Page 9 of Dirty Groom (Slayers Hockey 7)

The speculation is bad enough as it is now. The voices that cut off when I enter a room and the whispers that pick up before I’m even out of earshot.

Rumors about Ray. About me.

About why he strayed in the first place and whether I’ll finally take him back.

If they find out what I did, they’ll never stop talking, and—

“Hey, it’s going to be fine.” He covers the fist of my hand where it rests over my thigh with his. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

“As a married couple,” I whisper. A beat passes and we both give in to a quiet laugh.

When we pass the exit for O’Hare, I sigh. “So that’s a no on Vegas, huh?”

“Sorry, gorgeous. That’s a no.”

* * *

Liam

I drive for a while,heading north and then west before bringing us back around so we’ll be close when our hour runs out.

“Not this exit, the next one,” she says, when I hit the signal and start to move over.

“I know.” There’s a Mobil station ahead, and I pull in, driving past the pumps to the far corner of the lot where I stop.

Turning in my seat, I take her hand. “We don’t have to go back. At least not right now.”

Worried blue eyes meet mine. “We said an hour. Your friend—”

“Could grab an Uber and leave any time he likes. He’s fine. Though my money’s on him turning your sister into his new best friend if he hasn’t already.”

Honestly, I know it was a dick move to dump him like I did. We’re supposed to be in the air right now, and I know it was important to him to go.

Thing is, that vow I took to protect this woman I barely know is rooted inside me, taking precedence over anything else. Crazy as it seems, that’s how it’s been from the start.

And right now, the need for some time to figure things out is written in every line of her pretty face.

Damn, I’ve thought about that face.

“Let me take you to my place for the afternoon. You can think. Talk if you want or not talk at all. I’ll bring you back out tonight, sooner if you feel like you’re ready.”

“I feel horrible about bailing on Misty. But—” She shakes her head, eyes getting glossy. “I’m freaking out. I have no idea what I’m going to tell her. She knows your name. She knows when we met. She knows enough that there are going to be some serious questions about the guy I just took off with.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. Your secret estranged husband showing up is no trivial thing. Give yourself a break for needing a minute.”

I can see the indecision in the way she worries her bottom lip between her teeth, but in the end, she agrees. “A few hours. And then I’ll be ready to face this head-on.”

I drive us back into the city. With the holiday and snow, it takes longer than I’d like, but even in the stop-and-go afternoon traffic the tension radiating off Stormy since we left seems to have eased. And when we make it to my building, the tension in me eases too.

Inside the apartment, I help her out of her coat and hang it in the closet across from the door while she unzips the heeled winter boots that hug her calves and somehow make walking in the snow safe while still looking sexy.

“This is gorgeous,” she says, walking into the main living space. “Smokey hardwood. Spacious layout…” She slants a look at me. “I bet you have a hard time finding rooms that fit you.”

I huff a short laugh, shaking my head. She teased me a year ago about the same thing. No normal-sized hotel room would be big enough for my shoulders, so I had to go to a Vegas casino hotel.

Coming up behind her, I raise my hands to her shoulders, ready to pull her into my chest, but stop short.

Christ, what am I thinking? I don’t know what the rules of physical contact are for a fake marriage that happens to be legal with a woman I’ve only kissed but has fallen asleep in my arms. Considering she literally ran from me this morning, I’m guessing they translate roughly into:Don’t touch, asshole.

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