Page 16 of Puck, Marry, Thrill

It was primal.

It was absurd.

And it was working for her in ways she didn’t want to analyze too closely.

She turned her head, watching him through her lashes. “Keep talking to me like that, and I’ll start a fan club for you,” she purred, her voice coming out far more breathless than she intended.

Kenneth’s head snapped toward her, eyes widening as if the words had struck him just as hard as they’d hit her. For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick and charged. She hadn’t meant it like that, not like some hockey-obsessed puck-bunny, but the way his gaze darkened said he’d definitely taken itlike that.

Then, like a dam breaking, laughter burst out of both of them. It was awkward, unplanned, a little ridiculous—but also strangely perfect. The kind of laugh that made her stomach ache and her eyes water, that felt like shaking off tension neither of them had realized was there.

They quieted.

Then met eyes.

And started laughing again.

“Okay, that was weird, wasn’t it?” Kenneth admitted under his breath, still half-chuckling as he checked the rearview mirror and craned his neck. “You okay back there, Zach-Attack?”

“Two fumbs-up, Daddy.”

Kenneth grinned, something soft flickering over his features before he turned back, sliding a glance toward Jamie before shifting the car into drive.

Jamie couldn’t stop watching him.

Yeah, this guy was like an onion. And she was determined to peel back every single layer. If they were going into this fake marriage as strangers, she’d be darned if theystayedthat way.

No—she was jumping in, both feet.

* * *

Two hours later, the tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Jamie shifted in her seat, exhaling slowly through her nose as she glanced around the packed courtroom.

Apparently,todaywastheday to get married in Detroit. Couples surrounded them—some giddy, others nervous, all of them buzzing with excitement. But in the seat next to her, Zachary was fidgeting, hunched over her phone as he launched a red bird at a cluster of green pigs. He sat between her and Kenneth, his little fingers drumming impatiently on the screen.

Kenneth, on the other hand, looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.Preferably somewhere involving boiling oil,Jamie thought wryly. He hadn’t said a word in at least thirty minutes, but his body language screamed louder than any words ever could. His knee bounced, his foot tapped, his fingers drummed on his thigh in an erratic rhythm. And then there was the watch—dear heavens, the watch. He checked itagain,his brows drawing lower with each passing second.

People were staring.

Of course, they were.

A famous hockey player, towering over most men in the room, impossibly good-looking, and wearing the expression of a man who had just stepped in something foul—yeah, people were bound to notice. Their eyes darted to him, then away, as if gauging whether it wasreallyhim,theKenneth Salas, sitting here looking like he was being dragged to the gallows.

The contrast between them and the other couples waiting their turn was almost laughable. Everyone else had that soft, dewy-eyed glow, fingers laced together, practically floating in anticipation. Meanwhile, Kenneth sat there radiating something that fell somewhere between boredom, irritation, and mild hostility.

Love-struck fiancé?

Not even close.

The man was treating this like a business transaction, something to cross off a to-do list. A duty. A task to be completed. And that much was obvious to everyone in the room. His ‘game face’ was not just absent—it was in the negatives.

Jamie swallowed down the flicker of hurt that tried to rise in her chest. It took alotto shake her, and she refused to let his impatience, his restless shifting, or his ever-deepening scowl affect her. She’d built armor over the years—thick, resilient. And if Kenneth thought he could crack it with a few sighs, grumbles, and some watch-checking?

Well, he didn’t know her very well at all.

“Salas and Bellavance party?”

The words had barely left the magistrate’s mouth before Kenneth shot out of his seat like he’d been launched from a catapult. The entire bench wobbled under the force of his movement, and Jamie instinctively reached out, steadying a wide-eyed Zachary as her phone slipped from his small hands and landed in his lap.

---