Page 39 of Hockey Wife

“A goat?”

“Greatest of All Time. The GOAT. He’s a hockey player.”

“Oh, good for him. Let me grab a pen.”

“Don’t write it down. If you forget, you can just look up ‘Wayne Gretzky points total’.”

“Hmm. So if I’ve inputted the wrong digits, I shouldn’t panic while the alarm counts down my failure but should instead take the time to do a Google search for Gray Wetzky’s hockey stats. Gotcha.”

He growled.

She laughed, and zing, there it was. The ice had started working its magic, but with the debut of that sexy laugh, he’d need another cold pack for his dick.

“Repeat the number back to me.”

“I’ll look it up later. How’s your trip? How’s Dex?”

Why the fuck was she asking about him? “We have a game tomorrow night and O’Malley’s acting like we’ve already won the Cup.”

“I heard from Tara that he got off with a plea deal and made up with Ashley. He must be so happy.”

Yeah, insufferably so. He’d also latched onto Banks at a time when Banks did not need the trouble. His shoulder still hurt, and it was easier to hide his pain when he didn’t have to talk to anyone or do more than grunt during a conversation. It was bad enough he was rooming with chatty Tate Kazminksi, one of the Rebels D-men. A total gossip hound, he had a million questions about Georgia, all of which were met with Banks’s brand of chat-withering silence.

Now he was alone, having cried off going out with the guys because he needed to rest up and focus ahead of the game tomorrow. He also had some financial stuff to do, analyzing the last quarter returns for his brokerage accounts. Better he do it instead of handing it off to some finance bro who would get an easy commission for following Banks’s very specific instructions.

“As long as O’Malley’s good mood transfers to the ice, then he can be as happy as he wants.”

“Aw, what a friend you are!”

Sarcasm noted. “The guy fucked up, then got a woman to make it all better by saying kind things about him to a judge.”

“Someone sounds jealous.”

“Nope. Just continually amazed at how some guys work the system.”

“By ‘work the system,’ do you mean, ‘fall in love’?” She chuckled. “Quit being so grumpy and let him have his moment.”

So he was a cantankerous old coot. O’Malley’s trajectory was on the up: playing well, finding love, getting away with murder. Banks might be a touch envious at how the kid’s life was shaping up when his own was in the toilet.

“He keeps talking to me. Asking for advice about how to manage his energy levels in the business end of the season.”

Sleep, kale smoothies, and more sleep.

Georgia cooed. “He looks up to you! You have all this experience, so of course he’s going to come to you. You’ve been at this game forever.”

Yep. Banks the Dinosaur, heading for extinction.

He was tempted to ask her what she was up to, maybe what she was wearing. This marriage gig should have some perks. But the other night, she’d walked out of the kitchen when he told her that they’d connected in Vegas. That their marriage had to have some foundation. She had assured him it was a mistake and drawn her line in the sand.

Guess that answered that. They would be all business from here on out.

“So what’s the code?”

She made an exasperated sound. “Good night, Banks.”

Good night, Peaches.

Banks was in line at the hotel breakfast buffet when the Rebels captain, Vadim Petrov, cut in.

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