Page 113 of Hockey Wife

“Can’t say I was. But I’m learning. Still not sure about the offside rule, but I’ve figured out most of the penalties. And I think the Cougars’ Nilsson should have been penalized for holding in that third period.”

A couple of the reporters nodded, likely placating the dumb blonde with the sports opinions. She snuck another look at Banks, worried she’d gone too far, and found him gazing at her indulgently.

“You heard it from my wife. The ref shit the bed on that one.” He squeezed her tighter. “Now, I think we have some celebrating to do.”

Taking her by the hand, he escorted her out into the corridor, through a back entrance that led to an underground car park.

“I messed up, didn’t I? Back there with the press?” This man loved his life on the down low. Her presence in it had brought unwanted attention, and she hated to make him uncomfortable.

“Nope. You were perfect.”

“Banks, I sounded like an idiot.”

He opened the passenger door and helped her up into the seat. She didn’t need it, but she loved when he was a gentleman.

And when he wasn’t.

He put on her seatbelt and brushed his lips over hers. “You were charming and made me look like a genius for marrying you.”

“Well, as long as you look good.” She curled a hand around his jaw and ran her thumb over his bottom lip. How strange that touching another person brought such comfort.

“I love watching you play.”

“I love knowing you’re watching me.”

They stared, neither of them willing to break away. She wanted to say more, but it already felt like too much. That whiskey-warm gaze heated her through.

“Are we heading to the Empty Net?”

“Not tonight.” His eyes glowed with the desire. Oh boy. It looked like they’d be celebrating the win in their own way.

35

“Something’s wrong with Banks.” Kershaw pulled the pot of dollar bills toward him and rolled his shoulders against the seat back in the plane’s lounge. “That’s the third hand in a row he’s lost.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Foreman patted his arm, all condescension. “It’s okay. Happens to the best of us.”

“Dick problems?” Kershaw asked.

“Losing at cards,” Banks said with a scowl.

“Wrong on both counts. Falling in love.” Foreman dealt the next hand but hovered over the last couple of cards. “You’ve been off your card game since news of your nuptials got out.”

O’Malley chuckled. “It’s true. No more poker face.”

Banks glared at the kid, but it had no impact. No one took him seriously anymore.

They were flying out to Boston for Game 6. With luck, they would clinch it on the road and would have a few days rest before Round 2.

Back to cards. With his ability to hide his pain, he should be better at this. He resolved to school his expression on the next hand. Two queens and a ten. He discarded a couple of cards and picked up two more. Nothing good, but he could bluff with the best of them.

Sixty seconds later, he was beaten with a pair of nines by O’Malley of all people. The guy couldn’t bluff his way out of a paper bag but now he suddenly had game?

“See, no good.” Kershaw smirked. “Long may Banks enjoy his lovely wife, so we all have a chance at winning at poker. How’s Mrs. B, by the way?”

“Fine. No lasting effects of the injury.”

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