Page 42 of Rule 1: Never Accidentally Marry Your Teammate

Tension still moves through my body, and I might be trembling. I park the car in the underground lot.

The guard gives us a curious look when we enter together, because of course he knows we’re married.

“Congratulations,” he says, his voice gruff.

I flash my best blissful smile because we’ve got to sell this romance, then grab Noah’s hand. His fingers link with mine. I’m used to female hands. I’m not used to a hand bigger than my own, solid and grounding. I don’t mind it.

Noah and I stride through the corridors. Black-and-white photos of successful past Blizzards players line the corridor, illuminated by a golden glow.

I doubt my heroes lied to the team. My heart tenses, but this is fine. Totally fine.

Troy ducks his head out of the locker room, then grins. “It’s the lovebirds!”

“Have we stepped into the fifties?” I grumble. “I thought goalies were supposed to be quiet and mysterious.”

“Who says I’m not mysterious?” Troy’s eyes dance. “You’ll get used to him, Noah.”

“It will be my life’s pleasure,” he says, and something about the way he says it, his voice earnest and happy, makes my heart pound.

I think about kissing his hand, but then realize that might be unnecessary. Guess I’m good at this acting thing.

I swing the locker room door open, still holding Noah’s hand, then stop.

We’re greeted by bright gold and silver balloons and streamers and the wide smiles of the team. Vinnie and Evan eye us in a bemused manner, but even they smile when we enter. A banner that says, “Just Married” drops down, and someone flicks on “Here Comes the Bride.”

The music drums through the room.

“Surprise!” Troy yells, then he flings glitter and confetti at us. “The paper store didn’t sell rice.”

I try to get the glitter and confetti out of my hair. “You shouldn’t have.”

Troy laughs.“Kiss!”

I blink. “Seriously?”

“Of course.”

I stiffen, and Troy’s bright smile fades. I sense the others looking at us more, and my mouth dries. I’m conscious of Evan and Vinnie staring at us.

“Maybe they don’t want to,”Vinnie says.

Oh, no.

“I, um, always want to kiss, Finn,” Noah says, like the good sport he is.

“I mean, dude, the chemistry between you two is off the charts,” Troy says finally. “Get some of it out of your system.”

Some of the others laugh. I feel like they’ve exposed a secret. Like they’ve read all my secret thoughts. I stiffen. The guys can’t really want us to kiss, even if they seem to be nodding and smiling and laughing.

I rake a hand through my hair, then slide my gaze toward Noah. He’s looking at me wide-eyed. I’ve never noticed how long his lashes are before. Pink assaults his cheeks, and he bites his lower lip.

I remember what his lips tasted like when we kissed in the elliptical room in Los Angeles. I remember what his chest felt like pressed against mine. I remember the citrus scent of his skin.

“Um...” I don’t like being uncertain. I know I’m a great skater. I know I’m great at hockey. I know I’m great at throwing parties. I know I’m great at making videos.

But this, this makes me uncertain.

I’ve already gotten Noah into this. Does he want to keep on kissing me? The guy saw my dick this morning. That was supposed to be the traumatizing event of the day. He doesn’t need to also feel my tongue, also feel my lips.