Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
At the face of the team owner.
22
IT’S KIND OF A FUNNY STORY
Hayes
Oh, shit.
Jessie Rose is shooting a closed-mouth smile at us. Her brow arches, and I swear I can see wheels turning in her brain.
“Good morning,” says the polished, poised woman as her misses-nothing gaze strays to my hand, then Ivy’s, then the picture splashed across my phone screen—Ivy and I pledging to love each other in front of Elvis and a couple teammates.
Jessie doesn’t waste time with questions. “Congratulations are in order.” She waggles her fingers at the phone. “I want to see the wedding pics.”
Ivy is frozen in place.
Words are stuck in my throat like we’re not really married, that was a joke, we were drunk.
But Jessie’s not speechless. “The brand-new mascot and the new guy,” she says, clearly delighted by this pairing, maybe even picturing how it might look to the press.
“Well, we’re um—” Ivy begins, but then turns to me, her blue eyes saying help me.
I jump on the remark from the owner like it’s a puck, and I’m flying down the ice, ready to slap it into an empty net. “It’s kind of a funny story,” I start because I can finesse this story like a play. Quickly, I run through my options. I’ll say something about a dare. A good time. I don’t have to say we were drunk. I’ll just say it was a prank. Jessie won’t be pissed about that, will she?
But my stomach churns immediately in answer. It’s not a great look to be three games into a new team and getting annulled due to a whim or a dare either.
Jessie’s faster than my attempt to devise an excuse. “I love wedding stories. I can’t wait to hear. But hold on a sec.” She taps her chin, her sharp brown eyes assessing. She glances at a diamond bracelet watch on her wrist, a gift from her husband, I’m sure. “In a couple weeks, Cade and I are sponsoring a charity golf tournament and luncheon for our foundation that gives scholarships to first-generation college women getting business degrees. You know, Ivy”—she turns to my not-so-easy-to-annul wife—“the one I mentioned yesterday. Anyway, a couple at our table dropped out, and we’ve already paid for it. I would love to have the two of you take their spot. You’d be perfect for it.”
She’s picturing how we look together like we’re the new sweet couple.
“Actually,” Ivy begins, apologetic, as she likely girds herself to tell the truth of our drunken dare.
But I’m hearing the story of the mascot who lost his job for after-hours parties. I’m hearing the echo of Oliver’s voice saying the Ice Crew are the brand ambassadors for the team. I’m thinking of Ivy’s horrible ex-boss and terrible ex-boyfriend screwing her over.
There’s only one solution. I don’t care about anything at all but making sure no one—not a single person on earth—screws over Ivy again. I won’t let her take the fall for this. I reach for her hand, clasp it, and hold it tightly. “My wife and I would love to go,” I say with a grin.
Ivy’s hand freezes in mine, but Jessie smiles, a pleased, professional one as the elevator arrives at the lobby. We step out and Oliver’s waiting by the elevator banks, his gaze connecting with Jessie’s, then with us.
He’s doing the math too.
“Oliver, look who I found in the elevator,” Jessie says, beaming as she gestures to us. “A pair of newlyweds. Why don’t you two join us for coffee? We can talk about the charity lunch.”
Oliver’s brow knits, like he’s puzzling this out. His eyes say how did you get married without me knowing you were even dating? But then he rearranges his mouth into a PR smile, and he must just decide to go with it.
“Well, that’s fantastic,” Oliver says.
They step ahead of us and Ivy’s no longer a shocked robot. She whips her gaze to me, her lips a ruler, her eyes asking what the fuck, her hand squeezing my knuckles like she’s going to break them.
I flash her a grin. Sometimes a man’s got to protect a woman.
23
THIS FAKE MARRIAGE GAME
Ivy
On the bright side, Jessie is wearing a fantastic pair of Lily Greer pumps. Of course she was able to get some delivered overnight.
But on the not-so-bright side, what the fuckity fuck?
As we round the corner past the elevators, weaving through the casino behind Jessie and Oliver, I jerk Hayes’s hand. Hard. I hope he has to see the athletic trainer about some wrist pain. When we’ve slowed enough to get a smidge of privacy, I mouth, What the hell?
Hayes tips his forehead to the pair still walking ahead of us. “You saw how excited she looked. Imagine if we’d told her the truth,” he hisses in a low voice.
I scoff, shooting him a dirty look as we pass a row of The Wizard of Oz slot machines, the witch cackling as we go. “Imagine when everyone finds out the truth.”