Page 7 of The Pucking Fake Marriage

“We should get out of here.”

I don’t mean to say that, but I don’t regret it, either. Ineeded us to leave the club sooner or later anyway. But my plan is now secondary.

All I want is to be alone with him.

“We should,” Ken growls. “So I can fuck you.”

A chill of expectancy runs down my spine. I’ve never known Ken to be this direct. As he stops guiding my hips and reaches upward to cup my breast, I realize once more that this Ken is completely different. He’s cast aside all gentleness he used to have for me. He is a man in need.

And he just found a willing partner.

He sets me on my feet. I obey him, feeling dizzy. I’m nowhere near drunk, but it’s only just settling in that I’m going to have him tonight. It wasn’t part of the plan, but I’ll embrace it anyway.

Because in a few hours, I’m going to be Mrs. Ken Edwards.

TWO

UNFINISHED BUSINESS (KEN)

Three months later…

My muscles are on fire as I march into the changing rooms. Needles of pain shoot up my legs with every step, and my back is still aching after I slammed it on the ice one too many times.

“The only endurable thing about this practice was that it was only that, apractice.”Coach Tanner’s biting voice carries into the room, even if he’s in the corridor outside. “Keep taking hits like that, Edwards, and you’ll be warming the bench all season.”

Great.

Many of my teammates push past me roughly on the way to the showers. Can’t say I blame them. Tanner kept them for an extra hour on the biting ice to “Fix Edwards’s abysmal playing before I’m forced to blow my own brains out.”

I’d be damn angry if anyone ruined the first practice since our historic win of last season, too.

“Now are you going to tell me what’s up, or am I going to keep guessing till I hit on something?”

I turn around, even though I absolutely don’t need to. The only person who would care enough to ask me that question after I messed up so badly is Blake. Sure enough, he’s standing behind me, stripping off his shoulder pads with a look of concern on his face.

I grin, amused in spite of myself. “So, you married a pop singer and learned how tocare? Cringe.”

Blake ignores my taunt. Another new development. Two years ago, Blake would have said something scathing and walked away. Now he merely shrugs. “Come on. If you’re going through some shit, I’d like to know.”

“I’m not.” I’m sounding as firm as I can, but I know Blake isn’t buying it. “Really, what could I be going through?”

He looks as though I've raised an interesting point. I can see why. The last time Blake was off his game on the ice, it had to do with girl trouble. He's quite aware of the emptiness in my romantic life.

“I don’t know, man,” he says. “Something to do with your family, maybe?”

My amusement is tinged with a deeper sense of frustration. Feels like Blake is going to keep pushing till he discovers something.

"I've got a brother I don't speak to and parents who I rarely visit up in Chestnut Hill," I say, pulling off my hockey jersey. "There's very little to talk about, not to mention worry about."

I’ve stripped myself of half my hockey gear before I notice the shock on Blake’s face. “You’ve got a brother?”

The frustration piles on. Blake has managed to find something to prod me about. “Yep.” I push past him to the showers, ignoring the stony looks of the rest of the team. I expect Blake to take my curt answer in good faith, maybeunderstand that I don’t want to talk about it. Instead, he follows me through the throng, waiting as I reach for one of the towels on the hooks outside the stalls.

“Blake, piss off. Seriously.”

He has an unusually obstinate look on his face. “Make it easier by telling me why you sucked at practice today. Or at least more about your brother. Is he younger, older?”

I let out a ragged sigh. I know I’m going to regret saying this, but he’s not going to back off. I goaded him almost as hard two seasons ago, and I didn’t think about backing down once. This is just karma.

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