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Chapter Eight

LILY

Payton’s silence on the way home was telling. My guess is he’s struggling with the whole fake wife scenario in light of the honor he received tonight, which is understandable.

During my brief time in the military, I learned the importance of working with a team and trusting we had each other’s backs. That required transparency and authenticity. I imagine hockey is similar, and Payton’s secret must be weighing heavily on him, which makes me totally regret kissing him.

I was playing my part, and perhaps I fell prey to Payton’s competitive streak. How could I not counter his sexy wink? And how was I to know the surprise celebration was also about honoring him with the title of alternate captain?

A perfect storm of bad timing.

We arrive at his apartment before Luke since he stayed behind to help clean-up. I guess one of the perks of being a guest of honor is no KP duty. Always nice to have some bonuses on the job.

After we walk inside, I drop the car keys into the bowl sitting on the table by the door and send Del a text to confirm we’re secure. As I follow Payton into his bedroom, he tosses his new jersey on the bed and drops onto the end with a bounce, holding his head in his hands.

In case Luke walks in, I close the door. “Want to talk about it?”

He sits up and shoots a steely glance at me. “Is playing therapist part of your job, too?”

His attempt at humor falls flat, sounding more like sarcasm. But I’m not offended. I understand where he’s coming from. Well, kind of. These guys are his friends. Some closer than others. They care about Payton, and he obviously cares about them. They’re much closer knit than I expected.

Relationships have always felt messy to me.

Not sure why, other than I learned quickly not to get too attached at an early age.

Thus, I keep most people I meet at arm’s length.

Del’s probably the first person I’ve let in to some degree, but that took several years of her basically wearing me down with her constant presence and ridiculous jokes.

“No, but I’m happy to listen. You’d be amazed how often a principal spills their guts to their bodyguard.” I take a spot on the opposite end of the bed.

He shifts to face me. “Is that what I am? A principal?”

I shrug. “Or client, if you prefer.”

Nodding, he returns to his previous position. “I’d prefer not to be in this situation at all.”

“You could still tell them the truth before this goes any further. They seem like a supportive bunch. I’m sure they’d understand.”

He drops his hands, letting them hang between his knees, and sighs. “It’s not just this fake marriage thing. I’ve never told them anything about the title my family holds because I consider it inconsequential to who I am here. And that was the point. But now, it seems…”

“Deceptive?”

Payton groans. “Yes, I suppose. For lack of a better word.”

“Would you prefer dishonest?”

He glares at me. “I think you’re better at being a fake wife than a therapist.”

I try to stifle a giggle and fail. “Just trying to help. No judgment here. That’s definitely not part of my job.”

As I rise with the intention of getting ready for bed, he catches my wrist. The feel of his calloused fingers on my skin is rough yet stimulating in an unexpected way.

The memory of kissing his cheek flashes front and center in my mind and sticks there.

The rough stubble of his five o’clock shadow, his spicy clean scent, the warmth of his skin against mine…

“What would you do?” His eyes plead with me for a genuine answer.

I drag my focus from the sparks running up my arm to his question. “I can’t answer that, Payton. This is your life, and you know it better than anyone.”

That’s the one area I think I can relate to most about him.

Clearly, he wants to live his life on his own terms. After growing up in multiple foster and group homes, being told what, how, and when to do anything and everything, I jumped into the military because it made sense.

And felt familiar. While enlisted, I learned a skill set and gained independence, but ultimately, I realized I wanted to live life on my own terms.

He lets go of me. “You’re right. I need to figure this out on my own.”

Still feeling his touch, I brush my wrist with my other hand. “Sleep will help. Let your unconscious mind chew on it overnight. Things always look clearer in the light of day.”

He nods, yet says nothing.

In the week since we arrived in Sarabella, Payton and I have established a nightly routine, taking turns in the bathroom and getting settled for the night.

Again, I take my place on the left side of the bed while Payton sleeps on a pallet on the floor on the opposite side.

I can’t imagine he’s sleeping very well, and though I’m sure his tossing and turning is due to what happened earlier, I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt.

I keep my voice to a whisper in case he’s fallen asleep. “Payton, are you still awake?”

