Page 53 of Hockey Wife

“Georgia, you don’t have to do this.”

“Why? Because a spoiled princess like me couldn’t possibly know how? So tell me, what does this do?” She held up the dish soap. “Or this?” Next, a wave of the scrubbing brush.

“Georgia.”

“What? You were only telling the truth as you see it.”

“And this would be your turn to tell me the truth as you see it.”

“Ah, so you need me to justify why I live my life this way.” She shook her head, almost pitying. “I don’t owe you an explanation for a thing. We both have our reasons for why we’re staying married. At least I’m honest about mine. You say you’re doing it to save face; only you don’t seem like the kind of guy who cares what anyone thinks.”

He brought his plate to the sink. “You really care that much about my motives?”

“Nope.”

“Liar. You’re furious because I won’t spill my guts.”

She scoffed. “Well, it is like pulling teeth. You weren’t like this in Vegas. You were much chattier then.”

“Hardly.”

“You must have been because there’s no way I would have married … this!”

He moved in closer. “We both know why you married me.”

“Please spill.”

“Because no one had ever kissed you as good as I did. No one had ever held you as tightly as I did. And no one had ever made you feel like the only girl in my world.”

She gasped, the perfect audible cue to the heart beating in his chest.

Why the fuck did I say that?

Why the fuck did I even think that?

He was just goading her, trying to get her to admit that there was a reason she said yes. They’d connected that night. Something crazy and magical had happened, and for it to have meant nothing at all … that just didn’t fly with him.

17

The only girl in my world.

Rihanna was onto something. To have a man treat you that way was more than comforting … it was everything. And to have Banks—close-mouthed, hot-lipped, bear-grunts-are-my-love-language Banks—admit it was a shock that Georgia had no idea what to do with.

Stunned stupid, she turned away to the sink.

“You have a pretty high opinion of those arms and lips, Mister. Powerful enough to make me lose all inhibition and marry you, you say?”

“We weren’t drunk. From what I can see you can hold your liquor.”

He sounded closer, almost on top of her. If she turned, she’d end up right in his arms. Better not to risk it. They needed to keep the lines clear between them.

Let him call her princess, spoiled, whatever made sense to him.

Let her think one too many drinks had blurred his decision-making to the point a man as closed off as Banks would marry a bona fide mess like Georgia.

She didn’t want him to come up with valid reasons to be married. Such as he wanted her so much that he had to have her for his own. Or that he saw something in her that she couldn’t quite see in herself. Why else was she throwing out playground taunts of “you like me”? Because the joke carved out space between them, distance she needed so she wouldn’t make a mistake.

She’d made so many in her life.

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