13. Griffin
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GRIFFIN
“ G ood news!” Marlee Remington, the Operations Manager for the Stars, smiles happily at Layken and I as we wait for our hotel room key cards. She dangles two cards in front of us and giddily explains, “Since you two didn’t have a honeymoon I’ve booked you in the honeymoon suite for each night!”
She hands one card to Layken and one card to me.
Fuck.
I didn’t think about our hotel rooms.
I hope she’s not too upset with the idea of sharing a room together.
But also, I hope there’s only one bed so we’re forced to snuggle.
“Together, you mean?” The words fly out of Layken’s mouth before I can catch them.
I glance at her with an intensity that says Don’t forget we’re married and this is what married people do and then I laugh. “Really, Naughty? Are you trying to get rid of me already?” I playfully hook my arm around her waist and kiss her temple. “Marlee I hope the honeymoon suite has a doghouse because I must be in it already.”
Marlee’s gaze slides to Layken but she recovers from her near lethal mistake and laughs right along with me. “I’m just kidding, babe,” she says before kissing my cheek lightly. “But also, if you snore like you did the other night, I might make you sleep in the closet, because I did not sign up for that.”
Sure. Okay.
I’ll take the blame.
But if you’re going to dish it out…
“Pretty sure that was implied in that for better or worse part, but don’t you worry,” I wink at her, “I’ll make sure to give you a good workout so you’re good and tired and can sleep peacefully through the night.”
Her jaw drops and she whacks me playfully on my upper arm.
“Griffin Ollenberg!” She gestures to Marlee still standing with us. “Marlee does not want to hear about how horny you always are or what you plan to do about it.”
You’re right about that sweetheart.
I’m always horny when you’re around.
Especially with visions of you and the gargantuan sized dildo hanging out in your shower.
Holy hell that was an unexpected sight the other night.
And now it lives rent free in my head.
“It’s fine,” Marlee laughs, waving her hand. “I’ve been around these guys for a long time. I get it. They’re horny toads. Really they’re lucky they’re nice guys or I would think they’re all disgusting.”
I scoff playfully as if she’s insulting me but Marlee points at me before I can say anything, and tells me, “And if you really do snore that loudly, you sure as hell better take your girl to Pound Town before your head hits that pillow. She deserves that much for putting up with your crazy.”
She sure as hell does.
And if I knew she felt the same way, I would give her the ride of a lifetime.
“Girl, preach!” I raise my hand and high-five Marlee, thanking her again as she walks away to hand out other room keys.
Layken merely chuckles and shakes her head. “Horny toad is right.”
“Only for you, Naughty.”
Phew.
That was close.
I lean down and grab both of our bags because my wife will never carry her own bag while I’m her husband.
“Ready?” I ask with a smirk coupled with a knowing look of relief.
Her expression mirrors mine. “Yep. Let’s get out of here.”
One room.
With Layken.
All week.
This ought to be fun.
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry!” she exclaims when the elevator doors close in front of us. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I chuckle and rub her back. “That was definitely a close one but you did great.”
The elevator doors open and we step forward to our suite. Since I have our bags, Layken unlocks the door with the card in her hand and then pushes the door open.
Just as I suspected.
There’s only one bed.
And I know it’s the first thing she notices.
The second thing she notices?
The couch is fucking tiny.
A little two-seater.
The only furniture in the room other than a king-sized bed along the far-left wall is a brown leather chair and a small table in front of an electric fireplace. Oh, and a jacuzzi bathtub.
Fuck me.
Bring on the newlywed bathtime!
Watching her eyes fall to the oversized tub, I can tell there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell she’ll want to get in there with me.
At least not while she’s sober.
“Wow! Look at that view,” I say, trying to pull her thoughts away from the elephant in the room.
