Page 19 of Slap Shot (Blades Hockey #5)

Daisy

By the time I shower off the day and change into a pair of comfy pajamas, itˇs past eleven. If I still had my accounting job, I would have been in bed hours ago for an early wakeup call, but being jobless does have its perksas in, if I want to eat my feelings in the middle of the night, thereˇs no one around to stop me.

The floorboards creak under my feet as I pause outside Westˇs bedroom. His door is closed and the thin strip of space between it and the hardwood floor is completely dark. He must be in bed already.

I swallow my disappointment and head for the stairs.

Living with West has come with its own set of adjustments. Mainly, my new husband thinks nothing of strutting around the house without a shirt on. I mean, he doesnˇt even bother with putting one on when heˇs whipping something up in the kitchen. Itˇs a serious health haphazardto his perfect body and to my own sanity.

Downstairs, the living room is drenched in creepy shadows. I flip on every switch that I come across. By the time I get to the dining room, almost the entirety of the first floor is beaming with light. Then I step into the kitchen, fumble for the switch on the wall, and let out a bloodcurdling scream when a gray streak moves directly in front of me.

West doesnˇt scream but he for sure jumps a foot in the air.

¨Fuck, Daisy,〃 he growls, gripping my biceps, ¨what is wrong with you?〃

¨I thought you were in bed!〃

¨I texted you an hour ago to say that I was heading out.〃

¨Oh.〃 Sheepishly, I readjust my glasses from where they slipped down my nose. ¨I might havemaybeburied my phone in my underwear drawer so Iˇm not tempted to keep checking if Brian Murphy has decided to put us on blast. He hasnˇt, by the way. Not yet at least.〃 I tip my head back to look up at West. ¨Whereˇd you go?〃

With a small sigh, he steps aside and waves a hand at his kitchen island. ¨Made a run for you.〃

Itˇs like Christmas morning exploded in the form of all my favorite snacks. There are bags of Cape Cod chips, M&M cookies approximately the size of my face, and boxes upon boxes of SweetTarts. Awed, I whisper, ¨Did you clear out every corner store in a five-mile radius just for me?〃

West snorts. ¨Well, I didnˇt do it for me.〃

¨But youˇll have a cookie with me?〃 I follow him deeper into the kitchen. ¨Itˇs practically tradition.〃

¨Itˇs not a tradition if we havenˇt done it in years. Like, since college.〃

As I drop onto one of the bar stools, I am not above batting my lashes at him. ¨ Please ? One cookie, West. A bite. A nibble. A crumb, even.〃

He rolls his eyes. ¨You can be such a brat, you know that?〃

¨I am clearly in my feelings right now. Here I was, planning a nighttime excursion to snack on some of that Laughing Cow cheese that you always forget is in your fridge, but I ask you thiswhy eat alone when my favorite person on the planet can keep me company instead?〃

¨Maybe because itˇs almost midnight.〃 Despite his grumbling, he claims the stool opposite mine. ¨And unlike someone else I know, Iˇve got practice bright and early tomorrow morning.〃

¨Hey, no need to rub my temporary retirement in my face, thanks.〃 Popping open the plaster container housing the M&M cookies, I select the best looking one out of the bunch and silentlybut with loads of eye contactslide it toward Weston. ¨For the sake of tradition.〃

True to what he said, itˇs been years since we last had a late-night session like thiseasily since our college daysbut thereˇs something kind of wonderful about pushing all of Westonˇs buttons while he reluctantly accepts the chosen cookie. Itˇs easily the size of his hand. Instead of taking a massive bite, he breaks off what probably amounts to a few crumbs and pops them into his mouth. With a low moan, his eyes slide shut in appreciation.

Ducking my head, I hide a smile behind my hair. ¨You really didnˇt have to do all of this.〃

¨I wanted to,〃 he utters without hesitation. ¨Today was kinda shit. That stuff Murphy said about your mom〃

¨Yeah.〃 Inelegantly, I tear open the closest bag of chips only to set it down when my attention veers back toward West. ¨Well, what about Northwood? I had no idea you went there for a year.〃

He lowers his gaze. ¨I begged my parents to let me go when recruiters started coming around. I was the only one in my grade getting scouted at that point, and it did crazy things for my self-confidence. Not that it mattered in the end. Mom and Dad pulled me out of Northwood before the season was even fully wrapped.〃

¨Iˇm so sorry.〃

¨Nah, donˇt be. It all worked out. As Fate would have it, I ended up at UConn a few years later and met this girl.〃

I preen. ¨I hear sheˇs very kind, very respectable.〃

Ignoring my sass, West finishes, ¨She can be a real menace, sometimes, but Iˇd be lost without her.〃

¨Wow, so sweet.〃

That sensual mouth of his curves wickedly. ¨I thought so when we kissed.〃

¨Oh my God, you did not just say that.〃 Except that he totally did, the jerk, and his mossy green eyes are still dancing with mirth when he carefully breaks off another tiny section of his cookie. From beneath his dark blond lashes, he watches me closely. Almost in unison, we speak at the same time:

¨I was thinking while I was out〃

¨In the shower, I couldnˇt help〃

We break into awkward laughter, urging the other one on with a wave, until finally, I give in first. ¨He was right,〃 I admit begrudgingly. ¨Murphy, I mean. Getting married out of the blue like we did is pretty suspicious.〃

West dips his chin in agreement. ¨Yeah, it kinda is.〃

¨Iˇm not really sure if thereˇs a solution. Iˇll becan I be honest with you?〃

Sensing a serious turn in the conversation, his voice deepens to a husky pitch when he vows, ¨Always, sweetheart.〃

There he goes dropping that endearment again.

