Chapter 18

18

They qualified for the playoffs.

Even better they qualified at home. They could begin the celebrations early without having to worry about being hungover on the plane ride back to Chicago.

O’Malley sidled up to Banks at the bar in the Empty Net, a big, stupid smile on his face.

“What gives?”

“We made it, man! The playoffs.”

“You’ve made the playoffs before. We did it two years ago in Nashville.”

“Yeah, but it’s different this time.” Meaning, Dex was different this time. He was in love and apparently, that made the air smell sweeter, food taste better, and the standard qualification for a knock-out contest where half the teams made par feel like he’d already won the Cup.

“How are your girls?” As well as a new girlfriend, O’Malley had landed a stepdad-in-all-but-name gig to Ashley’s butterfly-obsessed daughter.

“Awesome. Ashley should be stopping by soon and Willa just sent me this photo.” He showed his screen with a sweet photo of a kid wearing O’Malley’s jersey and a huge grin that made Banks’s teeth ache.

“Nice.” He meant it, though he didn’t especially enjoy that twinge in his chest. Banks didn’t want O’Malley’s life. He had plenty of people reaching out to wish him well—family, friends, former teammates. He wasn’t alone.

O’Malley looked like he wanted to say something. Banks remained silent, hoping that was enough of a damper to the kid’s efforts at bonding. Alas, no such luck.

“Where’s Georgia?”

At home, not thinking about the kiss I laid on her.

Pity it was all Banks could think about. That was the problem with having a woman like Georgia in his life. She didn’t make that life easier, and that’s what he needed for the next two weeks and hopefully six weeks after that.

“We’re not joined at the hip.”

In truth, he’d been avoiding her, which should have been easy. The house was big, and she spent a lot of time out of it. His leaving early and coming home late, except for the odd check-in during the day, was working gangbusters to maintain the distance he needed for his game and his sanity.

Except there were whispers of her presence everywhere. Her stuff in the fridge, her scent in the foyer, and those damn affirmations on the mirrors. I believe in myself and I am capable and the most telling one of all: I learn from my mistakes .

Each day this week, he had come across a different message of encouragement on the fridge door, aimed at him, he supposed. You can do this! or Today’s Your Day! or Pressure is a Privilege! (Sure thing, Billie Jean King.) If all he had to do was recite a bunch of dumb mantras, he’d have won the fucking Cup by now.

O’Malley tapped a finger on the bar. “Maybe you should call her and ask her to join us? If anyone knows how to celebrate, it’s Georgia.”

True, the party girl would really dig this. Her husband? Not so much. The last thing he needed was to watch his wife whooping it up with this lot.

Banks stared him down and O’Malley dropped his gaze, except he wasn’t looking away because Banks intimidated him but because Ashley had just walked in.

“Better hop to it, Dexter. Your owner’s here.”

O’Malley laughed. “Wearing the badge with pride, brother. Later.” Off he went, like a Golden Retriever looking for a nice and vigorous pet down. Before he reached her and no doubt greeted his woman with a kiss, Banks turned away.

He sure as hell did not need to be reminded of what he didn’t have, not when he was too hung up on what was in his shaky possession.

A wife in name only.

A marriage with no benefits.

A partner for a financial arrangement.

Hers.

The playoffs started in three days, and Banks planned to spend every one of them in the gym or on the ice—and nowhere near his hot, far-too-young-for-him wife.

Banks was talking to a woman.

It was early—okay, so it was after nine in the morning, which was early for Georgia—and a female voice carried through the house. Georgia crept down the stairs, skulking her way toward the kitchen.

He stood against the island, coffee cup in hand, wearing shorts (oh, Mama!) and a tee that shaped his pectorals to perfection. The T-shirt said: I walk on water. What’s your superpower?

Love!

“So what’s she like? The old ball and chain?”

The voice came from his iPad, propped up on a stand. Georgia held back, curious about how Banks would describe her to someone else.

“Chatty. Blonde. Cute. Not your type.”

“As if you know what my type is.”

“Yeah, I do. Big-muscled volleyball players.”

A dramatic sigh ensued. “I fucked one volleyball player ten years ago. Now I’m all about the nurturing woman, like my Amy.”

“Where is your better half? I’d much rather talk to her.”

“She’s taking Scarlet to school, then chilling at a coffee shop because we drive her mad.”

Someone else laughed. “That’s what Jason says about me. He’s soundproofing the man cave as we speak. But enough about that. We want to meet her!”

“You’re coming to Chicago soon enough.”

“And we can’t wait.” Yet another voice rang out.

These must be his sisters.

Georgia hadn’t seen much of Banks over the last few days. He’d spent most of his time at practice or the gym, and then played a game last night that qualified the team for the playoffs. She’d written “CONGRATS!” on the magnetized notepad on the fridge and sent him a text with an iconic GIF of Julia Roberts fist-pumping in Pretty Woman .

