Page 111 of Pucking Strong

Fuck, I don’t know what I’m even thinking. He’s a teammate and a friend. Full stop. I’m sure nothing untoward is happening. Teddy is just dedicated to his job.

I think perhaps I’m just hungry.

And oddly nervous.

I’m going on a date with my husband. But it’s a fake date, orchestrated by our PR director. There will be a cameraperson ready to photograph us entering and leaving the restaurant. And Poppy expressly asked that we “crank up the spice” to quell the nasty rumors that this is all just some kind of publicity stunt.

Well, I suppose thisisa publicity stunt. The date, I mean. All part of Poppy’s grand Operation Mighty Oak. But our marriage doesn’t feel like a stunt. It may have been spontaneous, born out of necessity, but my affection for Teddy is very real, and growing stronger every day.

Poppy assures us that in a couple weeks, this will all die down. For now, the gossip machine is firing on all cylinders. My American agent, Laura, has been harassed by the press all week. They want an official statement about my press conference. But the conferencewasmy official statement. I’ll not be making another one. Poppy said it went viral, so why would I bother?

She was so touched by my including Novy and Morrow in my remarks that she baked me enough cookies to feed my entire apartment building. She brought them by last week, tears in her eyes, and stayed for two hours, letting her daughter play with Karro.

I fight the urge to check my watch for a third time just as the front doors of the practice arena open. Teddy comes striding out, and my eyes go wide. He’s wearing a sleek forest-green suit, a black belt and shoes, and a white shirt, no tie. The shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His hair is pulled back, bundled at his nape.

Behind him, a few of the guys, including Novy, pool out of the open doorway, wolf-whistling and calling his name.

“Yeah, Teddy!”

“Get it, superstar!”

“That’s my physical therapist!”

Teddy just laughs, his smile lighting up his entire face, as he waves them off and strides over to the car. He’s almost reached it before I remember myself. I fling my door open and step out, circling the back of the Porsche to try to beat him to the other side. Like Teddy, I’m dressed in a suit with no tie, only mine is stone blue.

“Hey, Karlsson, have him back by ten,” Novy shouts.

The others all laugh.

“Looking good, Karlsson!”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, boys!”

I brush my hand down the front of my crisp white dress shirt and open Teddy’s door for him.

“Hey,” he says, breathless. “You look great.”

“As do you,” I reply. “Is that my suit? I don’t recognize it.”

He just grins, slipping into the front seat. “Nah, it’s mine.”

We make it to the restaurant with less than a minute to spare. I give my keys to a valet. Offering Teddy my hand, I help him unfold his long legs and stand. This little sports car may not be practical for two men as tall and broad shouldered as we are, but that’s not really the reason one buys a Porsche.

He presses into me as the valet rushes behind him to shut his door. “How we didn’t just get a dozen speeding tickets, I will literally never know.”

I just chuckle. I’m about to lead the way inside when Teddy stiffens, his hand wrapping around my arm. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“He’s right over there—no—don’t look,” he hisses as I’m about to turn. “He’s literally standing in the fucking bushes. Oh god, this is like something out of a bad movie.”

“What do I do?”

“Don’t turn around! Just act natural.”

I sigh, feeling foolish. “We can’t stand here, Teddy. Let’s just walk in.”

“Okay. But do we, like, walk in together? Like, hand in hand? Or do you sort of walk ahead? What will look more believable for pictures—”

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