PAYTON
I’ve never been a fan of innuendos. And Luke’s was fairly clear. I’m sure it comes with the newlywed territory, which would be fine if that’s what Lily and I actually were. I reach for her suitcase, fully planning to take her bag to the spare room, then stop as the full ramification of our situation slams me like an opponent gone rogue, flying down the ice in a breakaway.
I turn back around to face Lily. “I…did not think this through.”
Her lips purse together. “No, you didn’t. Which room is yours?”
“Mine?”
She rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, Payton, yours. I certainly can’t sleep on the couch.”
“Of course not. I will.”
Brows pinched, she studies me. “Don’t you think that would raise questions with Luke?”
I blink and shake my head. “Right. Of course. I guess I’m struggling with the lies more than I originally thought.”
Her expression softens as she takes a step closer to me. “You could just tell everyone the truth. Would certainly make things easier.”
For a moment, I consider her suggestion. Besides simply loving the game, I pursued a career in hockey to build my own life. Not something defined—or dictated—by my familial connections to royalty. I simply wanted to be a regular bloke.
Now, in light of this new title of heir apparent, I feel like I’m fighting to hold onto my dream. If I tell Luke and the rest of the team the truth, that will change the whole dynamics of what I’ve worked so hard to put in place—my anonymity and autonomy.
I shake my head. “No, let’s stick to the plan.”
“You mean the original plan you never intended to keep?”
Just enough sarcasm to soften the harsh reality. “Right, again. Sorry about that.” I gesture to the first door. “That’s my room there.”
She darts off with her suitcase in tow.
I follow her into the room, then divert to the dresser. She’ll need places to put her clothing, so I start opening drawers on one side and sweeping items out by the armful.
“Payton, what are you doing?”
A pair of balled socks falls from my arms to the floor, as if to punctuate the moment. “Making room for your things.”
“That’s unnecessary. I’m used to living out of a suitcase. I’ll stow it in your closet or under the bed to keep it out of sight.”
I glance at the empty drawer. “I’ll just dump these over here for now and show you the wardrobe.” I drop the pile of clothes onto the bed and stride to the generous walk-in. “There’s plenty of room in there.”
Lily stops next to me. Shelves cover a small section to the left, then two levels of hanging bars extend to the back. On the opposite side, the same thing but instead of shelves, shoe cubbies fill the space.
“That’s quite a closet.” She seems surprised.
My clothes only take up half the space. “One of the highlighted features of the place. Probably intended for couples. Real couples, that is.” I try to inject some humor into my tone. My wardrobe feels small with her musky vanilla scent wreaking havoc with my senses.
When she swivels her head to look around, I find myself fascinated with the swish of her ponytail and the delicate curve of her neck, reminiscent of one of the porcelain ballerina figurines my sister likes to collect.
That is not something I should be noticing right now. This is a business arrangement and nothing more. However, Lily is unlike any woman I’ve ever met. She’s edgy yet reserved. Assertive when necessary, yet inquisitive without being intrusive. And she has a mind that’d put a top-tier coach’s playbook to shame. Having her in my bedroom may prove to be more of a challenge than I expected.
She unzips the top of her suitcase and tugs out a small zipper case. “Bathroom?”
I probably look like a skittish pup the way I jerk myself back to reality, dart toward the loo, and push open the door. “Plenty of vanity space, so feel free to spread out. And towels are in the linen cupboard, amongst other things. Make yourself at home.”
A slight blush creeps up her cheeks. Does she react to all men like that? Or just me? And why am I hoping it’s the latter?
Brilliant. Could I sound any more like a prize idiot? I can’t recall being this rattled before. Last season, an enforcer on our opponent’s team decided to target me for the entire second period because I skated into their goalie during a shot on goal. The lot of us fell like dominos as one of their blokes tried to block me, and we wound up a tangled mess in the crease. After that, I had to constantly watch my back to avoid getting battered into the boards. But even that didn’t unsettle me asmuch as Lily does.
