Page 32 of Sin Bin (BU Hockey Season 2, #1)

I’m pretty sure my grandmother went to college to get her MRS degree.

Besides, they still see me as the wild child I once was, and if I come home from a weekend getaway—one they wanted to chaperone, by the way—with a whole lot of regret and a request for legal help to undo the mess I’ve tangled myself in, well, it will prove what they already know—that I leap first and ask questions later, that I’m still the girl who’ll do anything she’s dared to.

So you need my help as much as I need yours? he signs, his dark blue eyes filled with hope.

Probably more , I admit. I know your team wants to avoid scandal, but I bet some athlete at some school is doing dumb shit as we speak, which means that our spotlight will be stolen in no time.

Maybe, Ollie signs, shrugging. But my father’s memory is a lot longer than any average fan or social media follower.

And while he may never give this marriage his blessing, it makes my life a hell of a lot easier if we stick with the script Val laid out.

My dad doesn’t believe in the concept of true love, but he wholeheartedly believes I’m a loose cannon with no impulse control.

If I walk back on my promises now, that pretty much proves his point.

I take a second to process his words, and I realize that Ollie and I have more in common than I ever thought. We’re both free spirits who struggle under the weight of other people’s expectations.

So, you talked to your folks today? I ask. I know he was planning to reach out them, so they heard the news from him first, but I wasn’t sure if he had a chance to call.

Yeah, he signs, wincing a little. My parents are aware I’m a married man now, and they weren’t exactly thrilled. Don’t take it personally. I come from a family of assholes.

I cringe. They took it that well, huh?

My dad said, and I quote, ‘Congratulations on your latest stunt’, and my mom asked if you’re pregnant. Those two are a piece of work and I’m sorry.

I frown at my very handsome husband. Stop. No more apologies. Their reaction has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with them. That’s a lesson I learned after my dad left. His issues are his, not mine.

Ollie leans back in his seat for a minute, like he’s mulling over my words. What about you? Did you talk to your family? Aside from Booker, of course.

My dad and I don’t talk, and that’s for the best. I haven’t heard from Gran and Grandad yet, but I’m sure they’ll have plenty to say. I did manage to get a hold of mom and Emersyn, though. My cheeks heat when I remember the conversation with my sister.

Oh my God, are you blushing? Ollie asks. You are. Please tell me what Mama Zabek said to make your face turn that shade of pink.

It was Em , I admit. She, uh, asked me how big your dick is and if that’s why I said yes.

Ollie hoots with laughter, just like I knew he would. I like her already, he signs.

The flight attendant stops at our row to hand out snacks and drinks. Since Ollie has the aisle seat—and the longer legs— he gets to take the lead on that. As for me, I’m thinking about my mom’s reaction.

Mom was shocked that we leapt right into marriage without really dating , but what really shocked me was when she said that she always thought Ollie and I would find our way to each other.

He’s been my brother’s friend for a couple years, and he’s spent time with our family over summer breaks and holidays.

Mom told me she had a feeling we were perfect for each other.

That comment left me even more stunned than Emersyn’s did.

Ollie puts two bags on my tray table and smiles triumphantly. I look to see that he’s given me both bags of pretzels and taken the bland wafer cookies for himself. Best husband ever, he signs, pointing his thumb back at himself.

I pretend to think for a minute. This will get you some points for sure, but I’m pretty sure you still owe me a wedding night, so I’ll hold off on giving you a trophy.

I’m joking of course, but sometimes I get carried away and say more than I should.

Based on Ollie’s silence, this is one of those times.

Did we? he asks, his eyes wide.

Did we what? Have sex? No , I sign back.

We definitely did not. I have a distinct memory of us lying in bed once we made it back to the hotel.

You turned toward me, cupped my breasts, and told them you were sorry, but you needed a nap, and you’d give them your full attention in a few hours.

You were naked by that point, and I’d taken my jeans off, so when you tossed your boxers, I grabbed them and shimmied into them because I was freezing.

Ollie looks relieved for a minute, but I’m not done with this conversation.

Val said we had to be convincing, right? I ask, my fingers forming the words.

I have to admit it’s gratifying when he drops the bag of cookies he was holding and doesn’t seem to mind that they’re now scattered all over his tray. Uh, yeah. I guess we should figure out what that’s gonna look like, right? I mean, technically we live together, but ? —

I cut him off because I have an answer to all the questions running through his mind.

In the course of our brief marriage, we’ve dealt with shocking news, legal issues, and several pissed-off in-laws.

Those are hardships married couples face.

But don’t you think that if we deal with all the bullshit of married life, we should reap the benefits, too?

What are you saying, Fallon?

I’m taking a risk, but then again, I’ve never been a cautious person. I’m saying that I’m your wife, Ollie, and I want all the privileges that come with that title.

I watch as Ollie swallows visibly. Like two bags of pretzels?

And more, I sign.

You want to get a joint rate on car insurance? Make sure I can never testify against you in a murder trial? He asks .

That’s not really what I have in mind , I tell him, biting back a smile.

Then what are you thinking? You need to spell it out for me, Ollie signs, his eyes never leaving mine.

I thread my fingers through his. We both have reasons for staying married to each other, and I know we haven’t talked about a timeline, but I think that, for as long as we are married, we should be married in every sense of the word.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, but as I watch him, I don’t brace myself for the sting of rejection. I can tell by the tense set of his shoulders, the flush of his cheeks, and the way he squirms just a little in his seat that Ollie wants me as much as I want him.

The question is, what is he going to do about it?

Let me get this straight , he says, his eyes on mine again . You want this to be a real marriage? In the physical sense?

Yes. I’m a married woman, and I want to have sex with my husband, I answer, seeing no need to play games.

I’m not being impulsive. I’ve given this some thought.

I’m on birth control, and we can use condoms until we both get tested.

It’s practical because if we’re intimate with each other behind closed doors, it will be that much easier to be affectionate when we’re in the public eye.

But that’s not the only reason. I’m attracted to you.

We have chemistry. When we’re not picking on each other we have fun together.

And I don’t know if we’re setting an end date for all of this or what, but it’s unreasonable to expect us both to be celibate.

And let me make one thing clear: I don’t share.

The smile Ollie gives me is positively predatory.

And the kiss he follows it up with is borderline obscene.

His fingers curl around the back of my neck as our lips collide.

We’re hungry for each other, and neither of us tries to hide it.

Our tongues tangle as he pulls me closer.

I’m vaguely aware that we’re far from alone—there are at least a hundred and fifty other people on this flight— but that doesn’t stop me from arching up into his embrace, my breasts pressed against the firm wall of his chest. The woman across the aisle from us clears her throat loudly, and Ollie lets out a muffled groan as he reluctantly pulls away.

Soon enough, the exhaustion of the day settles around us.

When my husband leans back in his seat, and his eyes shutter closed, I realize our hands are still intertwined.