Page 20

Chapter 19

Nash

“C an you stop bouncing your knee?” the director asks. I nod. “And don’t tap your fingers.”

I’ve decided I don’t like this dude. His name is Fisher. That’s not a name, that’s a profession or a hobby. He’s got a sleazy vibe and a smug face and… I think he’s got the hots for my wife.

Christ, I hate that I like how the word wife sounds. The longer this farce goes on, the more comfortable I am with playing house with Tenley. I spent the time between the two games in Vancouver hanging out with Tate, Grady, and Crew because the day we landed Callie Garrison told her family about the squatter on her ovary. A solid cyst, potentially, but they needed to do a biopsy to be one hundred percent sure it wasn't cancer, given her family history. Crew spent a lot of time on the phone with Liv, which made sense because Callie is her mom. I also called Tenley every night. She was now mad at her cousin Shelby, a nurse, who apparently knew all along about Callie.

We split the games with the Comets winning one and Quake winning the other. That put us up three-to-one in the series, which meant tonight's game was crucial. I needed to focus and get in the zone, but instead, I was sitting on an uncomfortable folding chair in the corner of my living room doing what they call one-on-one segments—the interview excerpts they'll pepper into the series.

“So… ready?”

“Sure. Whatever.” I know Tenley is frowning from somewhere over in my kitchen but I can’t see her.

“Tell me what it feels like to get this far in the playoffs.”

What a dumb fucking question. “It doesn’t feel like anything at the moment. I mean it feels achy and exhausting but it doesn’t feel like an accomplishment right now.”

“You’ve won an entire series and you’re on the verge of winning another,” he prompts.

I can feel the muscles in my mouth trying to turn downwards and have to fight to keep my eyes from rolling upward. This guy is a total douche. I take a long slow breath. "Imagine you train your whole life to climb Everest. The whole thing, not just basecamp." He nods. "I haven't climbed the whole thing yet and that's all I want. So each series is basecamp. If we don't make it, I'll one day look back and think, well how many people can say they made it to base camp? But today is not that day. Today all that matters is the summit."

He nods, glances at his camera woman, and then changes his line of questioning entirely. “Does adapting to marriage make this playoff run extra hard?”

“What?” I hate saying ‘what’ on camera. What, why, pardon, huh, all make me sound like an idiot.

“You’re a newlywed. Having Ten around…” He pauses. “Having Tenley around, living with you, cheering you on, it makes it different, right? So has it been easy to adapt?”

“I mean, I’m sure it’s not as hard as other life changes,” I mutter and my knee starts bouncing again.

“Knee,” Tenley calls from the kitchen.

“Well, fuck. I am not cut out for this.”

Suddenly she cuts in front of the camera and the Fisher dude yells cut in a tone dripping with aggravation. She stands between me and the camera and bends to whisper in my ear, which also puts those glorious off-limit tits in front of my face because she's wearing the hottest sundress with a v-neckline. Her skin is sun-kissed as we've been in a bit of a heatwave and she's been to the beach a few times. "Nash-Hole, hubster," she whispers in my ear. "Talk about our marriage like it's hockey. A new play you have to learn. You never sound like a bumbling idiot when you talk hockey or sex, but I don't think that's the direction we should go here."

She pulls away and I’m chuckling to myself. She winks and turns to the small crew. “I’d move the light too. And take it down a watt. He’s overexposed in more ways than one,” Tenley says to the crew. “And you should try shooting slightly off-center. It’s a better angle and makes the subject less… stressed. Feels less like a suspect interrogation video for everyone.”

“I’m the director, Ten.”

“And I’m the producer,” she retorts and smiles at the camera woman who’s already moved to the position Tenley recommended. She really has a gift for this. “And we learned this in school, Fish. Just helping. Thought you might have forgotten.”

“Fish er ,” he corrects.

Tenley just smirks.

“Can we get this done?” I ask, knowing it sounds harsh. “I have other things to do before the game.”

“Like what?”

“Sleep. Eat. Shower.” Fuck my wife.

Fisher goes on to ask me a bunch of stupid questions. He hits on everything from hockey to home life to my childhood growing up. “If you were to have become an accountant, would your dad still have been proud of you?”

"No," I say flatly, and once again I can feel Tenley's stare even though she's not in my sightline. "He'd be annoyed because I'd have lost a million jobs by now. I suck at everything math."

I hear a snort. It must be Tenley. I ignore her. Finally, ten minutes later, which has cut into my nap time by fifteen minutes, according to my game day schedule I follow, Fisher and the crew call it and start to pack up. I stand. “I’m heading upstairs.”

“Sweet dreams, hubster.”

