Chapter 22
NASH
The first game of the preseason. My first time skating out fully dressed with my teammates since we missed the playoffs last April.
You never know how many of these you have. Any season could be your last. Any game could be your last. One thing’s for sure, now that I’m pushing thirty, I can hear the clock ticking.
When I was younger, playing in high school and college and early in my pro career, I took these moments for granted. I just assumed that these opening games would continue to be part of my life every year, like the sun rising in the morning.
Now I’m old and wise enough to know that’s not true. I’m not sure how many seasons I have left, but I know it’s a finite number. I know my last one is going to come sooner than I want it to.
I’ve been telling myself to appreciate it all more, to take time and let it sink in.
So, I should be relishing this moment, as we all take our positions for the puck drop that inaugurates the preseason. I should want to savor it, to drink it in and appreciate it for as long as I can.
Instead, I’m impatient for it to be over. Right now, this rink isn’t the place I want to be the most.
Right now, I want to be home.
I’ve never felt that way before, wanting to be home instead of on the ice. But today, it’s different.
Because today, Piper is moving into my house.
I’d rather be helping my fake wife move into my house instead of playing the game I’ve dedicated my life to. That’s a concerning realization. Luckily, I can’t dwell on it too long, because the referee releases the puck.
Cooper wins the face-off and dumps the puck back to Adriano. For the next twenty minutes, I only think about hockey.
Denver’s team has built up a ton of buzz in the offseason. They made a couple big trades, and a promising rookie they drafted, Rhett Jensen, decided to leave college and come up to the pros.
They’re playing with a lot of heart and determination, just like we are. No one’s taking this preseason game lightly, with the puck hotly contested all period long and plenty of shots on goal from both sides. But the first period still ends scoreless.
In the second period, Hayden intercepts a pass and grabs the puck, passing it to Adriano, who uses his insane speed to skate up the ice in a breakaway.
His shot ricochets off the Denver goal post, but it bounces right in my direction, and I slap shot it into the net for our first score of the season.
“Fuck yeah, Nash!” Hayden exclaims, jumping onto my back.
“Hell of a shot there, Miller,” Cooper says, slapping me on the helmet after I shrug Hayden off.
“You’re welcome for the setup,” Adriano quips.
Even Vaughn strips off one of his gloves to shoot me a thumbs-up from our net.
“That shot was insane, Nash,” Noah says, skating up to join the mini celebration. “How the hell’d you pull that off?”
I grin. “What can I say? I guess I play better as a married man.”
When I park my truck and look through my windshield into the front yard, my jaw almost falls into my lap.
Fucking hell.
Piper is lying on a beach chair, in a tiny bikini, sunbathing in front of my house.
Heat pumps through my blood, desire roaring to life behind my chest. This is how a man is supposed to feel about his wife. But this marriage is fake, and I need to be able to keep my composure if I’m going to live with Piper for a couple months and not go insane.
My eyelids have ceased to work. My eyes devour the sight of Piper’s body, her sun-kissed skin making my mouth water, making my palms buzz with the thought of how it would feel to rake them across her curves.
She sits up, noticing I’m here, propping her elbows back in a way that makes her full, perky tits press together. My stomach’s trying to jump into my throat. I imagine the sight of those tits spilling out of her top, and my teeth press together.
She waves, and I realize I’ve been sitting here staring at her for way too long. I get myself together as best I can and swing out of the truck.
As I walk toward the fence, I notice a small inflatable pool next to Piper. It’s filled with water, and Cheesecake is half submerged in it, pushing a floating frog toy around with her snout.
The sight of Piper and the animal who’s forced herself on me as my pseudo-pet relaxing in my front yard together on a nice, sunny day … it makes my stomach feel funny.
“Hey,” I say as I step through the fence door; but just at that moment Piper goes to stand up, and seeing the movement of her long, shapely legs makes the word come out of my mouth in an embarrassing squeak.
“Welcome home,” Piper says, smiling. Fuck me, hearing those words from Piper’s mouth really makes my stomach feel funny. “Congratulations on the win.”
Did she watch my game? Is that how she spent the first evening in my house, watching me play—watching me score?
Pressure swells behind my chest, a silly pride at the thought that maybe my wife even cheered when I scored our first goal of the season.
Keeping my gaze from dipping and scanning her un-fucking-real body while she’s standing right in front of me takes superhuman effort. But somehow I manage.
I nod to the pool. “Hanging out with Cheesecake, huh?”
“She’s very good company. Isn’t that right, Cheesy?” she calls to the capybara.
Cheesecake points her head in our direction, blankly considers us with her eyes for a moment, before pulling all her attention back to her little frog pool toy.
Piper laughs. “I got to know some of the staff who work at the petting zoo. I asked them if they had anything for her to wade in since she likes to hang out around the house, and they gave me this pool.”
Piper hops over to pet Cheesecake. She bends over to do it, her ass facing me in that sinful fucking bikini bottom, and I could pass out on the spot. My cock’s about two seconds away from being stiff enough in my jeans to hang a hat on, so I blurt out an excuse to go inside.