Though smaller than I would have expected for a honeymoon suite, the space is rich with warm soothing colors and textures creating a sense of calm and relaxation all around. The bed faces a set of floor-to-ceiling glass windows and doors that give way to a private balcony. The snowy mountains right outside our door are breathtaking.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I ask, opening the glass doors and breathing in the frosty air.
“It really is.” She nods, inhaling a deep breath letting the cold air sweep over her body. “It’s the perfect spot to curl up with a book in front of a warm fireplace and read all day.”
Trying to lighten the tension I cock my head, the corner of my mouth turned up. “I’m pretty sure this room wasn’t meant for book reading, Naughty.”
“Yeah well, it probably wasn’t meant for newlyweds who were so drunk they don’t remember much about getting married in the first place.”
Ooh.
Touché.
She turns back to grab her suitcase, taking another look around the room. Almost as if she closes and then opens her eyes again, a larger sofa or a second bed will appear.
Putting her mind at ease, I gently tell her, “Don’t worry, Lake. I’ll take the couch. You can have the bed.”
She lifts her head and her eyes pierce mine. “What?” She shakes her head. “No, no, no. That’s dumb. I’ll take the couch. You need the bed.”
I scowl. “Why do I need a bed?”
“Griff, come on,” she says, head cocked at an angle. “You have a game tomorrow. You need a good night’s sleep. I’m nobody here. I’m just a plus-one.”
The fuck?
Why would she say that?
“You’re not a nobody, Layken.” The fact she even thinks that makes me angry. “And you’re not just a plus-one. You’re my wife and my wife sleeps in a goddamn bed. End of story.”
She softens, her shoulders falling. “Griffin, you’re being?—”
“A gentleman. Yes. I am.” I nod a bit exasperated. “Because how I treat a woman I care about matters, all right?” Gesturing to the bed, I plead, “Please. Sleep in the bed.”
I yank a pillow off one side of the bed and open the closet door to find a bag with two extra blankets and one extra pillow inside. Pulling the blankets from the bag, I use one to cover the tiny loveseat, ignoring the fact she’s probably riddled with guilt and worry while watching me.
And that’s the last thing I want to make her feel.
I don’t care if I’m sore in the morning.
Hell, I don’t even care if I have a bad game because of it.
“Griffin…”
“Relax, Naughty.” Finishing my make-shift bed, I step up to her and kiss her forehead and then smooth my hands across her shoulders and down her arms. “Everything is fine. We can do this, right? We’re good. I’m really sorry I didn’t think about the room situation.” I cringe. “But we did sort of share a bed on our wedding night and lived to tell the tale. If we could do that, we can do this. I promise I’m not here to make you uncomfortable.”
She smiles meekly. “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry. I think I’m up in my head too much. I just don’t want to be a burden. This is your job. Your career.”
“And if I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be.”
“Well…” She lifts a shoulder. “I suppose it could be worse, right?”
Nodding, I say, “Yes. It could always be worse. I could’ve been forced to enjoy this view every morning by myself.”
Giggling, she rolls her eyes. “Tragic.”
That’s the Layken I like to see.
She’s fun when she’s sassy.
This couch might just be harder than the floor.
Not to mention I’m the equivalent of a giant lying on piece of dollhouse furniture.
My body is going to hate me in the morning.
I know I could ask Layken to scoot over and share with me but she didn’t offer and I don’t want to make her uneasy.
I should’ve insisted on two beds but how would I ever explain that to someone who thinks Layken and I are happily married?
Ugh. I don’t see a way around it.
Pulling the other blanket up and over my body, I wriggle around until I find a comfortable spot. My arm rests above my head.
It’s warm in here.
I’m tired.
But I’m not.
I could scroll through my phone until I fall asleep but knowing Layken’s lying over there looking all cute as hell in her pink pajama pants with hearts all over them and a matching shirt has me reeling. I mean I know lots of people wear fun pajama pants, but it’s almost like we were meant to know each other.
Meant to get married.
Meant to fall in love.
Meant to be together.
And yet there’s still so much I don’t know about her.
