Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
brODY
I’m surprised when I roll over and stretch to find a handful of warm soft flesh next to me, and then the realization that this is Bianca Brooks, my untouchable agent that I’m touching, sends a surge of heat to my morning wood.
She emits a small puff of air through her open mouth that sounds like a kitten snoring, and my automatic smile reaches deep inside me, getting under my skin so far I can feel it in my chest. Shaking my head, I turn away and force myself from the bed of temptation.
I’ve never been one to avoid trouble, or it hasn’t been my forte up until now, but Bianca Brooks is the kind of trouble I draw the line at.
Except last night, as I recall, there were no lines. Shit.
That was just fun, right? She gets it. She knows it wasn’t serious—she knows the marriage is fake and all that talk of romance and marriage was just… casual talk. Right?
I throw on some sweats and a t-shirt and quietly leave her to sleep. Although I can’t stop myself from glancing back at her lying in my bed because she looks so fucking adorable. And sexy, even asleep.
Clearly, I need coffee. So I clean up and head to the kitchen to get my good old-fashioned Mr. Coffee pot going.
Axbell shuffles past the kitchen, and I hear a thud. I turn to greet him, but I’m surprised to find him wearing a coat, standing in the open space between the kitchen and the entryway with three duffel bags sitting at his feet.
“Where are you going?”
“Dude, it’s obvious. I’m not going to room with you and your new bride. That would be… way more rude and stupid than I am.” He screws up his face. “You’re not suggesting I should stay?” The incredulousness in his voice makes it rise a few decibels.
“You know we’re not really…”
“Are you sure about that?”
I laugh because he’s being his goofy self.
“The way I see it, you might as well be for real. After last night—”
At that moment, I stop listening to Ax because Brooks comes into view, her hair arranged in that sexy messy morning-after look, and her lips pouty and pink.
She sashays down the hall in my robe, the V open enough to show a good look at her healthy cleavage, while her hips swing wide. Is she actually sashaying?
My eyes are riveted, and so are Axbell’s. I almost slap his head, but remember I’m an adult and this isn’t the locker room. Instead, he feels my death glare and looks away from Brooks in all her morning sex-goddess glory.
“You don’t have to leave, Axbell,” she says. Her expression is guilty as she glances at Ax’s bags. “This is your home. I’ll leave.” She avoids my eyes, and I think she means it.
“No way. I’m not going to break up a marriage,” he says. “Besides, I already called Windy and I’m moving in with him.”
“What the fuck?” I abandon my coffee and feel like I need a whiskey instead. “You’re moving in with Windy? I thought you couldn’t stand him.”
“I like him fine. It’s you who doesn’t like him because he gives you shit—I mean a hard time—and I know you think it’s because he’s jealous as fuck, and you’re probably right.” Ax shrugs. “Can’t say I blame him. Or you. Either way, I think he’s a good dude.”
“This is temporary.” I gesture at Brooks.
I’m not crazy about losing my roommate because he’s my best friend on the team, especially since he’s leaving over his mistaken belief that I’m actually married in spite of my insistence that I’m not.
But since he’s a grown-ass man and bigger than me, there doesn’t seem to be a damn thing I can do about it.
Logic and reason don’t seem to be working.
“Ax, you know we’re not married, right?” Brooks sounds panicked, like she’s not sure herself anymore.
Or that could be me caught up in pretend-land.
“It’s not real. We never got a license or had a ceremony or—“ she waves her hands, then lowers her voice to a worrying tremble. “What about Brody? I can’t be responsible for his best friend leaving—”
Ax puts up his hands, signaling her to stop, looking sympathetic.
“How about if you have me over for pizza, one night a week? That way poor Brody won’t feel like he’s losing a friend.
” He tosses me a smirk, and I aim a warning glare at him.
I notice he didn’t acknowledge that my marriage to Brooks, or maybe I should call her Bianca after last night—is fake.
Bianca smiles, shaking Ax’s hand. “It’s a deal.”
Then it hits me that she’s looking out for me again, worried about coming between my friendship with Ax. The urge to give her a big hug waves over me.
“It’s a deal,” I agree, relieved she insists she should be the one to leave again.
Not sure why that’s a problem—aside from the fact that it would put an end to our fake marriage, and the short-lived nature of it may raise eyebrows.
May even cause some to think—correctly—that it was all a hoax.
I might even lose the Cavalaro Motors sponsorship deal.
