Page 41 of Fake Out Hearts

“Awesome. I need to start getting ready for warmup practice before the game, but I’ll send you the details on how to get in later. Are you good if I order an Uber to take you to the arena? Your new car won’t be delivered until tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She looks a little flustered at the reminder that I bought her a car, and she flashes me a shy smile as she says, “That sounds great. It’ll give me a chance to learn my way around the city a bit before I start before I start driving myself around.”

“Okay, great. Then I’ll see you at the arena later tonight?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

I’m just about to stuff my phone into my locker room cubby later that day when I get a text from Becca saying she’s at the arena.

ME: Awesome, glad you made it. You can come to the family lounge to say hi, if you want.

BECCA: Sure. Where is it again?

I give her the directions, then throw my things into my locker and hurry over to the lounge. We still have a bit of time before the game starts, and I’m glad she got here early. I want to see her before I get out on the ice.

I find Becca hovering near the entrance to the family and friends lounge, looking gorgeous as always. She doesn’t see me at first, and I can’t help stopping in my tracks and grinning at the sight of her. We’re technically married now, but it’s still somewhat surreal to see her standing there waiting for me.

But before I can walk over to greet my wife, Maxim Federov strides up to her. He grins, chatting her up like he’s at some sort of speed dating event. Becca gives him a polite smile, nodding along with whatever he’s saying.

I frown.

She’s such a sweet, open-hearted person that she may not even be aware he’s hitting on her—but I sure as fuck am. I’ve seen him flash that same smile at plenty of puck bunnies in bars over the years.

My hands curl into fists, my jaw going tight. It’s irrational to be pissed off, seeing as how most of my teammates still don’t know Becca and I are an item, much less married. But rational thought can’t override the sudden feeling of possessiveness that rises up in me.

I stride over to where the two of them are standing, brushing past Maxim and wrapping an arm around Becca’s waist, pulling her tight against me. She shoots me a startled look, but her body melts against mine as if it’s an instinctual reaction.

“I see you’ve met my wife,” I say coolly.

Maxim does a double-take, his blond eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

“Wife?” He glances between me and Becca. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Uh, congrats?”

“Thanks. Good to see you, princess.” I use two fingers to tilt Becca’s chin up, then lean down to press a soft kiss to her lips.

Her breath catches a little, her arm wrapping around my back like she’s trying to steady herself. The kiss goes on for a heartbeat longer than I meant it to, but I can’t seem to pull away. When we finally break apart, her tongue darts out to trace her lower lip like she’s tasting me there.

“Thank you for coming to see me play,” I tell her, keeping my gaze on her even though I’m well aware of Maxim watching us both curiously.

“Of course,” she whispers, her voice a little breathy. “Like I said, I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Uh, it was nice to meet you, Mrs. Camden,” Maxim says, clearing his throat as he backs away. He shoots me an apologetic, slightly confused look, then turns and strides off toward the locker room.

“What was that all about?” Becca asks when we’re alone. My arm is still wrapped around her, and as if she realizes that we no longer have an audience to perform for, she slowly steps away from me. I drop my arm, already missing the warmth of her body against mine.

“Most of the rest of the team doesn’t know about us yet,” I tell her. “Maxim included. Or at least, he didn’t know until now.”

“So you were, what? Claiming me?”

She laughs softly, but the grin slips from her face as I nod, my expression serious.

“Oh.” She swallows. “You don’t have to do that. It’s just fake. Just for show.”

I close the distance between us, unable to help myself. My fingers come up to toy with a lock of her soft dark hair as I drop my head to meet her gaze. “It may be fake, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting any of my teammates hit on you while we’re married. If this were real, I would’ve been out of my mind with jealousy, seeing you smile at another man. Because I’d want every single one of your smiles, princess. Every one of your laughs. All of them.”

Her breath hitches, and I realize in a rush that I probably spoke too honestly. But then a small smile tugs at her lips, and she whispers, “As long as we’re married, you can have them.”

Something warm explodes in my chest at that. I glance around, half hoping that someone else will have entered the lounge to give me an excuse to kiss Becca again as part of our ‘married couple’ act. But unfortunately, the place is empty.

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