Only I don't drift off right away. How can I? They're all yammering downstairs and in a loft, it's not like I can close the door to muffle the sound. The only place with doors is the bathroom and unless I want to sleep on the shower floor, I'm stuck listening to the crew chatter with Tenley as they clean up. To her benefit, she does shush them a lot. Fisher's voice is deep though and he's one of those guys who hasn't mastered the whisper.

“Is that cheap bastard ever going to get you a ring?” he asks Tenley.

She laughs. “I told you. It’s being sized.”

“That excuse has reached its expiration date, killer,” he quips and I don’t like that he has his own nickname for her. “Get him to buy you a ring. When the marriage fails you can sell it and use the funds for your next documentary idea.”

“Shut up,” Tenley says, but her tone is unbothered. I’m bothered. I gave her a damn ring—my grandmother’s ring—and she isn’t wearing it. In fact, it’s in the cupboard with the coffee mugs.

Finally, the loft falls silent. They have all left, except Tenley I assume. She usually tucks herself away in my office when I'm napping. I manage to turn my brain off and drift to sleep. My Apple Watch goes off a couple hours later. I turn it off, then tap the button for the electric blinds on the two windows in the room. As they raise and fill the room with light, I see Tenley. She's over by my dresser. She's wearing the Quake jersey with my name and number that she wore to games before she got a WAG jacket. And that's all she seems to be wearing. Her long, tanned, lean, bare legs are on display.

“Ten?” I say my voice thick with sleep. “What are you doing?”

“I’m reporting for duty,” she says softly and turns. In one hand is my pocket rocket vibrator and in the other, my lube. “Game day orgasm inducer.”

I am instantly hard.

She makes her way to the bed, standing beside it. I roll up onto one elbow, reach out with my other hand, and lift the hem of her jersey. Yep. She’s naked and I get an unobstructed view of her pretty little pussy for a second before she steps away and the jersey falls again. “I wanna blow you today.”

She stares at me. I roll onto my back and toss the duvet away. "If you're expecting an argument or even a polite 'are you sure' sorry but you aren't getting it."

“Finally learning I only say what I mean and mean what I say?” she says, crawling onto the bed on her knees and dropping the lube and vibrator on the duvet before leaning over me.

"Yeah. And also I just want to fuck your mouth so bad it hurts." I reach up cup the back of her neck and pull her lips to mine. My tongue sweeps through her mouth. She tastes like caramel and vanilla and I know she's eaten ice cream. I saw it in the freezer. It's as close as I'll get to the sweet treat until this run is over.

We make out for minutes but she's as impatient as I am, and she very promptly slides down my body and between my legs and wraps that annoying but pretty little mouth around the head of my cock. I sink into the bed, lying my head back, closing my eyes, and enjoying the moment. She is good at this. Really good. Her lips are warm and soft, her hand on the base of my shaft firm, and the pressure and suction and… I feel something slip between my butt cheeks all slick and cool from the lube. I can tell she's not as confident or as experienced with this and I have a wave of self-consciousness and wonder if I should stop her. I don't do this with everyone. Gabby and I messed around with it in other ways, and there was one bed buddy a couple of years ago who introduced me to it, but I mean, kinks are intimate, and being intimate with Tenley feels a little bit like stepping into a cage filled with lions and pouring barbecue sauce all over myself.

“Tell me if I’m messing this up,” Tenley says after popping off my cock for a second. But then, as her mouth slides back down, I feel the vibrator slip past that first ring of muscle and I arch my back.

The groan that flies from my mouth when that little silicon machine presses into just the right soft spot is obscene. My hands go into her hair and as fireworks explode behind my eyes, I fuck her mouth and come like a volcano exploding. Words hurl themselves out of my mouth but it’s pure gibberish.

“Well, that was fun,” she says after she pulls her mouth off me and swallows. The vibrator has already been pulled away.

“Sorry, I… I meant to warn you. I come quick and hard that way,” I say, struggling to catch my breath.

“It’s refreshing to see you so… uninhibited,” Tenley says and presses a kiss to my forehead, damp with perspiration. She starts to get off the bed. “I’ll go prep one of your meals.”

“The grilled chicken breast over Greek salad, with some sweet potato fries,” I command and then add a, “please,” because she’s not my maid and even I realize I sound like a dick. I’m just so worried about breaking my routine.

“No worries. I wouldn’t make you anything else,” she assures me. “Besides the other meal in there is baked haddock on wild rice with green beans and fish is gross. I am not stinking this entire house up with that.”

“You don’t eat fish? Like of any kind?” I ask, sitting up to hopefully catch a flash of her perfect ass as she heads down the stairs.

