Chapter 52

Fifty-Two

EMORY

I knot my bow tie in the mirror for the third time, and yet it's still too early to leave the house. I've been counting down the hours until the charity event but only because that's when I get to see Scottie again.

She left in that hot rod of a car of hers hours ago to go to Vivian's with her dress in tow and a pretty blush spread across her cheeks from the leftovers of what we were doing right before.

I can't get enough of her.

I don't know what it means, and I don't want to question it.

All I know is that somehow, between the moment she cornered me in the arena bathroom and now, she's become my favorite thing in the world.

I stare at the jumbled covers on our bed, loving that it's all out of sorts because I had her in it hours ago. I smirk with the thought of how pointless it is for me to be making it again when I know damn well I'm going to strip her out of that dress I bought for her as soon as we're home, but I move to do it anyway.

Swiping my hand down to snag a pillow off the floor, something crinkles beneath my shoe. I bend, as much as my dress pants allow, and slide the piece of paper out with my shoe until it comes into sight.

Standing upright, I grip the envelope and scan it quickly. I furrow my forehead as I reread the letterhead.

Deacon Law Firm.

It's tempting. It really is.

A month ago, I would've torn into it without caring how that made Scottie feel.

But now?

I have second thoughts. It's a betrayal of her privacy.

I place the envelope on top of the dresser and leave it in plain sight. If Scottie knows I've seen it and still doesn't offer up some type of explanation, then I'll question her.

After all, I'm her husband. We're supposed to share things with each other, right?

I pause and look down at my ring finger.

That's a double standard coming from me.

If we're supposed to share things with each other, then I should probably stop being such a pussy and tell her how I really feel about her.

I sigh and swipe my keys from the dresser, heading to the event way too early. But standing here and arguing with myself over whether or not to tell my wife that I no longer want our marriage to be a ruse seems counterproductive.

"Olson." Coach Jacobs nods at me while he swirls amber-colored liquid in his glass cup.

"Coach," I say, nodding back at him.

We're all dressed to perfection, him in a navy-blue suit, me in a black one. Some of the guys are dressed in other colors. Malaki is in a dusty-pink suit, which at first I thought looked ridiculous, but somehow, with his confidence, he pulls it off.

"I want to say something to you," Coach lowers his voice, which is a change from the grumble I typically hear within the locker room. He gestures over to an empty cocktail table, and I follow after him.

I stare out into the crowd, waiting for Scottie and the rest of the women to walk in like they own the place. I'm jittery without her by my side, which is unusual for me.

"I want to thank you."

I turn to Coach and shoot him an incredulous look. "For?"

He takes a sip of his whiskey. "You've been an asset to this team. I wasn't sure when we signed you if it was the right move. The board went back and forth over the decision." He places his cup down. "Especially after trading some…agitators."

I snort when River's face pops into my head. "That's a nice way of putting it."

"With your background, I was hesitant because you seemed to be one too."

I flex my jaw. "I'm not."

"Glad you proved me wrong." He turns away, and I stare at the side of his face. Coach Jacobs is young for a hockey coach. Most are in their fifties, but he's barely in his mid-forties, and I can't help but notice that he isn't sporting a ring like I am.

Being a married man makes you think differently.

"By the way…" He stares out into the growing crowd. "You didn't need a fake marriage to fix your reputation. You've done that on your own with your leadership on the ice."

He turns to look at me, and I narrow my gaze.

"I'm not that dense, Olson. You guys think I know nothing about you other than your stats, but that's not true. I do a full background check on all the men before I let you walk into my domain. I also know that she was employed at the Cat House."

My heart beats right out of my chest, and I can't decide if it's anger, possession, or protectiveness that I'm feeling. With my blood pressure rising, I think it may be all three.

I have the sudden urge to prove to him that my marriage with Scottie is real, even though in the back of my head I know it isn't.

Not from the start, at least.

Now, I can't help but feel like it is.

He chuckles. "No surprise."

"What?" My voice edges on the brim of anger, and although he's my coach, I'll put him right the fuck in his place if I need to when it comes to her.

He turns away. "No surprise you've fallen in love with your fake wife."

Silence.

I say nothing.

I don't deny it.

I just stay quiet.

"I knew her father." Coach knocks his knuckles on the table before swiping his glass. "He was a good man. Knew his hockey, that's for sure." He clears his throat. "She resembles him."

I feel the jealousy simmering, which is fucking absurd. Just because he knew my wife's father doesn't mean he knows more about her than I do. However, this pushes me to find out every last thing about Scottie. I want to know everything there is. Her childhood, her favorite memories, her worst memories, her goals, her fears. All of it.

"Better go get her," he says, stepping away. "She's gaining a lot of attention in that dress." His deep chuckle catches my attention. "Her father would drag her out of here so fast if he were here."

I turn, and my stomach drops to the floor.

I have tunnel vision, and the only thing I see is her .

God damn.

She's mine.

The room seems to revolve around her, and the closer I get, the more my pulse races. Her hand is wrapped around my heart, and she's squeezing with every flutter of her eyelashes.

I'm thankful she didn't overdo it, because to be honest, Scottie doesn't need makeup to be beautiful. She's gorgeous in the quietest ways—soft features without a single flaw, baby-blue eyes that suck you in after one glance, and the shade of her lips is already calling to every man in the room.

Her sweet laugh catches my attention through the chatter of the room after Georgia whispers something to her. Matthew swoops in behind his fiancée and dips her backward for a quick kiss. Scottie's eyes light up, and she smiles.

I move in.

Her light gasp fills the gap between us, and surprise flickers over her face.

"Hey, baby," I say softly.

She blinks several times and inhales. Her ribs expand in my grip. "Hi." She exhales, and it's the sweetest scent I've ever smelled.

Without giving it much thought, I drag my hand up to her face and grip her cheek. My mouth falls to hers, and I smile to myself when she gives in right away. Her body relaxes, and her lips part. She lets me claim her in front of everyone, like she can't fathom denying me.

After I pull away and the room comes back into view, I peer down at her.

"You look beautiful."

My stomach fills with nerves, but they're unfamiliar. They're not the same ones I get before I take the ice. These are fragile, like they're capable of doing much more than giving me a lasting feeling of anger or disappointment from playing a shitty game. These ones can destroy me.

"Wow," she whispers into my ear. "That was awfully believable. Are you trying to prove something to someone?"

"It better be believable. It was real."

She playfully rolls her eyes, and I grip her tighter around the waist. "And yeah, I am trying to prove something."

Little does she know, I'm trying to prove something to her.