He’d responded with a very succinct, and to her mind unnecessarily terse, “TY.”

This shift in their dynamic was her fault. A few nights ago, they’d been making progress with tacos and talking, but then came The Kiss. A kiss so good that she had to ruin it with a reminder of reality. Georgia couldn’t enjoy the fantasy on offer, Banks’s amazing mouth and ass-clenching hand. No, she had to get into the weeds of the absurdity of their decision-making when it came to their marriage.

Banks hadn’t liked that, probably because who wanted to be reminded of a rash decision?

Oh, you thought there was a good reason for this sham of a marriage? Think again, Big Guy. Tequila and fountains and grief, oh my!

Feeling like a creeper, she took a step forward, enough to tease a creak from the hardwood floor and make her presence known. Banks looked up and she waited for his disappointment or annoyance, especially after how they’d parted previously.

Neither came. Or maybe he was getting better at hiding his feelings around her.

“Morning.”

“Hi!” She sounded squeaky. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, it’s perfect timing. Come meet the coven.”

The coven? A wave of high-pitched protests sounded as Georgia moved in closer. The screen was split with three curious faces shining out at her.

“Don’t mind him! Coven! I mean, really, D.” The woman who spoke first was dark-haired with pixie features. “I’m April.”

She recalled her Bankowski flash cards. April: oldest sister, 33, married to Carlos, daughter Jenny, 3. Doesn’t like cilantro. Weird about food touching on her plate.

“Hi, I’m Georgia. I’m sorry we haven’t spoken until now.”

“It’s all my brother’s fault. Unfortunately, we told him how much we wanted to say hello, which means he tortures us by hiding you away.” This came out in a rush from another dark-haired woman, this one with a strong chin and determined eyes, just like Banks.

“That’s Sandy,” he said. “She’s the worst.”

“I am!” Sandy confirmed, which set them off laughing.

Sandy: middle sister, 31, married to Amy, daughter Scarlet, 6.

“And I’m Kelly, the baby of the bunch,” the third woman piped in. She had lovely auburn hair and dark eyes like her sisters and brother. Kelly: youngest sister, 29, married to Jason, twin daughters, Lottie and Lila, 4. “But I think you must be younger than me, Georgia.”

“I’m twenty-four. Almost twenty-five.” She slid a quick glance at Banks, who was watching her intently.

“She’s the new baby,” Sandy said. “Bro, you are such a cradle snatcher.”

“Yep, that’s me,” he said, which should have been amusing but, judging by Banks’s face, was not. He didn’t like references to their age difference.

April chimed in. “I’m going to get Mom and Gran. They can’t miss this.”

“Nope.” Banks held up a hand. “Let’s keep it tight for today and not overwhelm Georgia.”

“Spoilsport.” Kelly made a face, and everyone but Banks laughed.

“Georgia, you’re even more beautiful in person than online,” Sandy said, “and you are so gorgeous in all the pics we’ve seen. You looked amazing in your wedding photo.”

She did? She’d checked her phone’s camera roll, and nothing existed from that night.

“Oh, that’s so kind of you. This is me, straight out of bed pre-makeup. Bit of a mess.”

“Nonsense,” Kelly said. “I would kill for that skin.”

“Cast a spell, witch,” Banks said laconically.

“You hear how he talks to us?” Sandy pointed. “You’re scaring Georgia away.”

“It’ll take more than some light witchcraft to frighten this woman. She ate my tacos.”

Exclamations of incredulity met this statement.

“They were so good!” Georgia laughed and sent an amused glance toward Banks. “I like ’em spicy. The hotter the better.”

Everyone was laughing, except Banks, who never seemed to find her amusing at all.

“Wait until he starts making you curries,” April said. “They’ll blow your top off.”

Like that kiss. No way did Georgia want to look horny in front of Banks’s family. Quickly, she changed the subject.

“So you’re coming to Chicago to watch your brother play?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sandy raised her hands. “The first two playoff games at home. Best to get in there now in case they get swept.”

Cries of “don’t jinx it!” and “Sandy!” went up while Sandy defended herself vociferously. They were all so raucous and fun, quite unlike their stoic brother.

“And Mom and Gran will be there, too. Gran’s so excited to meet the woman that finally hooked her favorite grandchild.”

Georgia chuckled. “Aw, he’s the favorite? I can’t wait to hear all the stories about him.”

“Oh, we have so many!” Kelly leaned in and cupped her mouth. “There was one time he snuck a girl into his room and?—”

“Kel.” Just one word from Banks was enough.

“Scarred for life, I was!” She winked at the camera. “We’ll talk later. With wine.”

Georgia gave an exaggerated wink right back. “Gotcha!”

“Alright, time to wrap up this love fest.” Banks sketched a brief hand wave and ended the call by touching the screen.

“They’re lovely.”

“Don’t be fooled. They’re very likely on another call talking about you.” She must have looked horrified because Banks stepped in quickly, his hand on her hip. “Don’t fret. They’ll have nothing but good things to say about you because what else is there?”