“Nothing from the ocean.”

“Nothing? No seafood? No fish? Lobster?”

“Nothing from the ocean unless a cow went swimming,” she announces and continues down the stairs.

“But… you’re from Maine!”

I hear her laugh. “Stop stereotyping, Nash-Hole.”

I smile. She makes me nuts, but it’s kinda fun.

After my shower, I eat as Tenley changes for the game. She comes out of her office bedroom and she’s put back on her sexy sundress. “You’re wearing that to the game?”

"Yeah," she sighs. "WAG group chat says we're all wearing sundresses tonight. Apparently, now we don't just wear matching jackets, we have themes."

“I had no idea,” I say but when I think back to last year… yeah I can see themes for outfits emerging. Maybe? I honestly barely paid attention to the WAGs before I got one.

“And Liv isn’t even here to do it with me,” she pouts. “I mean I fully support her going home to be with her mom. It’s just… these women are a lot and I get treated weird because I’m like the nepo-baby bride.”

I almost choke on my chicken at that. I have to take a big swig of water. “Nepo-baby bride?”

“I’m a Garrison and so I already had special privileges in this world and now I’m also a Westwood.” She sits on the stool beside me and plucks a sweet potato fry off my plate, shoving the whole thing into her mouth before I can steal it back. “You know that McDaniels' wife actually said 'Well sugar you were hockey royalty already and now you've snagged a Westie so what are we supposed to do? Crown you twice and curtsy?'"

She mimics Caleb McDaniels’ wife’s southern accent and ends the interpretation with a high-pitched laugh which I’m assuming is what Jaymee McDaniels does. Tenley drops her head into her hands dramatically. “She’s the only one that really annoys me and Liv keeps me from nipping at her like an angry Pitbull.”

“You can stay home, you know?” I remind her as I finish the last of my pre-game meal. “I won’t mind and the doc crew must have more than enough crap on us that they don’t have to film you every game.”

I carry my dishes to the sink as she shakes her head. “I want to go. My brother is about to win round two tonight. A step closer to back-to-back Cups. My parents can’t be here, because Mom rightfully won’t leave Aunt Callie’s side, so I have to be. And Liv made me promise to cheer on your brother for her too.”

I nod. I hate the tiny sting I feel deep in my chest when Tenley’s answer doesn’t involve wanting to support me. She drums her fingers on the island countertop and my eyes land on her bare ring finger. The conversation between her and Fisher earlier flashes through my head. I open the cupboard where she stuck the ring box.

"I have to go to this WAG meeting if you guys win this series," Tenley explains. "During the conference finals, we have to start planning your day with the Cup."

“That soon?”

She nods.

“Who planned it for you last season?” I give her a sheepish smile and she answers her own question. “Your mom.”

She laughs. I sit back down next to her at the island and drop the ring box on the counter between us. She leans away from it like it’s possessed and might attack her. “Jesus Ten, it’s just jewelry.”

“Yeah but… I mean…” She shakes her head. “We’re taking it a little far, aren’t we?”

“We’re living together and fucking on the regular,” I remind her. “And you think the ring is too far?”

“It feels official.”

“The license was the official part. If it helps, I can get you drunk before I put it on your finger so you don’t remember that either,” I joke and she flips me the bird. “Wrong finger.”

I take the ring from the box and reach for her hand. She yanks it back and jumps off the stool. “You can’t slide it on my finger. That’s super cheesy and weird. And romantic, which is inappropriate.”

My God, she's ridiculously uncomfortable right now and I'm enjoying the hell out of it. I stand up and walk toward her. With every step I take forward, she takes one back until we're standing in the living room and her calves are butting up against the coffee table so she can't keep moving away. I hold up the ring and start to lower myself to one knee. “Tenley Jennifer Garrison, will you do me the absolute?—”

Tenley lets out a blood-curdling scream like I just turned into a giant spider, in a Michael Myers mask, holding a machete. I’m laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes and can barely get off the floor. Also, ouch, why is my leg throbbing again? I make it to my feet and she’s grabbed a pillow off the couch and proceeds to whack me with it, repeatedly, until I steal it from her. She lunges to grab it back. We’re a tangle of limbs and I finally drop the pillow and grab her arm, tugging her into me. She stares up at me, unamused by how amused I am.

I tilt my head and kiss her, deeply. It really shouldn't feel this good. When I break the kiss I take her hand, turn it over, and place the ring in the center of her palm. "Wear the damn thing. I promise it means nothing."

Then I step away and head to the front hall to find my lucky toque, ignoring the fact that the promise that just left my mouth felt as fake as Fox News.