Page 51 of Lucky Puck

“Your wife—right.” He nods, looking uncomfortable. Then he whispers, “It’s true?”

I nod, not smiling because this disbelief is getting old. People in Vegas had no problem at all believing the lie.

Ax snorts. “You are one crazy bastard.” Then he turns to Bianca and has the good sense to look apologetic. “No offense, ma’am.”

She doesn’t roll her eyes, but I can tell she’s holding back.

“None taken. It’s sudden and yes, crazy, and not like me at all, but⁠—”

I’m not sure what she’s going to say, so I step in. “But I swept her off her feet, charmed her into taking the plunge because you only live once, right, sugar plum?” I wrap an arm around her.

She shout whispers to the side of my neck where I feel her hot breath fanning the flames in my already simmering blood and not to mention fueling naughty ideas that swirl in my mind, which is always up to no good.

“I can’t believe you’re lying to your roommate. Next you’ll be lying to your parents and⁠—”

“Don’t worry, sugar, we’ll clear it all up in due time.” I lower my voice as I whisper in between nibbles of her tender earlobe, enjoying her little shiver and the gooseflesh that appears in that delicate place on her neck behind her ear. “But let’s have a bit of fun until then.”

Panic fills her eyes for a flash as she meets my gaze, and then she looks away, pulling from my side. I almost miss the words she mutters. “I don’t know if I can last four weeks of this.”

I’m not sure what she means by her words, but I choose to think she’s referring to her inability to resist my charms.

Ax has disappeared to the kitchen and comes back with some glasses and a bottle of what looks like champagne.

“What the hell, Ax?”

“I was planning a celebration for your All-Star ass, figuring you’d kill it at the game, but, well, that didn’t happen. No matter, this is better. We’ll toast your newlywed ass—I mean⁠—”

Bianca puts her hands up. “No worries. I know what you mean. I grew up with two brothers. We were a hockey family.”

“You played?” My heart does a double-take in unnecessary excitement at the possibility.

Chapter Twenty-Two

BIANCA

Brody’s eyes light up.

“No. Not me.” I heat up with embarrassment as I see his let-down, barely resisting the urge to cover my no-doubt pink cheeks. “I was the team manager,” I mumble.

“My sister plays hockey, and I thought you might—never mind.”

“Right.” I know all about his sister, Kara. She’s four years older than him, a raven-haired beauty with the same startling blue eyes as Brody, and now plays hockey for the WPHA in Boston, the Fleet. She’s a star player, and according to their hometown press, she used to kick his pants in hockey growing up.

Axton waves us over to the kitchen island and sets out three glasses and a cold bottle of Moet.

“Wow,” I say.

“I can’t drink, Ax. Sorry. I’ll stick to this.” Brody lifts the sports drink from the counter and takes a swig. “But you two go ahead.”

I feel obligated to have some, even if champagne is my least favorite drink in the world. I’ve long since learned to go with the flow in my role at dinners and events, accepting whatever the hostess has to offer, and I channel that professionally curated grace now.

Axton pops the cork like a pro. “I worked as a server in the summers when I was in college my first two years.” He grins, then slides his glance to Brody. “Some of us didn’t get the big scholarships to cover all our expenses. Or any scholarship my freshman year.”

He pours me a glass expertly. “It’s impressive that you worked your way from humble beginnings to where you are—playing in the NHL with the Portsmouth Whalers. I know how it is to have to work hard and against the odds for every accomplishment.”

He grins and clinks my glass, and we have a moment toasting our underdog wins.

Brody clears his throat. “Hello. I worked hard too. Damn hard.”