Page 107 of Wild Love
“Last night was incredible. I wouldn’t change any of it.”
“You want to be married to me? We aren’t even together. I mean not really. This was supposed to be a summer fling.”
“I told you last night. I want you to be mine.”
“I think we skipped a few steps. I could be your girlfriend, for starters.”
“Girlfriend, wife.” I shrug.
“Seriously, Maverick. What are we going to do? You are a professional hockey player who has assets to protect, and I’m…. Oh god, my internship.”
“Breathe, baby.” I rub her shoulders. “I’m not worried about my assets. You wouldn’t even let me buy you a real ring last night. I doubt you’re going to clear out my bank account when I’m not looking. And this actually helps your internship. They can’t fire you if you’re married to a player.”
She kneads her forehead with two fingers. “I know this is hard for you to understand, but I need them to believe I’m the right person for the job because of my work and not because I tricked some hot hockey guy into letting me work his endorsement and then married him to keep my job.”
“You and I both know that isn’t how it went down.”
“But that’s what they’ll think.”
“I’ve never cared much what other people think.”
Her eyes fall closed again, and her chest rises and falls with a deep breath. “We should keep this between us until we figure out what to do.”
“All right.” Little bit of a kick in the gut to see her second-guess being with me. “When we get back, we’ll figure it out together, okay? Let me bask in my newlywed glow a little longer.”
“I can’t believe you’d want to be married to me.” She melts in my arms, and I hold on tight.
“Easily the best decision I ever made.”
* * *
We get backSunday afternoon and lie around the rest of the night. Monday morning, Dakota is up with the sun, lacing her sneakers and taking Charli for a run. She hasn’t said anything else about our Vegas wedding, but I know she’s still spinning.
I’m making her smoothie when she walks through the front door, sweaty and red-faced. She lets Charli off the leash, and my girls move toward me.
“For you.” I hand her a glass and then set Charli’s food bowl on the floor. “And for you.”
“Thanks.” She sets it on the counter. “I need to catch my breath first. I’m out of shape. It hurts.”
“When you ran track, what distance did you do?”
“The eight hundred was my best event. High school state record.”
I grin. “How come you quit?”
She shrugs, picks up the glass, and moves into the living room to sit in the leather recliner. Avoiding. Interesting. I always assumed she quit because being a college athlete is a lot of fucking work.
“Kota.” I sit across from her on the couch and kick up my feet on the coffee table. “Wifey.”
She glares at the last endearment.
“Come on, tell me. I’ve never heard you talk about it, but you obviously still love to run. Was it too much with school? Bad coach?”
She meets my gaze on my last guess.
“Bad coach?” I repeat.
“Good coach, bad human.”
