Page 56 of Perfect Boy

Watson

Ryann sits on a bench by the exit, legs crossed, looking at her phone. Her eyebrows pull together as she scrolls mindlessly. Just the sight of her in my jersey gives me a dirty image in my head—me behind her, plowing inside of her while she wears nothing but my jersey. And that alone is making me desperate to steal her away to a restroom or closet right now.

“Hey,” I say, stopping just before her.

The stupid-ass grin returns even though I try to play it cool when I’m around her. She turns me into one goofy motherfucker.

Quickly standing, she slides her phone into her back pocket. “Hi to you.” She beams. “Great game. Congrats on another win.”

“Thanks.” I nod toward her body. “Nice jersey. I’ll admit, I’m a little jealous of it though.”

She looks down, confused. “Why?”

“Because it gets to hang off your body like that.”

I wink, and she looks up, throwing her head back.

“Dear Lord, that was cheesy.” She rolls her eyes. “Very. Very. Cheesy.”

“Maybe that’s how I am as a husband. An extra-cheesy one.” I shrug. “Chicks dig it. I’ve seen enough Hallmark shit to know that much.”

“You watch Hallmark?” She laughs. “Just when I think I’m getting to know you, you throw me a curveball like that.”

“Mom likes Hallmark. My brothers were always too cool to watch with her once my sister moved out. Turns out, they aren’t all that bad. Predictable, but not bad.” Holding my hand out, I wonder if she’ll even take it or if she regrets hooking up the other night. “Come on, wifey. Let’s go celebrate the win.”

She surprises me and grabs it instantly. I pull her toward me, kissing her forehead.

We might have won on the ice tonight, and that felt damn good. But this, right now…makes it feel even better.

I’m winning my wife over. And soon, she’ll get the idea of divorcing me right out of her head. For good.

Ryann

We dance, and it doesn’t even seem weird. I no longer feel like he’s a stranger. In fact, I’m completely relaxed in the arms of this man.

I always think that people are hiding their true selves behind a pretty face and a sweet smile. But with Watson, I’ve learned that what you see is what you get. He’s just a good-hearted person. And that’s hard to come by.

Deep down, I don’t know if I’ll ever gain citizenship with my criminal history. Yeah, I was a kid when I stole those things, and I was barely a teenager when I defended my mother from that creep. But it’s something that will never go away. It will always be on my record. And because of that, I’m scared this is all for nothing.

What if Watson ruined his first time getting married to save me when it won’t make a difference anyway? Guilt strikes me deep in my gut. He’s a wonderful man. And I’m using him.

And what if I fall for him, the way I know I’m going to, and then I get shipped back to Canada? Clearly, he’s stuck here. He has a spot secured in the NHL.

In an attempt to quiet my own thoughts, I rest my head against his chest, and it feels so natural. And real. Like we didn’t commit a major crime. Like I’m not dragging him into my mess to save my own ass.

“Cat got your tongue, Tiny Dancer?” he murmurs against my ear. “You’re awfully quiet tonight.”

“Somebody’s Problem” by Morgan Wallen plays softly at Club 83. To my left, I see Sutton and Hunter dancing. She stares up at him, a certain twinkle in her eye as he talks. And he grins down, holding her like his whole life depends on keeping her safe.

A love so big that it could withstand any storm.

My best friend is so happy. And that makes me incredibly glad. If anyone deserves it, it’s her.

“I’m good,” I say, looking up at him. “Just tired. It’s not easy, you know, being the wife of the infamous Watson Gentry.”

It takes him a second, but eventually, he smiles, nodding his head. “Yeah, I suppose it isn’t.”

“Hey, have you heard anything from Cade?”

---