Page 57 of Hockey Wife

A partner for a financial arrangement.

Hers.

The playoffs started in three days, and Banks planned to spend every one of them in the gym or on the ice—and nowhere near his hot, far-too-young-for-him wife.

Banks was talking to a woman.

It was early—okay, so it was after nine in the morning, which was early for Georgia—and a female voice carried through the house. Georgia crept down the stairs, skulking her way toward the kitchen.

He stood against the island, coffee cup in hand, wearing shorts (oh, Mama!) and a tee that shaped his pectorals to perfection. The T-shirt said: I walk on water. What’s your superpower?

Love!

“So what’s she like? The old ball and chain?”

The voice came from his iPad, propped up on a stand. Georgia held back, curious about how Banks would describe her to someone else.

“Chatty. Blonde. Cute. Not your type.”

“As if you know what my type is.”

“Yeah, I do. Big-muscled volleyball players.”

A dramatic sigh ensued. “I fucked one volleyball player ten years ago. Now I’m all about the nurturing woman, like my Amy.”

“Where is your better half? I’d much rather talk to her.”

“She’s taking Scarlet to school, then chilling at a coffee shop because we drive her mad.”

Someone else laughed. “That’s what Jason says about me. He’s soundproofing the man cave as we speak. But enough about that. We want to meet her!”

“You’re coming to Chicago soon enough.”

“And we can’t wait.” Yet another voice rang out.

These must be his sisters.

Georgia hadn’t seen much of Banks over the last few days. He’d spent most of his time at practice or the gym, and then played a game last night that qualified the team for the playoffs. She’d written “CONGRATS!” on the magnetized notepad on the fridge and sent him a text with an iconic GIF of Julia Roberts fist-pumping in Pretty Woman.

He’d responded with a very succinct, and to her mind unnecessarily terse, “TY.”

This shift in their dynamic was her fault. A few nights ago, they’d been making progress with tacos and talking, but then came The Kiss. A kiss so good that she had to ruin it with a reminder of reality. Georgia couldn’t enjoy the fantasy on offer, Banks’s amazing mouth and ass-clenching hand. No, she had to get into the weeds of the absurdity of their decision-making when it came to their marriage.

Banks hadn’t liked that, probably because who wanted to be reminded of a rash decision?

Oh, you thought there was a good reason for this sham of a marriage? Think again, Big Guy. Tequila and fountains and grief, oh my!

Feeling like a creeper, she took a step forward, enough to tease a creak from the hardwood floor and make her presence known. Banks looked up and she waited for his disappointment or annoyance, especially after how they’d parted previously.

Neither came. Or maybe he was getting better at hiding his feelings around her.

“Morning.”

“Hi!” She sounded squeaky. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, it’s perfect timing. Come meet the coven.”

The coven? A wave of high-pitched protests sounded as Georgia moved in closer. The screen was split with three curious faces shining out at her.

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