Page 13 of Much Ado About Hockey

He hated clingy women. No attachments. No complications. No one lingering in his space when the fun was over. Becausehome was his refuge, a sacred place where he could let down his guard.

And for Jett, home was simple—worn flannel sheets, an ancient recliner that molded to his body just right, and the freedom to be a little messy without judgment. Flashy? Sure, he enjoyed it now and then. But comfort… comfort was what rooted him.

Which made this whole thing with Karen so confusing.

She was everything he wasn’t used to—proper, intentional, intelligent—and yet, there was something about her that settled beneath his skin in a way nothing else ever had. Even in this awkward, uncertain beginning, he wanted to know her. Really know her.

Sliding back into his seat, he met her gaze with a crooked grin, leaning an elbow on the table. Her cheeks were still flushed, but her spine straightened when he looked at her, chin lifting just slightly like she was preparing for battle.

“Fire away,” Jett said, watching as she cleared her throat, clearly trying to look unaffected while scratching a few notes on the paper in front of her. “Ask your questions, Wifey-pooh, and I’ll answer any of them.”

Her eyes narrowed, but not in anger—more like disbelief.

“Okay, stop with calling me Wifey-pooh…”

“Why? I love it, and you’re my wife now.”

She gave him a deadpan look. “It sounds like you are about to have a bowel movement.”

He barked a laugh, tipping his head back, the tension of the day easing slightly as the absurdity of it all settled in. Yeah, this wasn’t what he expected, so he decided to play stupid. People had assumed they knew him, why not let one more assumption slide.

“Nothing,” Karen retorted, her cheeks flushing even more. “Just call me by my name – and that’s it.”

He blinked, caught off guard by her tone. “But…”

“I prefer Karen, and that’s all I will respond to,” she said firmly, looking him dead in the eyes.

He sat back, nodding slowly, trying not to show how much the cold shoulder stung.

“Now, full name?”

“Jett Lennon Acton – and the dude said it at our wedding. Remember?”

Her brows lifted like she was unimpressed. “Age?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“This is all stuff I should have asked long before now,” Karen muttered, her expression tightening. Her brow pinched, and there was something about it—something so unguarded and earnest—that made his chest ache. She didn’t know how beautiful she looked when she was annoyed. Not the flashy, model-perfect kind of beautiful he was used to, but the kind that made you want to stay, to try, to be better.

He wasn’t used to this—being scrutinized. Usually, women were too busy tossing their hair or laughing at his bad jokes. But Karen? Karen was studying him like she was trying to figure out what kind of mess she’d signed up for. He couldn’t blame her. This wasn’t exactly the fairy tale either of them had imagined.

“Any diseases?”

Her voice cut through his thoughts, clinical and precise. He shook his head.

“Nope. I use protection.”

“Did not need to know that because that’sneverhappening…”

The words hit him like a slap, the sting spreading before the meaning truly settled. “Wait a second,” Jett interrupted as her words floated to his ears. “What do you mean?”

“We’re not sleeping together.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded. “It’s our wedding night, and you just asked if I had any junk on my stuff, so I assumed that we were gonna…you know.”

“I asked if you had any diseases because you kissed me – and you can spread germs, diseases, and other things through kissing. I never once referred to your… stuff.”

“We’re married.”

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