Chapter 4
HARPER
Harper’s heart slammed against her ribs, loud enough she was certain someone nearby could hear it.
The moment stretched in her mind—her voice cutting into a conversation that hadn’t involved her, the way every head had turned, the weight of the lie landing the second she’d said it out loud.
This wasn’t just embarrassing. This was catastrophic.
For her.
For Marcus.
For Toby, who wasn’t even here tonight. No, he was at home with his foot on a pillow and healing from surgery. She was filling in for him – and breaking every rule he’d set apparently.
She had caused a penalty in the last game.
She had removed the mascot mask.
And now?
She claimed to be married… to a married man.
And that married man, Marcus Shaw, was staring at her like she’d lost her freakin’ mind… and maybe she had.
There was no other explanation for why a rational adult woman would insert herself into a high-stakes conversation that had nothing to do with her, fabricate a marriage, and make herself the centerpiece of a lie that was absolutely, inevitably going to unravel the second the real Mrs. Shaw showed up.
Because she would show up, wouldn’t she?
And Harper knew, deep in her bones, that she wouldn’t look anything like her. She imagined the scene with sickening clarity—someone politely asking why another woman had been at the charity auction claiming to be Mrs. Shaw… and of course, the fallout that would follow.
If the roles were reversed? If she were the wife?
Oh, she’d lose it – times ten.
Lose it in a way that probably ended with security being called.
Maybe handcuffs. Definitely tears. Infidelity was her biggest pet peeve—slimy men who cheated and thought they could skate by on charm alone.
Uh, hard NO. She’d lived that nightmare once before.
One painfully memorable date, a ringing phone, a woman on the other end asking why her husband wasn’t home.
Clarity had struck like a lightning bolt that night. She had zero interest in reliving another lightning strike – no thank you.
“I can explain…” Harper began the second they stepped into the hallway, her voice softer now, stripped of its earlier bravado.
“Thanks,” Marcus cut in.
She didn’t even register the tone—too busy drowning in guilt and anxiety, her thoughts tripping over one another as she rushed ahead.
“I wasn’t thinking,” she admitted quickly. “They were cornering you, and I knew you needed someone. Toby told me about that weird clause in the contracts—the one about image and stability, and I thought if I played along for two seconds, it would get you out of it. You seemed nice, and—”
“I appreciate it.”
Her stomach dropped.
“I’ve gotten us into a mess,” she said, words tumbling out faster. “This is going to cause trouble. I shouldn’t have butted in—”
“You saved my rear tonight.”
“I ruined things—”
“Nah.”
She blinked at him, thrown completely off balance.
“Um,” she said, grasping for the most immediate, logical concern. “When your wife gets here—and I’m assuming she’s on her way or—”
“That’s the problem,” Marcus said, and the words were a mere whisper, right before his voice lowered even further.
“I’m not married.” He glanced around the hallway instinctively before looking back at her, his expression serious.
“I meant it when I said you saved me. I never thought they’d enforce that stupid clause.
I didn’t think they’d even ask – and now I’m stuck. ”
Harper sucked in a sharp breath.
“Oh my gosh, they absolutely will,” she hissed in a hushed voice. “Toby told me—Toby the real mascot—that one of the higher-ups straight up said they pass on players who are single, won’t get married, or already have too much personal drama. They almost passed on Boucher and—”
“What?” Marcus’s eyes widened.
“You did not hear that from me!” she yelped, jabbing a blue furry finger into his chest without thinking.
They both froze, staring down at it.
Then they looked at each other.
And burst out laughing—short, nervous, completely unhinged laughter that came from pure panic rather than humor. When it faded, the reality rushed back in just as fast. Harper swallowed, her chest tight again.
“So… what are we going to do?” Her voice wavered despite her attempt to sound steady. “What are you going to do?”
Marcus exhaled slowly. “We keep it up. We stick to the story.”
Her stomach twisted. “Or…?”
He looked up. Crystalline sea green eyes met her brown ones as her breath caught in her chest at the bewildered, resolved, and nervous look on his face.
Her own intestines were tied in knots, so she understood completely whatever mess of emotions he was swimming in.
He hesitated just long enough for dread to bloom from her anxiety as he spoke the words that she never imagined hearing anytime soon, much less today, wearing a blue fur suit.
“Or,” he said quietly, “we could get married – for real. What are you doing tomorrow morning?”
“Apparently, saying my vows with my fake husband,” she whispered nervously, nodding. She might not have expected this, might be nervous, and might be terrified to be jumping into a massive mistake that couldn’t be undone easily, however, one thing was true.
She wasn’t stupid.
And Marcus Shaw was beyond hot.
Okay, maybe that’s two things that were true, she thought wildly as he drew in a breath, nodding and then clasping her furry hand, walking her back into the charity auction – together.
“Fake it until you make it, right?” he said under his breath and shot her a nervous look.
She nodded.