Page 25 of Hockey Wife

She was looking for something, a completely innocent task, but that didn’t stop his imagination from running wild about that peach-perfect ass inches away from him. His cock twitched. His fingers tingled.

He sat on his hands. “Georgia?—”

“Oh, here it is!” She placed a Barbie lunch box on top of the vanity and opened it. First, out came Nurse Barbie, who was placed near a tap, for moral support, he supposed. Next emerged an assortment of tiny Band-Aids, mostly of the Hello Kitty and Disney princess variety. His nieces had taught him well.

Georgia assessed the meager options and blinked a few times before meeting his gaze. “Any cuts? The smaller the better.”

He repressed a smile. “It’s more of an ache.” And not just his shoulder.

“Well, I have hydrocortisone, a sewing kit, and, hmm, one latex glove.”

“Could have ourselves a real party.”

She laughed, and God, that brought it flooding back. Georgia skipping down the Strip, her eyes bright as blue suns, reflecting the lights and energy of the city. “We need to see the fountains!”

His heart rate soared. This was why it happened.

This was why he was letting it happen all over again.

Someone tried the doorknob.

“Busy in here!” Georgia called out. “Try the other bathroom!” She rummaged again and took out a single pack of aspirin. “Would this help?”

Christ, she was so sweet with her pathetic medical supplies and her nervous energy that was somehow sexy at the same time.

“Probably.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, good!” She rinsed out a glass and handed him the pill, which he downed with a gulp.

“I feel better already.”

“Banks,” she murmured with a head shake, and just the soft way she said his name made him warm. “How did you get hurt?”

“Some asshole D-man from the Motors shoulder-checked me against the boards.”

“I understood about one in three words there.”

He shrugged, which sent a stab of pain through his shoulder. “Occupational hazard.”

“Will you get to rest before the next match?”

“It’s game. And yeah, a few days.” He stood, anxious to get out of this small space before he did or said something truly stupid. “So have your circumstances changed, Georgia?”

“About needing to stay married?”

He nodded, while his pulse rate picked up. Say no. Say no.

“No, they haven’t changed.”

Fuck, yeah.

Tonight, he walked into this party with every intention of having an adult conversation with Georgia, one that would lay out a clear path to marriage dissolution. Offer her the courtesy she hadn’t bothered giving to him.

Seeing her alone in the crowd, something tripped in his chest. She had looked so exposed, in need of someone to shelter her from this crazy world she’d built around herself.

For a few wild seconds, he thought: I could be that someone.

Everyone, from his family to his teammates to Georgia’s parents, assumed it was the age-old equation of Vegas plus alcohol equals a sham.

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