Then Jett would kick Bianca’s ass out of his agency. Before I can spin out my speculations any further, Ax puts out a hand to me.
I take it, and he hauls me in for a sideways hug and back thump.
“Later. See you at the rink.” He wiggles his brows. “Don’t be too late.”
I give him the finger because no way am I going to be late. Even if I’m not skating, I’ll be at the meeting and in the training room for some work, and I especially want to be there when Doc Scully gets the results from the CT scan.
When the door closes behind Ax, Bianca and I are standing there in the kitchen on opposite sides of the massive marble-topped island, a gleaming barrier between us.
Never mind that we’re wearing matching gold wedding bands.
“Coach.” I nod from where I sit in the ice pool. “Don’t mind me if I don’t stand.”
Jason Hall, a fellow center in his fifth year, sits in the ice pool next to me and snorts a laugh.
“Sabe tells us there’s going to be a belated wedding reception for you and Bianca Brooks. I’m looking forward to it.”
I’m speechless for a flicker, thinking murderous thoughts about Sabien and trying to figure out the best way to maim him without keeping him off the ice.
A tattoo of the devil on his butt maybe?
His wife would never speak to me again, but it might be worth it.
Shit. A wedding reception will involve inviting my family, and there’s no way I want to go through that level of deception.
I’m not sure my acting skills would hold up to my mom’s scrutiny. And there’s no way I can tell her the truth about the stuck wedding band and the Vegas chorus girl.
“You okay?” Coach says when I don’t respond.
I force a smile and nod. I don’t know what else to say that might be appropriate for a newlywed with his marriage possibly on the rocks—because we have to make that part of the story work too—for when we call it quits. Shit, this is messed up.
Without prompting, he adds, “The transition from honeymoon to real life can be tough, especially when it’s sudden, as in your case.”
I groan inside because my coach is actually feeding me his wisdom about married life. The devil himself, Sabien, enters the room behind Coach, slapping me on the back and rescuing me from this conversation with Coach.
I’d be grateful, but since he’s the cause of the trouble, I want to punch him. The urge to punch him is becoming so frequent I’m starting to worry I might haul off and actually give him a bloody nose one day soon.
Hopefully, my patience outlasts my marriage. I mean fake-marriage.
“You about finished here?” Sabe asks.
Jason climbs from the pool in answer, and I follow suit.
Doc Scully comes into the locker room following the team after the guys come in for the skate around. I’m toweling off from my session in the ice pool, planning optimistically for getting game time tonight. Jason is dressing in the cubby next to me.
“You’re just the two I wanted to see,” Doc says, looking annoyed like he’s been hunting for us.
“We were chilling together in the ice pool, pun intended,” I say. Jason laughs. Doc doesn’t.
“I got your latest MRI results back, Jason, and I got your CT scan results, Brody. Follow me to my office.”
Coach Logan and Assistant Coach Nash join us in Doc’s office, and it’s standing room only. Coach Logan closes the door behind him and stands with his arms folded, wearing the best poker face I’ve ever seen.
My heart hammers unnecessarily, but I manage to keep my face passive. I shouldn’t be sweating this game as if my whole career depends on it, but I’ve been on edge ever since All-Star weekend began. I thumb the wedding band on my finger. The move is getting to be a habit.
An image of Bianca takes shape in my mind, and what a shape she has—voluptuous, soft, and ready for sin. And the way she—
“Have a seat, boys.” Doc gestures for me and Jason to sit in his two guest chairs. I’d rather not sit, but this is no time to be a dick. Jason remains silent and sits. So do I.
“Spill it, Doc. Am I playing tonight or not?” I temper my impatience with a grin.
He scowls. “You play—but with very limited playing time. You’ll need to ease your way back into competitive-level activity.
Work at 50 percent at tomorrow’s practice and work your way up to a hundred percent incrementally over the next week.
We’ll increase your playing time by a few minutes a game until you’re back to full scale.
” He stops and checks to see if I’ve absorbed his message.
“I get it. Ease back into activity.”
“It’s important, son. For everyone, but especially for you since it’s your brain on the line and at this time, there are no fixes for scrambled brains.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod, trying to rebuff his words while he’s trying to impress me with them. I need to play without fear, or what’s the point? If I can’t give it my best, then I should hang up my skates—and that’s not happening.
I wisely keep these thoughts to myself.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Doc says in a low voice. “Don’t.”