“Yes, why?” He sounds husky but not sleepy.

“Why don’t you take the bed tonight? You’ll need a good night’s rest for your game tomorrow.

” It’s their first pregame, which Payton explained didn’t count toward their standings but did help their coaches evaluate the team and the rookies and helped get the fans excited about the new season, especially in Sarabella.

“I’m fine.” He roughs out.

I grab my pillow and walk around the bed to his side. Payton’s sprawled on his back with one muscular arm swung over his forehead, revealing part of his bare chest.

And there’s enough moonlight seeping into the room for me to notice. “Swap with me.”

He sighs. “Lily, I already feel like a proper git as it is. That would just make it worse.”

Damn his chivalrous nature. Time to switch tactics.

“Then let’s share the bed.” I gesture toward the king-sized bed that’s remained undisturbed on one side. “There’s plenty of room. Unless you don’t think you can handle it, that is.”

I know I’m probably playing a little dirty here, but challenging him seems to be the best way to stop his bullheadedness so he can consider an alternate solution.

He flings his arm down. “I’m exhausted enough to throw a bit of caution to the wind.” He sits up, making the muscles on his abdomen tighten in a very appealing way, then gathers his pillow and blanket as he stands. “But I’ll sleep on top of the bedcovers.”

I return to my side of the bed. “Whatever works for you, big guy.”

“We’re back to that nickname again?” He sighs through his words.

“Still waiting for you to pick out mine, husband.” I find a little humor always helps diffuse a potentially awkward situation.

Payton positions himself on the bed—on top of the navy comforter—then spreads out his blanket to settle over his feet and lies back with a sigh that shifts into a groan of relief. “Guess I’ll sleep on that too, wife.”

Within seconds, my smile widens at the sound of his soft snore.

After driving Payton to the arena this morning and running surveillance for a few hours until Del took over, I took a quick jog before returning to the apartment to clean up for the game tonight.

While getting dressed, I found one of his jerseys—notably without the ‘A’—hanging in front of my clothes with a note pinned to it that pushed an odd flutter through my stomach.

For tonight. To keep things believable.

My phone buzzes with a text. I pick it up, fully expecting an update from Del to find Payton is now texting me.

Payton: Left you something in the closet.

Lily: I just noticed.

Payton: Figured you’d need it for the game.

I may not be a sports fanatic, but I’m fully aware of what wearing the jersey means under normal conditions. Ours is far from normal.

Lily: It’s missing a letter.

Payton: Uh oh. Is that grounds for a divorce?

Lily: Only if I get sent to the penalty box.

Payton: Hmm, that could be interesting.

I think he’s flirting with me. And with a little innuendo, I might add.

As much as I’m looking forward to seeing Payton play, I’m not excited about posing as the doting wife, who’s eager about watching her husband skate around an ice rink and whack a puck into the net for the next three hours. But duty calls.

A strong sense of anticipation accompanies me to the game tonight.

I’ve been to plenty of stadiums, but never a hockey arena.

I shift my shoulders in the oversized jersey as I make my way to the area on the seating diagram Payton texted me, explaining this was where the WAGs—wives and girlfriends—sat during the games.

As I get closer, I spot Sophie’s bright pink hair band first. A swatch of pink peeks out above the collar of her jersey, which has “Jameson” across the back.

She wore a pink and white polka dot dress to the party with matching pink shoes, so I’ll assume she’s a pink freak.

I kind of like that—the way she wears her passion boldly.

And the blonde woman sitting next to her has Ethan’s last name, so that must be Mia.

Phone in hand, I shoot off a text to Del.

Lily: Entering the lion’s den

Del: Play nice

Lily: Grrrrrrr…no promises

I pocket my phone as I reach the aisle they’re sitting on. Both women smile at me simultaneously. That’s a good sign.

Sophie jumps up and rushes in for a hug. “You made it!”

At least I’m prepared this time to return her embrace. “Of course. I can’t wait to see Payton play.”

Which is true, actually. I’m curious to watch how he moves on the ice as compared to our morning runs.

Payton’s one of those joggers who makes running appear effortless as he floats along.