“You still awake over there?” I finally ask.
“Yep,” she answers. “Haven’t turned the lamp off yet. You okay?”
“Yeah. Will you tell me a bedtime story before you fall asleep?”
Snickering, she rolls over and props herself up on her elbow so she can see me. Even in the dim light of the lamp, I can see her pupils darken at the sight of me without a shirt on.
Eat your heart out, Naughty.
I should’ve gone pantsless too.
Payback for the dildo invasion going on in my brain.
“A bedtime story?” she asks curiously.
“Yeah.”
“What kind of bedtime story do you want?”
Smirking, I hold back my chuckle. “Well, if you’re really letting me choose, I’d tell you to tell me the kinkiest story you can come up with Mrs. Juicy Lucy.”
She giggles again and covers her face with her hand to hide her embarrassment. “Oh God.”
“Okay, kidding, kidding. Really I was just wondering about your bookish life.”
“What about it?”
“Tell me about it. How did you get into writing? What all do you do? I realized earlier when it crossed my mind that I never really asked a lot about it and I’m curious. Do you love it?”
The sincere smile that crosses her face gives me my answer.
“Okay, so that’s a yes.” I grin up at her.
“I do love it, yes.”
“Because?”
“Because it allows me to be creative in a way I never imagined I would ever be able to do. Because it allows me to dream a little.” She pauses, considering what to say next. “Writing allows me to literally make up a story about two people who fall in love and live happily ever after and who doesn’t love a fun love story?”
“So, you really are a hopeless romantic at heart.”
The corners of her pretty pink lips turn up. “Isn’t every woman even if she doesn’t want to admit it?”
“I suppose you could be right. Do you have a lot of readers? I mean…you’ve already published a few books, right?”
“Yep. There are three out there in the world with my name on them.”
“Three books,” I mutter, amazed. “That’s an incredible thing, you know? You literally wrote three books. You wrote them. They’re your words. And people will read them…I don’t know,” I shrug, “until the end of time maybe.”
The thought makes her smile.
“Maybe,” she murmurs.
I roll over and mirror her posture, propping myself up on my elbow too. I’m fascinated by this part of her life.
“So, your readers, are there a lot of them? Do you have some sort of groupies? The Hobb-Goblins or something like that?”
“The Hobb-Goblins?” She snorts and it’s the cutest fucking sound in the world. “That’s a very creative play on my last name. Why didn’t I think of that?”
I laugh with her. “Well? Do you? Are they like crazy fans?”
“Nah.” She reclines back on her pillow so I can’t see her face anymore. “I’m pretty much a nobody right now. I mean I get sales here and there, but no. No crazy fan club yet.”
That’s the second time she’s referred to herself as a nobody today or that she’s unimportant. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now.
“Are you saying those actually exist though? Crazy fan clubs?”
“Oh, hell yeah! Never underestimate romance readers,” she says. “When they love an author and their books, they love hard and fast. I’ve seen it happen many times.”
“How do you get people to know all about you? How do they even know you write books?”
“It’s all social media,” she answers with a heavy sigh. “It’s a long, arduous job making sure I post about them every day to as many social media outlets as possible. It’s a lot of graphic making and ad creation. I have a small email newsletter that I try to send out on a semi-regular basis.”
“A newsletter,” he repeats. “And what do you talk about in a newsletter?”
“Everything from snippets of my personal life in hopes that readers will relate to me, to a little behind the scenes look at my writing process, or short snippets of whatever I’m working on.”
“And you do all that on your own?”
“Yep,” I sigh.
“Why don’t you hire an assistant?”
“Because it doesn’t make sense to hire an assistant if my books aren’t making enough money to actually pay for an assistant. If and when the time comes that I can reinvest my royalties back into the business, then I can think about an assistant. But until then, it’s just me.”
