Page 67 of Hockey Wife

“Shoes, I’m guessing. Mom likes to have her boot collection wherever she goes.” He took the case along with two others. “You grab that smaller one—that’s Gran’s.”

He followed her upstairs, careful to keep his eyes north of her shoulder blades. But that didn’t help because she’d put her hair up into a messy bun, and small tendrils of hair were stuck to her neck.

Thoughts invaded, wicked ones about placing his nose along the curve of her neck. His lips. Maybe even his tongue. He bet she tasted sweet with a touch of salt because that would be Georgia. A mass of contradictions.

“You okay?”

He jerked to attention to find her looking at him curiously with those blue lights. Could she not see how much her wispy, rebellious hair was affecting him?

“Sorry about before,” he muttered with a glance downstairs.

“About what?”

“My gran demanding photographic evidence to share with the rest of them. Making us?—”

“Get physical?” The corner of her mouth hooked up. “But you dropped me like I burned! We’ll have to figure out how to handle those kinds of interactions if we’re to keep the fiction alive.” She brought his gran’s case into the room where she’d been sleeping. “Now I think maybe your gran should go in here after I change the sheets. The lake views are especially lovely, and it gets a lot of sun in the morning.”

He knew that. It was why he’d chosen this room for Georgia.

“I’ll move my undies into yours.” She took a quick look over her shoulder. “Maybe now before Connie gets nosy. I’ll leave my clothes as if this is my closet space.”

Quickly she grabbed stuff from drawers and threw it into an empty case while he stood at the door, gawping and trying to parse her words about how he’d dropped her like she burned. Anxious to distract himself, he focused on her quick movements and the things she was packing away. Frilly bits. Lacy and silky scraps of material that would barely cover her curves and would not hold up under scrutiny or his ravenous grasp.

Shuttering the suitcase, she looked up and frowned as if to ask, why are you here again, perv?

I can’t stay away from you.

She pulled the suitcase by him and headed to his room where she popped it on the bed and unzipped again.

“Now for your mom, maybe put her in the blue room? It’s got that extra closet space, and she could lay out her boots in those cute little cubbies.”

Good, back to the task at hand. After lugging and stashing the remaining cases, he sought out Georgia, who was unpacking in his room.

Their room.

He closed the door behind him. “Could I have a word?”

She looked up, her eyes wide and curious.

“About what happened downstairs, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“I do?”

He inhaled a breath. “I separated from you quickly because I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage.”

“Advantage? How would I think a fake hug was taking advantage?”

Did he have to spell it out? “Because it didn’t feel fake. It felt … good. And that’s not what you signed on for.”

She took a couple of steps toward him, then placed a hand on his chest. “What did I sign on for? Is it about Connie?”

“Yes.” Liar, liar, cup on fire. The hand on his chest started to make tight, comforting circles.

“Is she ill?”

“No, nothing more than typical old age. But she worries she could go at any minute, and she won’t have seen me with a wife and a family of my own.”

“I see.” She reached up to his jaw and cupped it. “Making your grandmother happy is a great reason to do this. I’m guessing she’s harbored the dream for you for a while.”

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