the way of simple pleasures, just complicated ones. He was tired enough to drop, but it was worth delaying his bedtime if it meant giving her this one small thing.

After he’d eaten a few mouthfuls, he picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “How come you were sleeping on the sofa?”

“I was watching Suits .” At his blank look, she explained. “It’s this show about New York lawyers with Meghan Markle, now Her Royal Highness Meghan. Anyway, it’s a comfort watch. Hot suits, competence porn, and sizzling romance. It was Dani’s favorite show.”

He remained silent, giving her room to open up, which she took after a moment.

“She had this huge crush on the guy who plays Harvey Specter and for her birthday, I got her this giant cardboard cutout that I had to courier to him in LA to get him to sign it. I was hoping he’d come to the party, but he was filming a movie in Hungary.”

“Sounds like a cool gift all the same.”

Georgia laughed. “Oh, it was. Kind of silly but what do you get the girl who has everything? Money’s no object except—well, it can’t fix your health. Not Dani’s anyway. So silly gifts were the way to go. Mom thought it was ridiculous, but she didn’t get it. No one did.”

“Not silly if it meant a lot to her.”

“True.” She finished chewing a mouthful of eggs. “For my gift, she took me to a karaoke bar, which is kind of absurd because I’m an awful singer. She couldn’t do as much as me because she got tired so easily, but that was something we could do together. She had a list of things she wanted to do before—” She shook her head. “We just rented the room and sang our hearts out.”

“Song?”

“‘Juice’ by Lizzo! The gift was to me after all.” She smiled. “Last night, after a couple of episodes of Suits , I dialed up the old home video. Good times.”

“How long since she’s been gone?”

“A little over two years. It’s getting easier, though.”

“Is it?”

“That’s what they say, right?” She crumpled up her napkin, then straightened it out again.

“Different for everyone. When my dad died, it took a while. It’s been twenty years and I still think about him, wish he was here.”

“Did he see you play?”

“Not professionally. I was sixteen when he passed, but he knew I was good. That it was my future.”

She nodded. “That must be very reassuring. To know what you want.”

He hadn’t thought of it like that. “It can be, but there’s also a certain tunnel vision associated with that kind of career path. My mom always says ‘do what you love, love what you do’. I knew I wanted to play hockey, that I loved it, but once my dad died, I also saw it as a way to ensure my family was provided for. That no one would go hungry.”

“That’s amazing, Banks.”

His family were grateful, that was for sure. Securing their future had always felt like the most important goal, and now that he had, he itched for something else. Something for himself.

Typical thoughts for a guy in the twilight of his career. What came next?

Who came next?

He’d assumed he would find a woman who had baby making and cookie baking on her mind. She’d be a hockey fan, a few years younger but still in her child-bearing prime. Maybe an elementary schoolteacher. Someone with similar life goals.

For all his insistence that he and Georgia had forged a connection that night, how much sense did that really make? The real reason he’d been drawn to her was more likely a pathetic attempt to have her youth and vibrancy rub off on him. Steal some of the glow for his elderly self.

What had she seen in him? He didn’t have charm like Kershaw or O’Malley, or good looks like Petrov or the Durands. No doubt she had explained it away to her friends with a tale of another crazy Georgia escapade.

I was absolutely trashed and managed to get myself hitched to this lecherous old dude. You wouldn’t believe what I have to suffer to keep in the good books of Mommy and Daddy.

He sought a change of subject. “So what else was on your sister’s list?”

“Travel was a big one. We took a trip to the Grand Canyon a couple of months before she died. She wanted to hike it, but she wasn’t strong enough, so we did a helicopter tour instead, which was amazing. We took in some of the best views from the South Rim. Have you been?”

“Once when I was a kid. One of the coolest days I had with my dad.” He hadn’t thought about that in a long time.

“It’s funny how these memories sear into our consciousness, isn’t it?”

“Life’s highlight reel. Even if you don’t remember them clearly, the feeling stays with you.”

Her eyes brightened. “Right. Like the karaoke, which thankfully I have a record of.”

“I’ll need to see that.”

She shook her head vehemently. “Nope. It’s in the Twin Vault. With the sex stuff.”

“The sex stuff?”

She blushed. “We shared everything, but there were always things she wouldn’t get a chance to do. I was her proxy, in a way.” He must have looked baffled. “She couldn’t do overly physical things or anything that got her heart beating too fast. So I would go a little wild on her behalf.”

He was still hung up on the sex stuff comment. “Like what?”

“Sneak backstage at a concert. That’s how I met Keaton at the Bison gig. Crash a wedding—I’ve done that a couple of times. Stay the night in a museum. Skinny dipping in Lake Michigan. I was cited for that one.”

She chuckled softly as a fond memory took hold. “Mom and Dad were so worried Dani would get more sick, but it was what she wanted. Just to be free of all the poking and prodding. She always knew she could go at any minute, so we were determined to make sure she had as much fun as possible. Sometimes we played pranks.”

“Oh yeah?”

Her laugh was music. “Switching sugar for salt, changing all the male photos in the house to Bruce Springsteen, rubber scorpion in Dad’s coffee mug. The classics.”

“You’d better not try that on me.”

A mischievous look crossed her lovely features. “But as we got older, we wanted to do more adult things. Like go to bars with fake IDs and borrow the Merc for a little spin, which unfortunately Dani crashed into the pillar at the end of the driveway. I took the blame because Dad would’ve killed us if he knew Dani was driving without a license. Sometimes, she was too tired, so she’d encourage me to go out and do my own thing, but text her constantly to keep her updated. She couldn’t smoke or drink or”—she averted her eyes—“do anything that might be considered dangerous to her health, so I was a bad girl for two. She got to live vicariously through me for a while.”

“And what did your parents think of all this rebellion?”

“Rebellion is such an old-fashioned way to describe it. It was more a sisterly gift.” She crumpled up the napkin, smoothed it out again. “And after she was gone, I’d sometimes find myself doing something a little crazy in her memory. This one’s for Dani, I’d say, which was really an excuse for bad behavior. When I was arrested for borrowing a horse during Lolla, it was the last straw for my parents. They cut off my allowance and said I had to get my act together. I was so mad at them. I had some savings, so I moved into Castle Apartments and carried on with my life.”

Her partying, wild-child life. Only now she needed their money again because being poor, or Georgia’s version of it, must suck. “Is that what Vegas was about?”

Her eyes flew wide. “Getting married?”

He nodded. Waited. Wished like hell he hadn’t asked because it sounded like he was hurt.

“You think I married you as a ‘screw you’ to my parents?”

“It crossed my mind.”

She hissed in a breath. “That’s a pretty dickish thing to say.”

It was, and that critique should have been the signal for him to shut the fuck up. He was never good at listening to that inner voice.

“You said yourself you weren’t that drunk. But I’m guessing that buyer’s remorse kicked in good and hard the next morning.”

Marrying a guy like him would make the perfect revenge against the parents who cut her off—or that might have been her first thought until she realized that even that went too far for wild child Georgia. Once her parents found out, she figured she had to keep it up because the Goodwins weren’t going to put her back on the company payroll if it looked like she was still up to her old tricks.

She stood quickly. “Well, it looks like my first instinct in leaving that hotel room was absolutely correct.” After which she left this room without a backward glance.

Only as she walked out did he realize why the flannel she wore was so familiar. It was the one he’d given her that night in Vegas. To keep her warm.

After they got married.

Fuck.