“Damn…”
“Yeah,” she says before she blows out a breath. “It’s a lot. But it’s what I have to do if I want to stay relevant to readers. If I don’t stick with it, they forget who I am and then it’s like starting all over again every time I release a new book.”
“So, the trick is to build momentum. One book into the next?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
Wow.
She’s a rock star.
“You’re amazing, you know that?”
She scoffs. “Hardly.”
“Well, I think you’re amazing. You wrote a fucking book, Naughty. Not many people can say they’ve done that in their lifetime. And you wrote three.”
“Yeah…I guess you’re right.”
“You know I’m right.”
She’s quiet for a few minutes and I wonder if she’s fallen asleep.
“Lake?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you thinking about over there?”
“It’s stupid,” she says with a sigh. “But I was just thinking if only my parents saw it that way.”
“They don’t?”
“Are you kidding?” She scoffs. “They don’t give two shits that I’ve written anything. My mother probably thinks it’s all trash and prays to the God she doesn’t even worship that I’ll get over myself and come back to reality instead of playing in the world of make believe.”
Mother fuckers.
If I’m ever in their presence so help me…
“Am I ever going to meet your parents?” I ask. “Because I’m not sure I can promise that I would keep my mouth shut if they disrespected you.”
“That’s sweet of you, Griffin. I imagine at some point during our marriage you’re going to have to meet them. I won’t be able to hold them off forever. It’s inevitable.”
“Good,” I state with confidence. “I can’t wait.”
Her voice drips with sarcasm. “Yeah. Me either.”
Is she really writing a story about a hockey player?
I wonder what kind of story it is.
Does she think about me when she writes?
I’d totally be up for helping her with a few key scenes if she needed it.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks me when I don’t say anything for a few minutes.
“Are you really working on a story about a hockey player?”
“Yes.”
Man, I wish I could see her face.
“And is his name Griffin? Because I’ve been told that’s a sexy name. Totally manly and all that.”
Her giggle makes me smile. “Is that so?”
“Mhmm.” I close my heavy-lidded eyes, feeling myself begin to drift off.
“Well, I’m sorry to say my character’s name is not Griffin. It’s Todd.”
“Pbft! Griffin’s totally sexier than Todd.”
I swear to God before I actually fall asleep I hear her whisper, “Yes. Yes he is.”
“What’s the matter with you, Ollenberg?” August asks when he steps into the gym for our morning workout. “You’re moving around this place like your grandmother this morning. Did you skip your pre-workout drink or what?”
“Nah. Just a little sore, that’s all.”
Ledger whistles from his seat at the stationary bike. “Sore, huh? Does that mean what I think it means?”
I chuckle and shake my head because they’re about to be very disappointed in me. “Nope.” I lean down to my duffel bag to find my stretch bands. “It means I slept on the tiny couch last night so Layken could have the bed. That’s all.”
Harrison cocks his head. “Wait, what? You slept on the couch?”
“Yep.”
“What the hell for?” Barrett asks with a scowl. “It’s fucking game day and now you’re a knotted tight mess. She should know that.”
“Hey.” I stand up tall, stretch bands in my hand. “Don’t talk about my wife like she’s a cruel ass bitch. She knows it’s gameday and she didn’t want me to sleep on the couch either. I insisted.”
Bodhi gives me a respectful nod and I’m grateful the kid gets it even though it’s probably Corrigan who puts him in his place when it comes to her best friend.
Glancing quickly around the room, I notice the questioning looks on all the guys’ faces.
“Oh, come on, guys. You didn’t really think I was going to expect her to share a bed with me, did you? I’m not going to force myself on her.”
“But you’re married,” Bear scoffs. “The least she could do is scoot over and give you a little space.”
“I thought you guys were in the honeymoon suite,” Ledger adds. “I heard Marlee talking about it.”
“Yeah well this isn’t California. It’s Boulder. The honeymoon suites look pretty much like your rooms I imagine. Except instead of two queen beds, there’s one king.”
“The couch wasn’t bigger?” Oliver asks.
