Chapter 5
HARPER
Yeah, last night was not what Harper expected.
She was welcomed and treated like she was some long-lost friend who’d finally made an appearance at a holiday event.
She was hugged by all sorts of wives, shook hands with other players, the owner, the coach, and the rest of the staff.
Toby never mentioned how close everyone was – nor did she expect anything like this.
And as a fan of hockey, a fan of the Wolverines – filling in as the mascot was more than she could have ever imagined, but last night took the proverbial cake.
Marcus Shaw was attentive, so polite, and even walked her to her car at the end of the evening, saying ‘I’ll see you at home’ for anyone who might be in the parking lot listening – and then slipped her his phone number on a napkin.
So of course, she texted him.
Remember – not stupid…
Hey, guess we should touch base on things tomorrow when we can talk away from everyone – eh? Couldn’t really talk much at the party, could we?
The text message was read when she went to bed, but he hadn’t commented yet.
This morning however, was another story.
She rolled over, turned off the alarm on her phone, and saw the three unread text messages – each sent ten minutes apart, like he was thinking about things or trying to figure out what to say.
Sorry – just got home.
Yup – let’s say our ‘I dos’ tomorrow.
Call me when you get this.
I’m wondering if they are going to look in my file for my marriage certificate now. I really appreciate you bailing me out last night, and I promise - I’ll make this up to you.
“Make this up to me?” she chuckled, staring at her cell phone. “Dude, this is literally like my dream come true. For three hours last night at the party, I was your pretend wife… that was ‘mission accomplished’ in my head.”
Flicking up the photo of him that was her wallpaper on her cell phone, she couldn’t help but smile as she clicked dial and heard it ring. Maybe she was hallucinating, dreaming, or she’d lost her mind, because there was no way this was a legit phone number for her hockey crush, Marcus Shaw.
Things like this happened to other people.
She didn’t buy lotto tickets because she couldn’t win a free T-shirt, much less anything of monetary value. She never won an extra spin, a free coffee, a second chance, whatever.
“Hello?” a man’s voice answered – and she jumped.
“Oh crap! You’re real?” she blurted out and then winced. Best phone etiquette ever, Harper. Way to be charming and flirty with your favorite hockey player. “Um, hi. Sorry about that. There was a… a spider.”
“Man, I hate spiders,” he chuckled easily in a husky morning voice that she would never forget.
That was not the SportsCenter voice, it sure wasn’t a radio interviewer voice, or media commentary voice…
oh no, that was a ‘I-just-woke-up-rolled-over-and-saw-you-there’ sort of sexy voice that could not be described.
So, of course, her brain which was only working haphazardly, decided to do a full shut-down and restart, which set her tongue loose in the worst way possible.
“Forget the spiders, say ‘Baby, get over here’…” she choked out.
“Huh?”
“Or ‘I dreamed about you last night’…” she continued, blabbing like a boulder rolling downhill on a Bugs Bunny cartoon, gathering debris and wiping the landscape clear of anything in its path.
“Better yet, take that husky hoarse voice and say something kinky like ‘back that dump truck up and let’s cuddle’…
or ‘What are you wearing?’ – yeah, in fact, do that one. ”
“Oh my gosh,” he chuckled hoarsely as something in her brain suddenly fired and screamed in silent horror. She pulled the phone away as if she couldn’t believe that she’d actually said that aloud - only to hear the faintest version of her request.
He said it.
She missed it.
“Ohhhnoooo!” she wailed desperately in full-blown dismay. “Say it again! Say it again! I missed it!”
“I’m not sure I have it in me – I mean, I don’t say things like that… and having you call me this morning was to discuss the matter at hand, not to talk dirty to you. Although I’m gonna file those little nuggets away in case I need to use them someday.”
“On me?” she perked up instantly, sitting up in bed.
“On whatever female I’m dating or married to in the distant future,” he amended. “Got any other comments I should know that turn on women?”
“No,” she whispered in mortification and understanding. “Fresh out of ideas now…” especially if it’s not for me. Sheesh!
