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Chapter Five

PAYTON

I’ve never been a fan of innuendos. And Luke’s was fairly clear.

I’m sure it comes with the newlywed territory, which would be fine if that’s what Lily and I actually were.

I reach for her suitcase, fully planning to take her bag to the spare room, then stop as the full ramification of our situation slams me like an opponent gone rogue, flying down the ice in a breakaway.

I turn back around to face Lily. “I…did not think this through.”

Her lips purse together. “No, you didn’t. Which room is yours?”

“Mine?”

She rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, Payton, yours. I certainly can’t sleep on the couch.”

“Of course not. I will.”

Brows pinched, she studies me. “Don’t you think that would raise questions with Luke?”

I blink and shake my head. “Right. Of course. I guess I’m struggling with the lies more than I originally thought.”

Her expression softens as she takes a step closer to me. “ You could just tell everyone the truth. Would certainly make things easier.”

For a moment, I consider her suggestion. Besides simply loving the game, I pursued a career in hockey to build my own life. Not something defined—or dictated—by my familial connections to royalty. I simply wanted to be a regular bloke.

Now, in light of this new title of heir apparent, I feel like I’m fighting to hold onto my dream. If I tell Luke and the rest of the team the truth, that will change the whole dynamics of what I’ve worked so hard to put in place—my anonymity and autonomy.

I shake my head. “No, let’s stick to the plan.”

“You mean the original plan you never intended to keep?”

Just enough sarcasm to soften the harsh reality. “Right, again. Sorry about that.” I gesture to the first door. “That’s my room there.”

She darts off with her suitcase in tow.

I follow her into the room, then divert to the dresser. She’ll need places to put her clothing, so I start opening drawers on one side and sweeping items out by the armful.

“Payton, what are you doing?”

A pair of balled socks falls from my arms to the floor, as if to punctuate the moment. “Making room for your things.”

“That’s unnecessary. I’m used to living out of a suitcase. I’ll stow it in your closet or under the bed to keep it out of sight.”

I glance at the empty drawer. “I’ll just dump these over here for now and show you the wardrobe.” I drop the pile of clothes onto the bed and stride to the generous walk-in. “There’s plenty of room in there.”

Lily stops next to me. Shelves cover a small section to the left, then two levels of hanging bars extend to the back. On the opposite side, the same thing but instead of shelves, shoe cubbies fill the space.

“That’s quite a closet.” She seems surprised .

My clothes only take up half the space. “One of the highlighted features of the place. Probably intended for couples. Real couples, that is.” I try to inject some humor into my tone. My wardrobe feels small with her musky vanilla scent wreaking havoc with my senses.

When she swivels her head to look around, I find myself fascinated with the swish of her ponytail and the delicate curve of her neck, reminiscent of one of the porcelain ballerina figurines my sister likes to collect.

That is not something I should be noticing right now.

This is a business arrangement and nothing more.

However, Lily is unlike any woman I’ve ever met.

She’s edgy yet reserved. Assertive when necessary, yet inquisitive without being intrusive.

And she has a mind that’d put a top-tier coach’s playbook to shame.

Having her in my bedroom may prove to be more of a challenge than I expected.

She unzips the top of her suitcase and tugs out a small zipper case. “Bathroom?”

I probably look like a skittish pup the way I jerk myself back to reality, dart toward the loo, and push open the door. “Plenty of vanity space, so feel free to spread out. And towels are in the linen cupboard, amongst other things. Make yourself at home.”

A slight blush creeps up her cheeks. Does she react to all men like that? Or just me? And why am I hoping it’s the latter?

Brilliant. Could I sound any more like a prize idiot?

I can’t recall being this rattled before.

Last season, an enforcer on our opponent’s team decided to target me for the entire second period because I skated into their goalie during a shot on goal.

The lot of us fell like dominos as one of their blokes tried to block me, and we wound up a tangled mess in the crease.

After that, I had to constantly watch my back to avoid getting battered into the boards.

But even that didn’t unsettle me as much as Lily does.

She rests her hand on my upper arm. “Relax, Payton. We’ll figure this out. I’m fine. You’re fine.” Her brows dance together as she studies me. “Why don’t you rest while I unpack? I think you need it.”

I inhale deeply, realizing at the same time that I’d been holding my breath, then exhale. “Right. I’ll go and read a book. Or something.”

Naturally, I shut the bedroom door when I leave to give Lily privacy, but as soon as I hear the click of the latch, the tension in my shoulders releases, and weariness from the long flight hits me harder than a crosscheck.

The last thing I remember is sitting down in my favorite reading chair and opening the Kindle app on my phone.

Soft voices filter in, rousing me into a foggy state of awareness. The clink of a dish followed by the sound of running water lures me back to reality.

And my current predicament.

I’m tempted to keep my eyes shut and pretend I’m still asleep—pretend that none of this is real, that there’s isn’t a gorgeous bodyguard standing in my kitchen, ripping apart a head of lettuce with startling gusto.

I make a mental note to never let those hands near my head, as I’m quite attached to it.

Perhaps losing my head isn’t what I should worry about, though.

I’m beginning to think there’s more to Lily—and I mean a lot more—than just the abbreviated story she gave me.

She’s stronger than she appears, too, which I can tell she uses to her advantage.

