Page 17 of Pucks and Coffee

He licks his lips. “You need something from me. And this way, we’re both getting what we want.”

“I wanted to own a little coffee spot, not a whole-ass shop.”

Coleson shakes his head. “No, you want something that’s yours. This can be yours if you help me.”

I want him to be mine.

Oh no, ma’am. Calm your tits, I chastise my inner slut.

I press my lips together as his words hit me like the truck that hit my sister. I know I’m an asshole for thinking that since my sister was seriously hurt, but really? I take a deep breath as my brain sends me images of me owning this place. It would be all mine, and he’d train me. Louisa could put books in here, and we could work together to hold events. Elliot could market it for us. I could be successful; I could have something that is mine, like Coleson said. Like I’ve yearned for. I grew up with nothing being mine. I was an object for men, to be used and owned. I escaped to give myself the life I wanted. To make something of myself.

This is a huge opportunity.

But a year.

To someone who doesn’t want a marriage?

Shit.

What would my sisters say? What would Peepaw say? He may have been fine with Ciaran and Louisa getting together, but this is way different. Ciaran is a good dude, and he already made the NHL. Or almost has. Peepaw has to know that Coleson’s reputation is shit and about him fooling around with a teammate’s wife. I doubt he’d want me tying myself to him. Because being married makes us one. What he does affects me, and vice versa.

Am I truly considering this?

“When would you need an answer?”

He swallows. “As soon as possible.”

“And what would the conditions be? Will we really be married, or just saying so? Will we only make appearances?”

He shakes his head. “Since the town is so small, we’d go downtown and get married for real. You can move in here or I can find us another apartment, but we’ll need to live together. I’ll pay for everything for the next year, and you will want for nothing. I’ll also pay for the divorce, and it’ll be straightforward. You’ll have the building, so the upstairs would be yours. I’ll hopefully move to wherever I’m playing.”

My heart is in my throat. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“I have.” His eyes are dark, hopeful, and while I want to agree immediately, I know I need to think this through.

I press my fingers into my temples. “This is a lot.”

“It is, and I know I’m asking for more than I should. But if you could help me with this, I promise I’ll do anything you want.”

I’m sure he didn’t mean to make that sound so sexual, but it sure did. I clear my throat, trying to focus on what he is asking instead of my raging hormones. “I don’t know, Coleson.”

“I understand,” he says softly, and I can see the tension in his jaw. “How about you think about it for the next couple days, and you let me take you hiking this weekend. We can talk about it more, and I can answer any questions you have.”

I’d rather not hike, but I do like the idea of thinking about it a bit. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Awkward silence stretches between us. Between my almost dying and his request for marriage, it’s easy to say this date hasn’t been what I thought it would be. When he runs his hand over his mouth, I look up, and he gives me a wry smile. “I killed the mood, huh?”

I smile softly. “I think I did that first by choking on the cake.”

He grins. “I thought that was the highlight.”

The heat in his eyes reminds me that he saw my boobs, and a deep flush creeps up my neck. “I can’t believe my boobs popped out.”

He laughs. “I was determined not to let you die.”

“Yeah, because you need a wife.”

“Exactly,” he agrees with a wink, and I laugh with him. It’s easy and carefree. I like the laughter. I like how it makes me feel. “Can I walk you home?”

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