Page 50 of Hockey Wife

Someone is trying to change the subject. I’m making kroppkakor right now. I can bring it over for cards.

Kershaw

Sounds like shit, but we’ll give it a go.

“What’s cooking?”

Georgia appeared at the entrance to the kitchen in those sleep shorts from this morning, the neckline of her sweatshirt slipping to reveal a creamy-skinned shoulder. The one Banks had been dreaming about since she tried to remove his shirt and give it back.

He needed that shoulder covered, preferably with one of his jerseys. His flannel would do in a pinch.

“Tacos. Plenty for two.” Cheddar brushed against his leg and Banks dropped a tiny morsel of cooked ground turkey to the floor, where the little guy lapped it up. “Or three. Sorry, should’ve asked if it’s okay to feed him.”

“It’s fine.” Georgia moved closer, bringing her shoulder of temptation. “You make them with turkey?”

“This surprises you?”

“I’d have thought you need to eat tons of high calorie foods to keep up your energy levels.”

“I do. But I also have a specific diet to follow that’s mostly healthy.”

It looked like she was filing that away.

“I don’t want to take your taco meat away from you.” She made a funny face. “That sounded weird, didn’t it?”

He turned away to hide his smile. “Just a touch. And like I said, I’m making plenty for everyone. Even the stupid cat.”

“He’s not stupid.”

On cue the orange-striped dummy bumped into a cupboard door, then jumped back like the door had done it on purpose.

Georgia shook her head. “He’s just a little challenged. I thought you didn’t like him, yet here you are feeding him.”

“He keeps giving me the sad eyes and the meow-meow. Can’t ignore it.” He turned away, this time not to smile but to sneeze into his elbow.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks.” Washing his hands, he saw that Georgia had knelt to give the cat a quick pet. The move made her sweatshirt dip and reveal the valley between her breasts. She peered up, catching him in the act.

“You’re not getting a cold, are you?”

“Just allergies. Pollen.”

After their little dust-up this morning—which was down to him because he was a moody fucker—and that moment in his bedroom when she apologized for how she’d handled the annulment, he’d like to have said it eased any tension between them.

But that would be a bare-faced lie.

On the surface, they were easy as could be, so damn friendly that she could joke about Banks liking her. That’s what she thought—ha, ha, very funny—so he needed to go with that.

She had spent the day out of the house, though he’d watched out his window as she placed a couple of gift bags in the trunk of her clown car, then lifted her fancy dress as she climbed into the driver’s seat. He’d been living off that flash of gorgeous thigh all day.

“You want to help?”

“Me?”

“The cat’s useless so you’re on deck.”

She swallowed, a nervy little move that made her slender throat bulge. “Where should I start?”

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