He’s a natural athlete. And at this rate, I’ll be able to manage a marathon with ease. Not that I’d want to, though.

Mia smiles and wags her hand her way. “Come sit.”

Sophie waves me in ahead of her, so I guess they want me to sit between them. I shift into high alert because that can only mean one thing—they want to get to know me. Hopefully, the game will be the bigger attraction tonight.

“How are you settling in? Have you had a chance to explore Sarabella?” Sophie blinks her big eyes at me with her ever-present smile. This girl is like cotton candy—sweet and pink.

“Just the beach. Payton and I jog on it every morning.”

Mia’s eyes widen. “Every morning? Oof. That’s dedication.”

I leave out the part that I have to go where he goes, of course. “Helps to have a running buddy.”

Sophie rests her hand on my arm, so I swing my attention back to her.

“If you need help finding anything, just text me.” She digs into a large brown bag at her feet and hands me a business card sporting the Sarabella Herald Tribune logo and ‘photojournalist’ next to her name. “I know Sarabella inside and out.”

“She does.” Mia nods with a wide grin. “If it weren’t for her, my wedding would have been a disaster.“

Sophie giggles. “She’s exaggerating.”

Mia snorts. “Not really.”

I can’t help but smile at these women. Kind of reminds me of a foster home I stayed in briefly when I was about ten years old.

The family had two girls around my age. I felt like I had sisters for the first time in my life, but then their father got a promotion that required them to move out of state.

Back to the group home I went and the next time I was placed with a family, I knew better than to get too attached.

Pregame announcements blast through the speakers.

Cheers and shouts fill the arena in epic volume as the first line of the Sun Kings is introduced.

When Payton’s name is called, my heart does a little flip-flop, then shifts into overdrive when I see him skate out fully geared.

Despite the helmet hiding a lot of his face, I can still see those oversized dimple grooves on each side of his mouth.

And I don’t miss how he taps the ‘A’ on his shirt as he takes his place on the ice.

The national anthem is sung by a local talent, and I’m fascinated with how the fans pass a huge American flag across the seats on the other side of the arena. Once the announcer introduces the players, they take their positions in the center of the ice. Payton takes his place for the puck drop.

For most of the first period, I study him, impressed with his skill and how he skates on the ice.

He’s graceful yet powerful. I’m drawn to his every move and search for his return after he leaves during rotations.

The more I watch, the more I’m convinced he’s more comfortable on skates than walking on his own two feet, except when he gets shoved into the wall, which Sophie said were called boards.

But I’m more concerned with the opposing team player who slammed Payton for the third time in the first period.

I lean toward Sophie. “Is it me, or does that guy keep going after Payton?”

“Oh, it’s not you. That’s Houston Jennings. He’s had it in for Pay since the end of last season.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “Not sure exactly, but I suspect it’s because the Sun Kings knocked them out of the Kelly Cup playoffs last season. Pay stole the puck from him and shot the winning goal.”

I need to find out more about this guy. While Sophie and Mia go to the concessions for sodas and soft pretzels, I use the restroom as an excuse to send a text to Del so she can do a quick check.

Del’s reply hits my phone just as I’m about to head down the steps to my seat.

Del: Nothing comes up immediately. Let me dig a little more.

Hmmm. Something must have caught her attention if she wants to do further research on this dude. In the meantime, I’m concerned for Payton, but not enough to alarm him. I’ll wait for an update from Del in the meantime.

“Everything okay?” Sophie’s voice breaks my concentration.

Somehow, I missed her and Mia walking up to me.

I pocket my phone and take the offered soda and pretzel. “Thanks. What do I owe you?”

“Our treat.” She frowns at me. “Are you sure you’re okay? You looked super serious when you were looking at your phone.”

“Just concerned about Payton.” Before they can ask any more questions, I head down the steps to our row. This time, I wait for them to take their seats first. That way Sophie can sit by her best friend, and I can manage one of them at a time.

Not that I mind their company, but I’d rather not be the center of further scrutiny. And until I hear from Del, I’m on high alert for anything else suspicious.

Second period starts in a few minutes, but Payton won’t be the only player I’m keeping my eye on.