“Back to the problem,” Marcus began and cleared his throat. “I am proposing that…”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t even hear what I said…”
“You proposed – I accepted.”
“I think you misunderstood what…”
“You proposed. I am willing to marry you. Case closed.”
“I have conditions, which I was proposing to go over with you.”
“I have conditions too.”
“Let’s have ‘em…”
“You first,” she shot back, her mind whirling. She didn’t have any conditions, but because he said it, she wanted to participate in an active negotiation if this… and other things were on the table.
“I was going to suggest we get married…”
“Hallelujah!”
“On paper…” he amended.
“Oh… yay?” she volunteered weakly and tried to sound just as happy.
“And then we can get divorced after the season, so you’d be stuck with me for about three months, and then we’re both in the clear. Now, what are your conditions?”
“Um,” she began, and then drew in a deep, shaky breath. If this was her shot, her chance, her everything – she was going all-in. We’re talking balls to the wall, self-destruction, no shame-in-my-game strategy. “I have a few conditions.”
“I’ve got paper – go ahead…”
He was gonna write this down? Oh my…
“First off, we take photos together and we’re seen publicly. I’m not going to hide away or be cast into some hidey-hole to wait out my time. I want to be seen at your side.”
“I see…”
“Secondly, full-on PDA.”
“I don’t believe in guns.”
“That’s the NRA. I’m talking PDA – public displays of affection.”
“Now hang on…”
“Nope – these are my non-negotiables. If we are in public, you have to hold my hand, pat my butt, or kiss me. I want no one to mistake the fact that we’re happily married for however brief a time it is.”
“Interesting. Anything else?”
“Two more things,” she lobbed frantically, thinking how to phrase it or how to cram her wildest fantasies into two more requests.
“Go ahead,” he chuckled huskily. “I’m waiting.”
“It’s a real marriage in the bedroom,” she said quickly, feeling her face flood with shame at what she was asking for – especially when she heard him choking on something as he began coughing wildly in the phone.
“You wanna…” he rasped between coughs.
“Yes.”
“Noooo…”
“If we’re married then…”
“You decided to tell people we were married,” he countered in a hoarse voice, obviously having something go down the wrong pipe. “That wasn’t my choice.”
“They were pressuring you for a wife.”
“So?”
“Are you married?”
“No,” he hesitated and drew in a deep breath, clearing his throat once more. “Look, if we do this, then I agree with you that it needs to look real. I’m fine with the public displays of affection. I’m fine with having you on my arm in public… but sleeping together is crossing a line for me.”
She was quiet, her mind racing, because she did not want him to back out.
“What if,” she began nervously. “What if we slept together in one room without having sex – unless we felt like it, but…”
“But what?”
“But you have to say something to me every night… in the voice.”
“The voice?”
“That husky, sultry, sexy voice that you used to answer the phone.”
He chuckled, obviously taken aback and shy, which only made him more endearing in that moment. Oh man, this might be the best idea she’s ever had… or the worst.
“So you want me to talk to you before bed – and we’re gonna keep things refined, polished, and innocent between two acquaintances.”
“Yes.”
“What's your final condition?” he asked warily.
She crossed her fingers, her toes, and frankly – anything that would cross on her as she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.
“We actually try to make the best of this between us,” she carefully began. “Three months is a long time to be miserable or a very short time if we’re happy together. At the end, we sit down and talk about how to… divorce.”
“Agreed.”
“Really?”
“Yup. Agreed. What time can you meet me at the courthouse?”
Her eyes shot to the clock on the wall as it suddenly slammed into her that she was marrying the man of her freakin’ dreams today. This was every girl’s fantasy, and she was about to live it to the fullest… for the next three months.
Nothing was official until it was on paper, too. She was already out of bed, dressing, and ripping a hairbrush through her tangled hair as she raced around the room looking for clothing.
My mama didn’t raise no fool…
“I can be there in twenty minutes – with traffic.”