Page 52 of Hockey Wife

“The playoffs start soon. Assuming we qualify, you can come to a game. If you want.”

“Fantastic! Maybe I’ll ask Tara if I can sit with her.”

“She’s married to the GM, so she usually sits in the owner’s box.” That would be more Georgia’s speed. Barely watching the game, surrounded by luxury.

She blinked. “Okay. And that way you can keep your tickets for your family.”

Like he wouldn’t find one for his wife?

They carried on in silence until he declared the taco filling ready. She whipped up the margaritas in a martini shaker. After heating tortillas, he filled a couple with lettuce, taco meat, tomatoes, onions, cheese, and sour cream. “Hot sauce here, if you need it.”

“Definitely. I’m betting those tacos are white-guy mild.”

“Maybe try it first.”

Ignoring his advice, she added hot sauce to the filling and lifted the entire taco to her mouth. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

She chewed. Turned red. Reached for her margarita and downed it in one go.

“Easy there.”

“This … is … hot!”

“I told you to try it first before adding more sauce.”

“I thought you were exaggerating! I have a high tolerance, but this is outrageous.”

“Just a couple of chopped chilis. Nothing I can’t handle.” He added more hot sauce to prove it, then took a bite. The flavors danced on his tongue, gave a burn, numbed him up, then tripped merrily on their way. “Perfect.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No. That would be childish.”

Grabbing the hot sauce, she held it aloft and dabbed a few drops on her taco.

“Not sure that’s a good idea,” he murmured.

“That’s what the second margarita is for.” While she took a bite, he poured the drink for her and passed it over. Panting, she downed a huge gulp and grinned like she’d won a prize. “Good. Tacos.”

This was the girl he met in Vegas. The fearless woman who saw nothing as an obstacle, not even a grouchy asshole like him.

“Ease up there, princess.”

“You think that’s funny, don’t ya?”

“Just calling it how I see it.”

“Privileged, pampered, spoiled.”

He blew out a sigh. “You have a trust fund, Georgia. You throw parties for a living. And you asked me not to divorce you so you could keep the cash flowing.”

She snatched a quick breath and waved a hand casually. “So you have my number, Big Guy.”

He’d hurt her feelings. Yet he couldn’t come up with a way to apologize that didn’t sound like he was accepting of her life strategy.

They continued eating with Georgia sipping on her margarita. Once she’d finished her second taco, she hopped up with the plate.

“That was great. Thanks for cooking.” She took the plate to the sink and started to run the water.

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