I like it. I like it so much that it takes every ounce of self-control to streamline my suddenly chaotic thoughts into something hopefully more coherent. I push my glasses back into place. ¨I donˇt really care what anyone has to say about me online. I know how that soundsno, stop. Come on, West, donˇt make that face. Iˇm being serious!〃

¨And Iˇm being serious when I say that no one gets to talk shit about you.〃 He lowers his elbows to the island and leans in, the fabric of his sweatshirt straining across his broad chest with the forward movement. ¨They donˇt get to make you feel bad about yourself, Daisy. No one doesnot Brian Murphy, not your dad, and definitely not some random stranger on the fucking internet.〃

¨Brian Murphy doesnˇt matter to me.〃

¨Good. He shouldnˇt,〃 West mutters grumpily, this time tearing off a whole chunk from the cookie heˇs still eating. He offers the piece to me between his forefinger and thumb. ¨Here.〃

Issuing a quick thanks, I pluck the baked treat from his fingertips and take a small bite. ¨What did you say? When you stayed behind, I mean?〃

¨Itˇs more about what I made him do.〃

My brows lift. ¨Should I be calling a lawyer?〃

¨No. Just made sure that he deleted every trace of our visit from his records. Didnˇt want him getting any bright ideas.〃

¨Oh. Thatˇs not too bad〃

¨And I told him that if he ever makes my wife cry again, Iˇll shove my hockey stick so far up his ass, heˇll be coughing up splinters for weeks.〃

I open my mouth.

Clamp it shut.

Okay, so, violence is never the answer but tell that to the swarm of butterflies taking up residence in my stomach. I polish off the M&M cookie, seeking to replace the emotional rush from Westˇs declaration with an artificial sugar high. Both are bad for my health, but here I am, swept right off my feet by my temporary husband whom Iˇve only kissed once.

God, I have it so bad for him.

I clear my throat. ¨What were you going to say? Before, I mean.〃

West passes me the rest of his cookie. ¨We need a more hands-on approach.〃 Iˇm not sure what my face says in response to that, but he forges on with renewed determination, his dark blond hair slipping into his eyes. ¨Thank about it. Right now, weˇre surfacing every few weeks with some big new headline. Hey, weˇre married. Oh, look, hereˇs this interview we did. It all feels contrived.〃

¨PR sort of is contrived?〃

¨Exactly.〃 Slipping his fingers into his hair, West pushes the strands back from his face. ¨But Murphy went off-script, didnˇt he? And it worked for him because it caught us by surprise. Like the opposing team making a breakaway when youˇre still thinking your slap shot made it between the pipes. What if we take Murphyˇs approach?〃

Smoke and mirrors.

The more I turn the idea over in my head, the more it makes sense. ¨Giving fans content around the clock could work,〃 I muse out loud. ¨On the other hand, giving them, well, more of me might blow up in our faces. Thereˇs no way to tell how itˇll play out until weˇre monitoring the comment section and analyzing the data.〃 Popping the last bite of the M&M cookie into my mouth, I shamelessly lick the crumbs from my fingers. ¨Lucky for us, that was always one of my favorite parts about Confessions of a Puck Bunny . Nothing makes me nerd out faster than a breakdown session with numbers and some wineWest. Hey, Earth to West, are you even listening?〃

His cheeks are flushed.

His cheeks are flushed and heˇs staring at my mouth .

My heart starts beating in double-time. No, triple. Actually, I might be having a heart attack.

Instinctively, I dart my tongue out to delicately trace the seam of my lips, seeking any last remaining crumbs. I donˇt do it to torment himthen again, besides our one and only kiss, when has West ever seemed particularly tormented by my proximity? Literally neverbut his expression shutters with some inexplicable emotion that I canˇt quite put my finger on, and then he shocks me completely by rasping, ¨We need an amendment.〃

¨To our rules?〃

Though his gaze flits away, his chin jerks in an almost imperceptible nod. ¨If we want to be believed then we need to be convincing. Daily content from the Cain household.〃

Faintly, I hear myself say, ¨We donˇt need to amend the rules for that.〃

Itˇs a blatant taunt, a chance to see what he might do

West doesnˇt disappoint.

He reaches into his sweatshirt pocket for his cell, which he sets down on the island halfway between us. I stare at the phone. He stares at me. ¨We donˇt have an end date,〃 he says gruffly, ¨that rule doesnˇt change. But unless we want people prying into every corner of our lives the way Murphy did, we need to give them more than what theyˇve been getting.〃

¨Like kissing after a game or something?〃

Green eyes flit down to my mouth before being wrenched away. ¨Yes.〃

Pushing my luck, I ask, ¨Or a kiss shared over some late-night snacks?〃

Maybe itˇs all in my head, but I swear West shivers.

I have no idea whatˇs going on right noware we flirting? Is he flirting? I wouldnˇt know. In all the years that weˇve been friends, Iˇve never actually seen West hook up with someone. When he first signed with the Blades, there were a few late-night texts where he mentioned talking to girls with his teammates, but those pick-ups never seemed to last long, and West always made it a point to stress how happy he was to get back to his hotel room and call me.

Iˇm not sure what changed. Iˇm not sure if anything has changed. Thereˇs a very good chance that all he wants is keep the heat off my back as Bunny, and heˇs willing to sacrifice his own lips for the sake of the cause.

I glance at his phone again.

From somewhere deep, I pluck out a thread of courage. ¨Truth or dare.〃

His answer comes on a swift, ragged breath: ¨Dare.〃

Here goes nothing .

Baby steps.

¨I dare you to kiss my cheek on camera.〃