Page 23 of Offside Bride

I waggle my eyebrows at Maggie. “Ready for the best kiss of your life, Mrs. O’Malley?”

Maggie raises a snarky eyebrow. “No, thank you,” she tuts and turns to make a hasty exit.

“Oh no, you don’t.” I grab her wrist, feeling a jolt of electricity as my fingers close around it. With a swift tug, I pull her back. She crashes against my chest with a surprised “oof,” and before she can protest, I dip her low and capture her lips with mine.

Holy hockey sticks.

It’s like kissing a livewire. Her lips are soft, warm, and taste faintly of cherry lip balm. Maggie wiggles stiffly, but I feel her initial resistance melt away as her mouth opens for me. She sighs into the kiss, fingers curling into the lapels of my jacket.

I take her mouth hungrily, savoring every little gasp that escapes her. My hand slides to the small of her back, pulling her closer. The world fades away, and it’s just us, locked in this moment.

Soon her hands find their way under my shirt, pressing her fingers into my ribs. I respond in turn by cupping her firmly against me, raking my fingers up the nape of her neck, tugging at her hair.

She’s breathless, matching my kiss stroke for stroke, and a little moan escapes her throat. It drives me wild, and I wonder how I ever had the discretion to put a brake on things that day I walked out on her. I was a fool. I’ll never let her go again. She’s mine now.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear someone whistle and say, “Wow, okay then.” Probably Hendrix.

Reality slams into us like a cross-check.

Maggie freezes, blinks at me, dazed for a moment. Then her eyes narrow. Without a word, she turns on her heel and storms off into the nearest room, slamming a door behind her.

“Let her go,” Owen says, grabbing my arm as I move to follow.

Hannah pipes up, “That’s the laundry room.”

Of all the dramatic exits!

Ignoring Emily’s plea to give her a minute, I stride over to the door and give it a good, hard knock.

“Wife!” I shout through the door. “We still need to kiss for the honeymoon photos.”

“I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life.”

— RITA RUDNER

7

MAGGIE

Here I am in my cute-but-impractical outfit, wondering why on earth I agreed to this. I feel like a dork among the sea of hockey fans surrounding us. Emily stands beside me, scrolling her phone, as we wait in the hot sun outside the Blizzard Dome for the players to arrive.

“Remind me again why we’re standing here like groupies?” I grumble. “I could be home, elbow-deep in plaster.”

Emily chuckles. “It’s tradition. All the wives and girlfriends wait outside to show support. But, between you and me,” Emily leans in conspiratorially, “I think it’s really to show the fans which players are taken.”

I roll my eyes. “Great. We’re human ‘Do Not Touch’ signs.”

Emily pats my arm sympathetically. “Don’t worry, it’s just for this first game.”

I spot a couple of familiar faces across the line— bridesmaids from Emily’s wedding. We exchange waves, and I silently thank the hockey angels I’m not stuck next to them. I can only handle so much wife talk.

Although I’m less than thrilled to be here, I understand it’s all part of the role I signed up to play. Yesterday some jealous ex-fling took to social media and tried to convince her twentyfollowers that my marriage to Sawyer is fake. It didn’t get much traction, but it was enough to freak Sawyer’s agent the heck out, which in turn freaked Sawyer the heck out. So, here I am. At least I get to spend time with Emily for a while.

“So,” Emily says as she nudges me, “how’s life with Sawyer? All moved in?”

I shrug. “If by ‘moved in’ you mean I dumped my sad collection of possessions into his big house, then sure. I’m practically domesticated.”

I was pleasantly surprised to find that Sawyer’s house is, well, just a house. Not a mansion like Owen and Emily’s, and not a bachelor penthouse, like I’d imagined. It’s a nice, two-story, brick house in Rosedale, with white trim and a clean, manicured lawn. There are neatly trimmed topiaries lining the walkway, and a sturdy Canadian Maple tree stands majestically by the sidewalk, providing shade in the afternoon.

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