Page 10 of Playing for Keeps

“Twenty-five.” I straighten my spine and press my palms into the counter. That’s not just a guy and his parents. That’s a whole web of family members now roped into this stunt. I press my lips together, thinking about what his agent told him about all the deals he’s trying to secure. “Are you sure you want to do this? Are those endorsements really worth lying to dozens of Stags? How will we convince them that we’re madly in love?”

Gunnar groans, slumps over the sink, and then lifts his head to meet my eye. “I don’t know, dude. Brian says it’s important. The truth is, I just have this sense, and I need to see this through. Fuck it, right?”

I bite my lip because I did say that. Something is happening here, and it feels really huge, but I don’t have the words to describe it. I’m attracted to Gunnar physically, without question. But I’m sheltered enough when it comes to men that I know I can’t embarrass myself and suggest we try anything physical. The mere thought of presenting my awkward virginity to this virile specimen of sexuality leaves me nauseous.

Gunnar is still staring into my face, questioning. He says, “I don’t think it’ll be that hard to get them to think I’m hot for you, Emerson.” He winks.

My eyes fly wide, and I shake my head. “That’s not … we don’t have to talk about that.”

Gunnar brings the dish sponge to his chest like he’s offering an oath. “You are absolutely safe with me, Emerson. But also, I meant what I said in Vegas. I’m happy to seduce you. Just say the word.” When I scoff, his cheeks turn pink above his scruff. “Shit. Do you not like dudes?”

I puff out an incredulous sound. “I like men just fine.” He makes a face I can only describe as sexy, and I groan. “Look, I’msuper exhausted, and I’ve only known you a day. I just … need to go to bed, I think.”

He places his hands on the edge of the sink and nods. “Sleep tight, Emerson.”

I stare at the man I married, watching as he finishes the dishes. “Night, Gunnar.” I slide off the stool and walk into my new room, my body buzzing with confusion and anticipation.

CHAPTER 6

GUNNAR

Textsfrom my brother Odin start firing at me in the middle of the night. He must have woken up to an earful from our mom. He’s in England for grad school because, I remind myself, he blew out his Achilles tendon, and his professional sports career was gone in a fraction of a second. This life is fleeting. The endorsements, the money, the opportunity to play pro hockey…it’s fragile. Odin is the entire reason I left college early to go pro. His injury destroyed him emotionally, but it rattled our whole family. I need to take advantage of this career while I can because it could be gone tomorrow.

ODIN

You got married? Like legally married?

ODIN

To a human woman? Without introducing her to Mom and Dad? What the hell is wrong with you?

ODIN

Why didn’t the twins stop you?

ODIN

You better smooth this over with Mom. She can’t keep calling me in the middle of the night. Thora is trying to sleep.

Oh, sure, I bet it’s Thora bothered by all this. I power off my phone and throw it across the room. My sleep is so messed up, and I have goalie training before team practice in…well, in a few hours. I stare at the ceiling trying to come up with things to tell my parents about why Emerson and I are staying married, until my alarm goes off and I drag my bleary ass to shower.

I don’t usually drink coffee, but I figure Emerson might, so I brew a pot and chug down some of that. Feeling more human, I make my way up to the practice facility north of the city. A lot of the guys live in the suburbs up here, but my family has always lived in the city. I can’t imagine moving away from my family. I realize it’s incredibly lucky that my hometown team picked me, but again, that’s because my dad brought them more than one cup. I’m sure they’re banking on his genes helping me more than they apparently do.

My commute is the opposite of most, so there isn’t much traffic as I hop on the highway and think about my situation. It’s pretty messy.

From what Emerson has told me about her family, she had a strict upbringing and didn’t have the most loving home life. I’m hoping I can deflect some attention by talking about givingherspace to figure out the next steps.

Mom’s entire legal career has been dedicated to supporting women and families, which will probably work in my favor. I just need to drop a few hints about Emerson’s dad shaking her shoulders at the train station, and Mom will have to be restrained from sending an assassin after him. Dad will be the one who holds Mom back.

Feeling secure in that plan, I head to the locker room, gear up, and meet Anton, our veteran Ukrainian goalie coach, along with Grentley—not dressed due to his hip injury but hovering to gloat or feel secure in his status as the real starting goalie. Or something.

Anton warms me up with a thousand low shots between sprints and on-ice stretches. Grentley glares from the side with his arms crossed, grunting every time I miss the puck. The hour passes quickly, and the rest of the team starts straggling onto the ice, which is when the trash talk begins in earnest.

Our center flicks the puck between my legs into the net. “Your wife teach you that move, Stag?”

A winger aims low, and I do the splits to save the shot. “I see your hips are nice and limber, Romeo.”

Usually, the teasing is funny. Expected. My head is a mess today, and I know I shouldn’t, but I’m taking it personally. When one of the twins reaches around the net from behind and sneaks the puck past my skate, I throw my helmet off and slam my brother into the boards.

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