Page 60 of Game Day

“You calling me a dumb jock?” he grunts, but there’s humor beneath it.

His fingers weave with mine, and the feel of his ring against my skin is a thrill I'll never get used to.

If preparing for the wedding was a whirlwind, the seventy-two hours since have been a dream.

There’s nowhere like Paris. The Seine. The Eiffel Tower. The galleries.

The Kodiaks went in together to send us on a mini-moon. Not only for the hotel and flights, but getting Clay three days off on the eve of the season. That request was unprecedented, but they managed to swing it for Clay.

Having Clay to myself has been incredible.

He's attentive, focused only on me and ensuring we have the best time together. Each morning when we've woken up, he’s nuzzled me awake, asking, "How did my wife sleep?"

Gah. If I thought there'd be no difference after the wedding, I was so wrong, and it has nothing to do with the fact that everything is half mine on paper.

By the time we finish at the gallery, my stomach is growling and the sun is setting. We eat at a tiny restaurant down a small alley with candlelight and delicious food.

"What's wrong?" I ask as I catch Clay staring into space when I return from the bathroom.

"I can't believe we have to go home tomorrow," he admits.

"Unless you want to run away together." Instead of sitting, I stop in front of him.

His hands go to my hips, pulling me into his lap. "You make it sound good, Pink."

My wrists cross behind his head and I smile. "You'd miss basketball. You’d catch one Kodiaks game in the background of some little sports bar and have a problem with the guys playing differently than you would."

"You know me too well." His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Speaking of going home tomorrow, the realtor sent through a new house. It’s close enough to Harlan and Mari you can get there for dinner, but not so close they’d overhear us cursing them.”

“You must mean you cursing your GM, because I’d never curse my sister,” I say, deadpan.

“Of course not,” he replies, equally serious. “It’s on two acres of property. Six bedrooms.”

“In case we have guests?”

“I was going to say kids. But guests work, too.” His grin makes my heart skip. “But the best part is this solarium with floor to ceiling windows and mountain views. You could fill it up with art.”

I feel my heart speed up. “It sounds amazing.”

“Good. I told him we’d like to see it together.”

I kiss him, long and slow. “You’re the best.”

“Thought I was third best,” he grumbles.

“Nope. I was wrong.” I grin as I pull back enough to watch stylish people wander by on the street. "It’s our final night here. We should spend it in a memorable way."

He looks down at his finger. "I can’t wear a ring during the games. I want to get this tattooed on me."

My lips press together. "I have an idea."

After we finish eating, we stroll hand in hand back toward our hotel and stop in front of a tattoo parlor.

Clay gets his wedding ring tattooed on his finger. It's black ink, tiny dots made to look like shading.

"There.I feel better knowing you won't lose a finger on my account. Or miss a three," I add with a smile. I take a moment to admire the artist’s work.

"Now you'll be with me on and off the court."

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