Page 42 of Hockey Wife

“Good one, Dexter.” Kershaw shook his head in disapproval.

But the kid was right. Banks didn’t know her. They’d done this whole thing ass backwards. If he’d asked Georgia out on a date, she sure as hell would not have accepted. He was far too old for her, not to mention cynical, broody, and set in his ways.

The media and his teammates might be enamored of this strange pairing for now, but they wouldn’t be surprised when it came to its natural and inevitable conclusion.

And neither would Banks.

14

Banks opened the front door and stood stock-still.

No beep from the alarm.

He dropped his gym bag in the foyer and listened.

The house felt different. Alive. Something brushed by his leg and gave a plaintive mewl. As Banks’s instincts were completely off lately, he did the wrong thing.

Picked it up.

Amber-green eyes blinked back at him. “Hey, where’s your momma?”

He shouldn’t be touching him, but the ball of fur looked positively terrified when he tried returning him to the floor. Banks wasn’t sneezing yet, and hopefully, he could keep the creature isolated so it wouldn’t be an issue. Telling her he was allergic wouldn’t go over well. People loved their animals and he needed to keep her happy.

Holding Cheddar at arm’s length, he walked into the living room.

Georgia lay sprawled on the sofa, front down. Her laptop was open, frozen on an image of a smiling girl. Like Georgia, but not her.

One of the cashmere blankets that were usually draped over the armrest covered her left side. On her upper half, she wore a green flannel shirt, which looked familiar. But none of that was responsible for his spiking pulse and the tug of desire in his groin.

That honor went to the rounded ass cheek on display, bisected by lacey white fabric, the perfect welcome home, Banks. He had no problem imagining his rough hand touching that soft skin, his fingers delving into the cleft where he’d find her tight, hot, and wet.

She moved in her sleep, and startled to be caught perving, he dropped the cat. Its unappreciative screech echoed to the ceiling. Georgia jerked awake.

“What?” She turned over, twisting her body up in the throw, hiding all that silky skin. “Banks?”

“The cat made a noise.”

She blinked and rubbed her eyes. “Where is he?”

“Ran off to the kitchen. Why aren’t you in bed?”

“What time is it?”

“Five in the morning. I just got in.”

She stretched, which pushed her hard nipples against the T-shirt she was wearing beneath the open flannel. It said “Lurie Children’s Hospital” inside a big pink heart and looked lived-in and soft against her perky, braless tits.

“You won your games.”

“Won one, lost one.” Dallas went well, LA not so much, and he’d barely slept a wink on the redeye back.

Her nose twitched. “I didn’t want to mention the loss. But the sports people said you guys will likely make the playoffs anyway, so that’s good!”

“Yeah, it is. Why didn’t you put on the alarm?”

She looked toward the foyer. “I was worried I’d set it off.”

“It’s not that complicated.”

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