“Nope just a loveseat. Then a table and chair and a fireplace. The view is killer though. Private balcony with floor to ceiling windows. It’s really quite nice.”
“That was kind of you to give your wife the bed, Griff,” Oliver says.
Lowering myself to the floor, I stretch my legs out in front of me and hook my band over my feet. “I didn’t do anything any of you guys wouldn’t do if you were in the same situation.”
August smirks. “You’re still allowed to say it fucking sucks though, bro.”
A regretful smile spreads across my face. “Oh, it definitely sucked. I am not meant to sleep on tiny furniture and my body is definitely hating me right now. But I’ll be fine once I get these stretches in.”
“You nervous, man?” Bodhi caps my shoulder as I lace up my skate preparing to take the ice for practice.
Arching a brow, I stare at him. “Why the hell would I be nervous?”
“Because your wife is here watching you play for the first time,” he explains. “I just thought maybe that would make you nervous.”
Nervous?
Nah.
Excited?
Sure.
I’m a kick ass hockey player and I know it.
She’s been to home games over the last couple weeks but when we’ve had one-nighters away, she’s stayed home so she can get work done or look for a new full-time job. I know those things are important to her and I don’t want to take her away from being able to rebuild her life the way she wants it. But having Layken here now, watching me play, only adds fuel to my inner fire.
I pat Bodhi on the back and tell him, “I understand that might have made you nervous at one point, Pickle Pants, but I’m good. I can play hockey in my damn sleep. Come on, we’ve got a game to prepare for.”
And with that I step out of the tunnel and onto the ice.
And fall flat on my fucking face.
WHACK
“Fuck!”
What the?
The guys enter the ice, chuckling as they skate around me.
“Watch your step, Griff,” Ledger warns.
“Hey, yeah,” Harrison adds. “The ice is slippery, bro.”
“Wow, Layken must’ve done a real number on you, huh?” Oliver teases.
I take one second to glance up where the ladies are sitting and notice that they’re all watching me now.
Fucking great.
Because this isn’t embarrassing as hell.
“Yeah thanks, assholes,” I say as I bring my foot back to the ice and hoist myself up.
And slip and fall all over again.
“Mother fucker!”
I try again and again and again to get myself up and with each try, I slip and fall.
On my knees.
On my hip.
On my side.
It’s like my legs are fucking jelly and my skates are…
Hold up…
My skates…
“I swear to God…”
Already seated on the ice, I slide myself over until I’m against the wall so I can sit up and inspect my skates. Sure enough, when I lift my foot up to inspect the blade, I find that they’ve been taped with clear tape.
“Son of a goddamn bitch,” I mumble. And then I shout, “Alright, who’s the fucking prick who taped my skates?”
The guys have a hearty laugh at my expense and then Bodhi skates over to me, blowing ice in my face when he stops himself. Then he bends down, smiles at me, throws me a fucking wink, and says, “Just wanted to say thanks for the pickle pants, Slippy Griffy.” He kisses his glove and then taps my helmet before skating away to rejoin the team.
“Well played, Roche,” I concede, shaking my head at my own misfortune and laughing at Bodhi’s payback for the prank I pulled on him last season. “Well fucking played.”
I toss my glove to the side and then rip the tape off my skates in order to steady myself on my feet. This time, I don’t slip and fall.
Thank fuck.
I glance up at the ladies one more time and Layken smiles at me, her hand rising in a small wave. She looks really pretty today. Her golden hair hangs in curls past her shoulders. I’ve noticed she doesn’t wear it down a lot, but when she does I really like it. I note what she’s wearing today and then quickly realize I never gave her a jersey.
Dammit.
Why didn’t I give her one?
The last thing I want is for her to wear anything tonight with one of the other guys’ names on it.
Talk about embarrassment.
I make a mental note to make sure she’s properly dressed before the game starts and then rejoin the guys to focus on today’s game prep.