“How about that time I lured you down the aisle? Or how I’m clearly after your big hockey salary? What about the fact I’ve taken one of the game’s most eligible bachelors off the market? I see what they’re saying about me on social media. The other day, some chick was ranting about me on TikTok.”

“TikTok? Who gives a fuck about a bunch of strangers online?”

“I do! They said I’m not a true hockey wife because I don’t know anything about the game. I’m not even worthy of being called a puck bunny.”

He smirked. So he did find her amusing.

She thumped him lightly on his chest, making sure to stay away from known bruises. Though, judging by the balls-to-the-boards way Banks played, he had probably accumulated more. She’d watched the game last night with a Wikipedia article on her phone and a stack of flash cards as she tried to parse the rules. Offside? Icing? No clue.

“It’s not funny.”

“Kind of is. And what do you care what my sisters think?”

“Because it’s your family. And they’ll talk to your mom and gran and tell them things.”

“Like how you love my spicy tacos.” He added an expressive scoot upward of his eyebrows.

“Banks!” She couldn’t help her laugh. “All that innuendo made me sound like a thirsty bitch.”

“I’m feeding you. Of course you’re going to be hot for your husband.”

Husband. “Cooking is very attractive in a man.”

He was closer now, looking down on her with a searing focus on her eyes, then her lips. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Her throat was dry, her hunger for this man making her desperate for more of those drugging kisses.

But this had the capacity to become very complicated. She had drawn her line, and now they needed to move on. She redirected her thoughts to non-sexy ones. “Are you looking forward to their visit?”

“They’re very annoying, but they’re family.”

She nodded, remembering how they joshed and joked on the call a few moments ago. The love was plain to see.

“Hey.” He brushed a thumb over her cheek.

A rebel tear had escaped. Awesome work, Georgia. From sexy to sad in a heartbeat.

“I’m fine.”

“Georgia.” He pulled her close, placing his other hand on her hip. “What’s going on?”

“I just like seeing you all together. It reminds me of happier times with Dani. I’d forgotten how much we laughed, and seeing you with your sisters brought it back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, please, don’t be.” She swiped at her eye. “Never apologize for being happy. It’s important to recognize these moments when you’re in them.”

He nodded, waiting for her to get a grip. His hands on her were changing her mood from sad to something-not-so-sad, so she took a step back with a sucked in breath.

“I was worried you weren’t talking to me,” she said. “Because of how we ended our conversation the other night.”

“You do have a habit of exiting the kitchen dramatically and leaving me with the clean-up. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“So I’m given to dramatic flourishes.”

“And the housework suffers. Coffee?”

“Please.”

He poured her a cup and fixed it the way she liked it.

“Thanks. Oh, wait a second. What was that about a wedding photo? Sandy mentioned it.”

“You don’t have a copy?”

“I never got one.”

“The celebrant texted me a link. I thought he did the same for you.”

She shook her head. He opened his phone and found the photo, rather quickly, she thought.

Banks was in his green flannel shirt but wouldn’t be for long because he gave it to her right after. She wore her pink Milla cocktail dress with a strapless bodice and applique organza skirt and of course, Manolos. As good a wedding day outfit as any. But it was their pose that struck her dead. Banks slightly turned to her, his mouth touching the top of her head, his arm circling her waist. His beard was lighter than what he had now, which made it easier to spot the curve to his lips, his tell that he had a secret.

Her . She was the secret and Banks liked it.

“It’d be nice to have a copy,” she said, peeking up to find him studying her. “My friends keep asking for visual proof.”

“I’ll text it to you.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So, about the playoffs. The first game is the day after tomorrow. I have a ticket set aside for you.”

She had planned to talk to Tara about getting a seat in the box. “You do?”

“Of course. You’re my wife.”

Heat ascended her cheeks. Anytime he used that word—or the H word—her pussy started to throb and her whole body sparked with desire. “Well, yes. I am.”

“If you don’t want to go?—”

“It’s not that. I assumed you’d need all the tickets for your family. And I’m worried about not knowing how the game works and embarrassing you. I won’t understand when you’re doing well. Or badly.”

“You could never embarrass me. And you’ll understand. The crowd has a pulse.”

“A pulse?”

He nodded and placed a fist to his chest. “A heartbeat.” He gently banged against his left pec, like he was knocking at a door. Th-thump. Th-thump.

Her heart rate picked up, beating in rhythm with that fist.

“I’ve been watching YouTube videos to learn the rules. But if all I need to do is commune with the crowd to figure it out, maybe I don’t need it?”

“So you’ll come to the game?”

“I suppose it would look suspicious if I didn’t go.” Giving him an out.

“It would.” Before disappointment could take over, he added, “But I’d like you to be there anyway.”

It sounded like he meant it, like her presence mattered.

“I’d love to be there.”

“Good.”