Best way to surprise your opponent is by deception, of course.

We are neck-deep in subterfuge here, and Lily’s carefully guarded depths draw me in like a cat with a few lives to spare. And I’m almost certain I’d lose a few .

Resolved to table this examination until a later time, I stretch my stiff limbs as I yawn.

“He’s awake.” Luke’s voice rumbles through the room.

Lily glances at me but says nothing. However, her smirk tells me one of two things. Either she realizes what a pathetic bloke I am, or she’s satisfied with her work destroying a head of lettuce.

Not entirely sure which I prefer, to be honest. “Please tell me I didn’t drool. How long was I out?”

Smirking, she dries her hands with a towel that says ‘I only puck around in the kitchen.’ I dearly hope she didn’t read it. “Almost two hours.”

Without looking up, Luke shakes his head. “Didn’t think you’d opt for sleeping, Pay.”

If this is what it’s going to be like when I tell the rest of the team, I may have to reconsider this strategy.

I scan Lily’s face for her reaction but see none.

Not even a slight blush or an awkward gesture.

So, unlike me, innuendos don’t seem to bother her, yet she blushed when we were in the bedroom.

I stand and wander over to the kitchen area of my open-plan apartment. “What are we making?”

Lily raises her brows, seemingly surprised. “We?”

Luke slides a package of steaks across the island toward me. “Payton’s the master cook of this residence, which I’m going to miss, by the way. Sophie’s great in the kitchen, but not like Payton.”

“Oh, really?” Lily leans against the counter with a gleeful expression.

“Don’t tell her I said that.” Luke shoots a warning gaze with his words, then gives Lily a look of disbelief. “He hasn’t cooked for you yet?”

I clear my throat. “No, never had a chance. I was staying with my parents, so we always went out.”

A slight twist of the truth. I went out some while I was back. Just not with Lily. I dart my gaze to her, making sure we’re on the same page.

She dips her chin as her brows lift, as if to say ‘well done’ while Luke stoops to grab a pot out of the drawer.

“Then tonight, you get to show off your cooking skills to your new wife. We’ll take care of the salad. You do the rest.”

My new wife…

I mentally shake myself to brush off the weight of those words, reminding myself that all of this is temporary.

I’m confident the investigation into my cousin’s death will be resolved quickly, and then Lily can be on her way back to England.

Or wherever she calls home. I make a mental note to ask her more about that.

After doing my best to impress my fake bride with my cooking skills, the rest of the evening glides along with good food and easy banter.

However, I noticed Lily grew very intent when Luke mentioned his father and that they were recently reunited.

Again, she displayed her curiosity without being intrusive, but I personally found her questions quite telling as they seemed to focus on the familial aspect, especially regarding Luke’s sister.

I suppose that makes sense. Lily said she grew up in foster homes.

I can’t imagine what that was like. My family’s always been close—sometimes too close, if you ask me.

But to go through life without that kind of support system…

I make a mental note to call my sister tomorrow and speak to my mother, as well.

Once we finish clearing the remnants of our meal and load the dishwasher, Luke excuses himself, pleading weariness and an early morning ahead of him.

I do not miss the wink he sends me as he passes on the way to his room.

And the click of his door punctuates yet another awkward moment about to ensue.

Lily busies herself wiping the counter and hanging the dish towel over the oven handle. After which, she finally lifts her gaze to mine. She glances toward the spare room and whispers, “I need to do a perimeter sweep and check the cameras.”

“Cameras?” I whisper back.

She nods. “Del set a few up yesterday. Just precautionary.”

This feels way more serious than it ought. “I’ll come with you, then.”

“No. It’s dark out. Too risky.” She picks up her phone and swipes the screen. “I won’t be gone long.”

I close the distance between us so I can keep my voice down. “What about your safety? A woman walking around at night alone? Sounds even riskier if you ask me.”

“I can take care of myself, Payton. That’s what I’m trained for, remember?”

The image of her ripping apart the head of lettuce comes to mind. I fear if I got in her way, she’d fold me like a pretzel.

“How could I forget?” I clear my throat. “What if Luke walks out?”

“He won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I drugged him.”

“You what?!”

“Shhh!” She snorts and bends over, shaking with silent laughter, then finishes with a long sigh as she straightens. “I’m just kidding. He made it pretty clear he was giving us our privacy.”

“Fine. But if you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m coming after you.”

She takes a long breath that matches her slow blink. “If that makes you feel better.”

Feel better? If there’s one thing we Brits do to extreme, it’s proper etiquette. However, letting her go outside alone at night goes against every fiber of who I am as a man.

She shuts the door quietly behind her, and I can’t rip my eyes from it. Tomorrow, we have our first practice for the upcoming season. Will she insist on hanging about the arena to keep her eyes on me like she did on the plane?

If so, what do I tell the blokes? That my new wife is clingy?

That we can’t stand any kind of separation?

That I want her there to boost my morale?

I mentally groan because, no matter what I say, I’ll look like a right muppet who panicked and ran straight to the altar.

Might as well ask her to wear one of my jerseys so she can truly fit the part.

Wouldn’t that be a sight? Lily wearing my jersey as she cheers me on…

And that’s the image that captures my imagination as I stare at the door, waiting for my fake bride to return.