Page 66 of Hockey Wife

“Where else would I be? You think I’m missing this series?”

“I know you wouldn’t miss it, but this visit is sooner than I expected.”

“It’s what she wanted,” his mom said. Connie was her mother-in-law, but from the moment she married his dad, they were as good as mom and daughter. Mom came from money and her own parents disowned her when she hitched her wagon to an Army private. The two women were alike in temperament, neither of them willing to back down.

He set his grandmother back to look at her. She’d lost weight, though his mom was always trying to make her eat more. He’d do what he could while she was here. Other than that, she looked spry for a woman of eighty-three.

“How are you?”

“Just fine. Don’t you be worrying about me. You have games to win.”

“I can do both.”

You wouldn’t believe how much my focus is fragmented—did you hear I have a hot young wife who’s completely upended my life?—yet I’m still here, winning games and taking names.

“Well, you shouldn’t have to worry. We’re here to spend time with Georgia and induct her into the family.”

He met Georgia’s gaze over his grandmother’s head. She should be afraid—he wouldn’t have blamed her if she was—but that wasn’t fear he was seeing. More like glee.

“You ready to be inducted?” he asked her.

“Are there jackets?”

Mom’s eyes lit up, and he pointed at her. “No.” A couple of his teammates had granny fan clubs who went nuts at the games, complete with specially designed merch. “No jackets. Just be normal. If that’s possible.”

His mom and Georgia shared a playful look that should have put the fear of God into him, but instead gave him a little thrill. They liked each other.

“While we figure out which photo of Banks to use on the jackets,” Georgia said, “I can top everyone up.”

His mom jumped to her feet. “I’ll do it. Dylan, could you get your gran’s room ready?” In other words, a nap was in her future.

“Will do.” He kissed Gran on the forehead. “Relax while I figure out the guest room situation.” When he stood, Georgia did as well, and the sight of them side by side sent his grandmother into a frenzy.

“Hold that pose! I need a pic to send to the girls. Trish, do the honors.”

A slender arm snaked around his waist and she—meaning his soft, supple, sexy wife—leaned in, laying her head on his pec.

“Gotta give your public what they want, Big Guy.”

On hearing that nickname, his mother’s eyes practically popped out of her head.

“Take the damn photo.”

She did, though she took an age with it, to the point that Banks’s body was not his own. He was on the verge of losing control and throwing his woman caveman-style down on the hearth rug and nailing her until she screamed his name.

He’d already mauled her a couple of nights ago, and as for what happened in Vegas … He assumed that was part of the reason for running out of the hotel room instead of sticking around to discuss what had happened. She’d awoken trap-wrapped in his aging bulk and had quickly figured out her escape route.

“Absolutely perfect!” Mom was grinning, and he wondered what she really thought of all this. She knew it was just for his gran, so why was she acting so weird?

He pulled away, a little too fast. Georgia wasn’t quite ready, and she stumbled back into his arms.

“Sorry,” she murmured, sounding embarrassed. That was the last thing he wanted.

“Stay here.” He didn’t want her hauling luggage.

“No, I want to make sure everyone gets settled in right.” She moved ahead of him and grabbed the largest suitcase in the foyer. Then dropped it.

“Jesus, what’s in here? A dead body?”

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