I make my way to the bathroom for some privacy. I wrench the sink faucet to its coldest setting and splash some frigid water on my face and neck, trying to cool down the flames licking through my bloodstream.
I might have seriously underestimated the effect that living with my wife would have on me.
When she asked if she could move in, I immediately agreed. After all she’s been through, I don’t want anything to stand in her way of getting her inheritance and being able to buy the bakery on her own terms.
Plus, the thought of living with Piper, talking to her every day, being there when she comes home from her work at the bakery, her being home when I come back from a game … something about it touched something inside me that’s sat dormant for a long, long time.
I didn’t think about any of the complications.
I didn’t think about how I might be slowly—or quickly—driven insane trying to control my attraction when we’re in this snug rancher together.
I didn’t think about where she’s going to sleep.
Shit. I guess what I mean is, I didn’t think about where I’m going to sleep. I’ll let her have my bed, obviously.
I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.
After I feel sufficiently cooled down, I grab a towel to dry my face. Once I feel put-together, I step outside.
And immediately feel like I’m falling to pieces again. Because now Piper is in my kitchen, leaning the curve of her hip against the counter, looking my direction with her arms folded over her chest and her tits pressed up.
I’m a fucking goner.
“I was petting Cheesecake when she randomly jumped out of the pool and walked away,” Piper says.
Even though I’m knotted up from head to toe—especially in my groin—that gets a laugh out of me. “Yeah, she’ll do that. She’ll stroll over, demand all of your attention, then up and leave the second she gets bored of you. She’s fickle.”
“I’ll win her over before the month is out,” Piper says.
“Doubt it.”
She sticks her tongue out at me. I’m pretty sure I’d come right now if that wet, pink tip just flicked against my cock.
I quickly check myself. This is fake. I’m doing this so she can get the inheritance she deserves and so she doesn’t succumb to desperation and get back with her cheating piece of shit ex. I shouldn’t be having perverted thoughts of her while doing so.
“When am I gonna see you in commercials, by the way?”
I’m thankful that her question catches me so off guard that I don’t dwell on my previous thoughts anymore. “Huh?”
“Those sponsorships you want more of. Have you gotten any yet?”
Oh, shit. Right. That’s the bullshit reason I gave her for how I’d benefit from this marriage.
I don’t want Piper knowing I just went through all this because I couldn’t bear the thought of her getting back together with Crew. That truth might make things awkward. She could get the wrong idea. Like that I’m jealous or something, even though I barely know her.
I wasn’t going to try to get any sponsorships. That shit’s all more trouble than it’s worth, in my opinion. My hockey contract pays me more than I could spend in a lifetime. But I guess I should find something, now, just to sell the fib.
“My agent’s working on it,” I lie. A bad feeling twists through me. It doesn’t feel good lying to my wife, even about something inconsequential like this.
She walks forward into the living room area, closer to me, and the house feels hotter by about fifteen degrees.
“Your place is nice,” she says, looking around.
“Our place.” I don’t want her to feel like a guest while she’s here. I want her to feel at home. “Do you need help moving any of your stuff in?”
“No,” she shakes her head, “Hallie and I got it done yesterday.”
“Is any of your stuff still at …” my nose twitches, “Crew’s place?”
She shakes her head again. “I cleared out all my stuff one day when he was at work and left my key.”
“Good.”
Piper picks up an oversized t-shirt that was draped over the backrest of the couch and slides it on. Thank fuck. My heart rate eases to a healthier level.
“I picked up an air mattress, too, by the way.”
I frown. “Why?”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Uh, because I don’t want to sleep on the floor?”
My brow furrows. “Why would you think …” Does she think I’m letting her sleep on an air mattress? “You’ll sleep in my bed.”
She sits on the armrest of the couch, the hem of her shirt riding up and exposing way too much of her thigh. She gives me a chiding look. “Awfully forward, aren’t we, husband?”
Heat climbs up my neck. “I mean, it’s your bed, now. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“No way. It’s your house.”
“It’s our house, and no wife of mine is sleeping on a damn blow-up mattress.”
She crosses her arms, her eyes finding mine with a challenging look. “Bossy, much?”
I take a long stride towards her, feeling like I’m stepping through a thick cloud of static. “When it comes to my wife’s comfort? Maybe I am.”
Something mischievous tips into her expression. “So you’ll do anything to make me feel at home?”
“That’s right.”
“What if I told you I don’t like sleeping alone?”
My heart bounces against my ribcage. Electric pressure pulses at the base of my spine, and my brain scatters. “I—I—” I stutter.
Piper laughs, putting me out of my misery.
“Oh, hubby, you’re too easy.” She’s still laughing as she pushes up from the armrest and walks back outside, picking up a water bottle and a book along the way.
“I think I’m going to have a lot of fun messing with you these next couple months,” she says before the screen door clatters behind her.
My wife might be more than I bargained for.