Page 117 of Hockey Wife

“I met them through Cherish the Days.”

“Is that part of your parents’ foundation? I’m a big fan of the work they do.”

Georgia smiled, and instead of answering directly, said, “I’m sorry Tara couldn’t make it.”

“Yeah, her little one is sickly with a cold.” Harper regarded her with a full, pointed appraisal. “I’m glad you came tonight. I like to meet with new people in the org.”

“The org?”

“You’re married to one of my players. That makes you part of the org.”

“You really needn’t carve out time for me.” Worried that came off as ungenerous, she added quickly, “I’m sure you must be very busy.”

“I am, but I always have time to ensure the people who mean the most to my boys feel welcome.” She pressed her hand against Georgia’s arm. “Call Casey and let’s get tea on the schedule.”

Georgia could only nod. The people who mean the most to my boys. Apparently, she was included in that sacred group.

Banks grabbed his gym bag and walked out of the dressing room.

The Rebels had finally put it away in overtime and now they were on to Round 2. Everyone was heading to the Empty Net to celebrate, but a few of the guys had been asked to say hi to some fans post-game. He shot off a message to Georgia, telling her to come to the bar. It was time he showed his wife off properly.

She had spent the game in the owners’ box, so he was surprised to see her in the visitors’ reception room, a coffee cup in her hand (peppermint tea, he guessed), chatting away to a dark-haired woman in jeans and a Rebels jersey and an older man in a wheelchair.

Spotting him, she waved him over. “Congratulations, Big Guy!”

He’d just won a Game 7, and his gorgeous wife was on hand to greet him. Did it get better than this?

It could.

He kissed her because he wanted to, and no one was on hand to tell him this wasn’t real.

“Thanks, Peaches,” he murmured against her mouth after he’d kissed the stuffing out of her. Her pupils were dilated, and she looked fairly stunned.

She blinked and shook herself. “Dylan, this is Debbie.”

He nodded at the woman standing beside Georgia, who was wide-eyed after his performance—and not the one on the ice.

“It’s so amazing to meet you. We didn’t want to take advantage, but when Georgia invited us, we jumped at the chance.”

“Of course I’m going to use my connections for good.” Georgia squeezed Banks’s hand. “Dylan, I want you to meet someone. This is Jim Dixon, Debbie’s dad. He’s a big fan of the Rebels, and of you.”

Banks met the sharp gaze of the wheelchair-bound man, clearly sick with something that would soon kill him.

“Mr. Dixon, you’ve come on a good night.”

“Certainly have. You played a barnburner out there, son.”

Georgia inched closer to him. “Banks, Jim was in the Army and did three tours of Iraq.”

“We’re grateful for your service, sir.”

Jim nodded, then started coughing. “No need to ‘sir’ me. I hear your dad served as well.”

“He did. Second Battalion, First Infantry out of Fort Washington.”

Jim nodded thoughtfully. “They had a bad go of it. Your dad see you play?”

“Not professionally. But he saw me during my junior years. He was a pretty good player himself.”

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