33. Easton
33
EASTON
I was riding high as I exited the locker room. We had another win under our belts, and Shayla was waiting for me. I couldn’t wait to celebrate with her. It was a strange feeling. She was the first person I wanted to talk to after a game, and I’d made a habit of calling and checking in with her when we were on the road. It was always quick, and I played it off as making sure she was okay in the house by herself, but in reality, I longed to hear her voice.
As if the universe was granting me a wish, I heard Shayla talking to someone just on the other side of the wall. I was about to round the corner when I heard an unfamiliar male voice, and I halted in my tracks. He was telling her how good she looked. My teeth ground together, and I heaved a deep breath to center myself before I walked out there and pummeled whoever this mystery man was. When he opened his mouth a second time, the urge to hurt him multiplied.
“You finally lost some weight.”
What the actual fuck? The gall of this guy to comment on Shayla’s weight. She was fucking perfect just as she was, but that was beside the point. You never talked about a woman’s body like that. Ever .
I clenched and unclenched my fists as I tried to calm my racing heart. Getting into a fight with what I assumed was a fan would do nothing but hurt my career. A wicked grin curved my lips at Shayla’s sassy reply, and pride swelled in my chest. My little hellcat had her claws out. She also revealed something I hadn’t known. She had a thyroid disorder, and it sounded like she had to take medicine for it. I couldn’t believe she’d never told me. I was her husband. I should know about things like that.
Shaking away those thoughts, I stepped out into the open and approached the group. Three men were positioned across from where Shayla stood with her arms crossed over her chest. I could tell from her body language she was pissed. She looked ready to go to battle all alone, but now she had me to fight by her side. I’d do my best to handle this peacefully, but if this fucker smarted off, I’d show him exactly why hockey players were notorious for fighting.
“There you are,” I crooned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Shayla flinched, but then relaxed when she realized it was me. The three guys stared at me wide eyed, their shock evident in the way their mouths hung open.
“Y-you’re Easton Walker,” one of them sputtered.
“In the flesh,” I confirmed with a wide grin.
The guy in the middle—presumably the one who’d just insulted my wife—spoke next. “You guys played great. We’re big fans.” His voice shook with wonder.
“Thanks,” I replied dispassionately.
Finally noticing my hold on Shayla, he looked back and forth between us, his brows knitted in confusion.
“Are you guys dating or something?” His question was aimed at Shayla. Her shoulders tensed in my hold, but I gave her a reassuring squeeze as I let out a boisterous chuckle.
“No,” I replied, injecting faux humor into my voice. The three guys laughed nervously as their uncertain gazes took us in. “We’re not dating.”
I slid my hand down Shayla's arm and gripped her hand, lifting it in front of her. The large diamond on her ring finger glittered beneath the fluorescent lights. I took great pleasure in the way his eyes widened to an almost inhuman size.
“She’s my wife.”
He gaped, his stare bouncing between me and the rock on Shayla’s hand. I smirked as disbelief morphed into shock, and then to envy. Whether his envy was directed at me or Shayla was yet to be determined. He seemed to have a hard-on for me, so it could go either way.
He swallowed thickly and schooled his features. Once he was composed, he straightened his jacket and cleared his throat.
“Well, uh, congratulations,” he croaked. I laced my fingers with Shayla’s and tugged her closer to me.
“Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse us, I’m ready to celebrate our win with my beautiful wife.” I cocked a brow suggestively so he’d get the hint. She was mine. She probably wouldn’t end up in my bed at the end of the night—much to my disappointment—but he didn’t need to know that.
“Ready?” I asked, peering down at her. She nodded, unable to meet my gaze, but we couldn’t have that. Eager to rub it in this douchebag’s face that she was coming home with me, I placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face to mine. I felt their gazes on me as I lowered my mouth to hers. She held her breath as I kissed her, but slowly she relaxed into me. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed my body to hers as my tongue slid against her lower lip. Her hands splayed over my chest, and I wondered if she could feel my thundering pulse.
Before things could get too intense, I pulled away. Shayla’s pupils were dilated, and she was practically panting. I wanted her, and I could almost swear she wanted me too.
“Let’s get out of here. I can’t wait to get you home,” I added salaciously. Tucking her under my arm, I shot the three men a smirk and led her out of the arena.
Shayla was quiet as I walked her to her car. She was clearly rattled by the interaction she’d had with those men, and I didn’t like it. Not one bit. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and not stuck my nose in her business, but I couldn’t help myself.
“So, was that a jealous ex?” I asked, and she snorted.
“Jealous? No. Ex? Unfortunately.”
“He looked pretty jealous to me.”
“Trust me. He wasn’t.”
“I don’t know,” I prodded. “I heard him tell you how good you looked.” That was the wrong thing to say. Her step faltered and slowed before she came to a stop.
“You heard all that?”
“I did.” She glanced away, her throat bobbing with a harsh swallow.
“I guess now you know why he’s an ex. I apparently wasn’t good enough for him.”
“That’s bullshit,” I snapped before I could think twice about my reaction. She glared at me, and that fire I craved roared to life in her steely irises. “He’s obviously the one who isn’t good enough for you. And I think we both showed him that.” She huffed out a humorless laugh and crossed her arms over her chest.
“You mean with that pity kiss you planted on me to show him I was taken?”
Pity kiss? Was she serious? Surely she didn’t think it was all for show. She had to realize that what was going on between us was more than just a facade at this point. The only reason I hadn’t taken her to my bed yet was because of her stupid no sex rule. I was trying to be a gentleman and respect her wishes, but my self-restraint was unraveling by the second.
I took a step toward her, ready to set her straight. She tipped her chin up defiantly, her molten gaze narrowing on mine. Before I could refute her claim, a tricked out SUV skidded to a stop next to us and honked. The tinted driver’s side window rolled down, revealing Kent.
“Hey, a few of us are heading downtown to grab dinner. You wanna come?” he asked in his low drawl. I wanted to finish what I’d started with Shayla, but she’d retreated, putting enough space between us that I got the message. Besides, I was starving after skating my guts out during the game.
I turned to Shayla where she stood huddled next to her car.
“You hungry?” I asked, hoping she’d join us. She nibbled on her bottom lip nervously then shook her head.
“I’m good. I think I’m just going to go home and crash. You should go, though. I’m sure you’re famished after playing so hard.”
I hoped she was telling the truth and wasn't letting what that cocksucker had said about her weight keep her from eating. She was always so adamant that everyone around her properly nourish their bodies. Surely, she wouldn’t let this keep her from following her own advice.
Perhaps she was just trying to put distance between us, but I didn’t like that possibility either. I opened my mouth to protest and offer to just come home when Kent spoke up.
“There you go. Wifey gave you her blessing. Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, searching Shayla’s face for any hints of doubt. If I detected even the slightest amount of hesitation, I’d hop in my SUV and follow her home.
“Of course. You guys need to make sure you refuel. You played hard tonight.”
“Yeah, we were pretty kick ass,” Kent agreed.
“Congrats on scoring two goals tonight. It was amazing.”
Kent beamed under her praise, and I wanted to wipe the smug look off his face. I hadn’t gotten any congratulations from my wife, and I’d scored the winning goal, dammit.
“Thanks, Shay.”
“Ready to go?” I asked, diverting Kent’s attention from my wife. I didn’t like the way he looked at her, and I certainly didn’t care for the soft smile she tossed his way. I’d never been the jealous type, but my fake wife was making me feel a lot of things I never expected.