“Why don’t you take the bed tonight? You’ll need a good night’s rest for your game tomorrow.” It’s their first pregame, which Payton explained didn’t count toward their standings but did help their coaches evaluate the team and the rookies and helped get the fans excited about the new season, especially in Sarabella.
“I’m fine.” He roughs out.
I grab my pillow and walk around the bed to his side. Payton’s sprawled on his back with one muscular arm swung over his forehead, revealing part of his bare chest.
And there’s enough moonlight seeping into the room for me to notice. “Swap with me.”
He sighs. “Lily, I already feel like a proper git as it is. That would just make it worse.”
Damn his chivalrous nature. Time to switch tactics.
“Then let’s share the bed.” I gesture toward the king-sized bed that’s remained undisturbed on one side. “There’s plenty of room. Unless you don’t think you can handle it, that is.”
I know I’m probably playing a little dirty here, but challenging him seems to be the best way to stop his bullheadedness so he can consider an alternate solution.
He flings his arm down. “I’m exhausted enough to throw a bit of caution to the wind.” He sits up, making the muscles on his abdomen tighten in a very appealing way, then gathers his pillow and blanket as he stands. “But I’ll sleep on top of the bedcovers.”
I return to my side of the bed. “Whatever works for you, big guy.”
“We’re back to that nickname again?” He sighsthrough his words.
“Still waiting for you to pick out mine, husband.” I find a little humor always helps diffuse a potentially awkward situation.
Payton positions himself on the bed—on top of the navy comforter—then spreads out his blanket to settle over his feet and lies back with a sigh that shifts into a groan of relief. “Guess I’ll sleep on that too, wife.”
Within seconds, my smile widens at the sound of his soft snore.
After driving Payton to the arena this morning and running surveillance for a few hours until Del took over, I took a quick jog before returning to the apartment to clean up for the game tonight. While getting dressed, I found one of his jerseys—notably without the ‘A’—hanging in front of my clothes with a note pinned to it that pushed an odd flutter through my stomach.
For tonight. To keep things believable.
My phone buzzes with a text. I pick it up, fully expecting an update from Del to find Payton is now texting me.
Payton: Left you something in the closet.
Lily: I just noticed.
Payton: Figured you’d need it for the game.
I may not be a sports fanatic, but I’m fully aware of what wearing the jersey means under normal conditions. Ours is far from normal.
Lily: It’s missing a letter.
Payton: Uh oh. Is that grounds for a divorce?
Lily: Only if I get sent to the penalty box.
Payton: Hmm, that could be interesting.
I think he’s flirting with me. And with a little innuendo, I might add.
As much as I’m looking forward to seeing Payton play, I’m not excited about posing as the doting wife, who’s eager about watching her husband skate around an ice rink and whack a puck into the net for the next three hours. But duty calls.
A strong sense of anticipation accompanies me to the game tonight. I’ve been to plenty of stadiums, but never a hockey arena. I shift my shoulders in the oversized jersey as I make my way to the area on the seating diagram Payton texted me, explaining this was where the WAGs—wives and girlfriends—sat during the games.
As I get closer, I spot Sophie’s bright pink hair band first. A swatch of pink peeks out above the collar of her jersey, which has “Jameson” across the back. She wore a pink and white polka dot dress to the party with matching pink shoes, so I’ll assume she’s a pink freak. I kind of like that—the way she wears her passion boldly. And the blonde woman sitting next to her has Ethan’s last name, so that must be Mia.
Phone in hand, I shoot off a text to Del.
