My best friend.
“No one,” I say as nonchalantly as I can, even though my insides buzz with anxiety. “Just had to show their agitators what happens when you run your mouth against the Rogues.”
“I know that’s right,” the guy says, clapping. He nods his head, and I return the gesture before continuing to the room where my wife waits for me.
Mywife.
At least, for now.
That thought sends a fresh wave of nausea rolling through my gut. I need to get myself in check. Acting like a petulant child won’t win Mira over or prove that I can be the man she needs. The other guys join me in the hall, laughing and chattering away. We’ve got plans to go out for drinks. Ryder and Lexi want to celebrate Maddox and Isla’s engagement, since they weren’t there when it happened.
“Great game, everyone,” Lexi says when we walk into the room. She high-fives the guys as they pass before throwing herself in Hanson’s arms. “Hey, Handsome.”
All around me, couples embrace. Maddox and Isla, Ryder and Lexi, and the other guys with wives and girlfriends waiting for them. When my eyes find Mira, she’s shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other as she takes in thescene. Then those gorgeous green eyes of hers meet mine, and some of that roiling storm in me calms.
“Hey,” she says softly as she closes the distance between us. She looks more unsure than she ever has when meeting us after a game. Which makes sense, I suppose. Every game before this, she was merely Maddox’s little sister and my roommate. Now? Now, Mira is my secret wife, and she’s lost her equilibrium. “You okay?”
Fuck it.
As I pull her into a hug, a deep sigh gusts from my lips, making her hair move. “I’m fine,” I lie. And I let her go. I don’t want to, but I let her go. Because she asked me to keep this a secret, and if there’s one thing I’m determined to do, it’s keeping my word with Mira. Always. I want to be dependable. I want to be the person she leans on because she knows I’ll never waver or crumble. So, as much as I want to continue holding my wife, I drop my arms and take a slight step back. “Did you have fun tonight?”
Mira is studying me, cataloging every twitch of my muscles and tic of my jaw. She’s not buying my lie, but she lets me keep it. Blowing out a breath, she fists the hem of her jersey—the one with her brother’s name on the back—and nods. “I did. You killed it tonight.” Her lips twist as she tugs the pillowy lower half between her teeth. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you throw so many hits.”
All I can do is shrug. Because the alternative is admitting that her brother made me feel like I’m not good enough for her. His words recalled all the breakup speeches given by ex-girlfriends through college. The alternative is admitting that I’ve never longed for anything as much as I want Mira to choose this marriage and to choose me. And as much as this woman lights my soul on fire, I know we’re not there yet.
“Got tired of listening to their d-men chirp insults every few minutes.”
Mira continues to abuse her lower lip, but she doesn’t call me on my bullshit. Instead, she nods. “Understandable.”
“Everyone ready?” Maddox asks the group.
He’s smiling like a damn lovesick fool, and I love that for him. I need to get my shit under control. Tonight isn’t about me or my feelings. Tonight, we’re celebrating Madds and Isla on our home turf. Letting my hand rest lightly on the small of my wife’s back, I suck in a slow, deep breath to calm my racing heart and gently lead her out of the family room and toward my car.
thirteen
MIRA
Something’s up with Griffin.He’s quiet on the ride to the restaurant, and I don’t miss the frown lines marring his brow. I want to ask him what’s wrong, but I don’t quite know how tobein our relationship since we got drunk and married. Since he told me he wants tostaymarried.
Squirming in my seat, I steal glances at him, my stomach twisting. Griffin played an aggressive game tonight. I’ve never seen him throw so many hits, and even though fights and getting slammed into the boards are a part of the game I grew up watching, I’m surprised by how much it bothered me when it was Griffin taking the hit.
Griffin is my friend. It’s natural to be worried about him. But this went beyond a friendly worry. Which is completely illogical because this marriage is a sham. I agreed to Griffin’s six-month stipulation because the alternative was unthinkable, but that doesn’t make this a real marriage. Neither do a few mind-blowing orgasms or waking up in his arms each morning, despite falling asleep as far away from him as I can get on his king-size mattress.
So why am I so worried?
I’m lost in my thoughts when Griffin pulls up to the valet and helps me out of his car.
“You look beautiful tonight,” Griffin murmurs lowly, his hand lingering on mine. “I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry.”
My gaze shifts to meet his, my cheeks heating. “I’m just wearing jeans and a jersey.”
His eyes smolder, and so do my panties. “You always look beautiful, wifey. But next time, I want you wearing my name on your back.”
“Griffin,” I hiss, scanning the surrounding area to make sure no one overheard him.
My temporary husband sighs deeply, and for a moment, he looks sotired. Tired or frustrated? Whatever it is, he takes a step back, and I immediately miss his warmth. Which is stupid. “No one heard me, Mir. Don’t worry. You won’t be forced to claim me.”
Fuck.The way he says those words has my stomach twisting. “I didn’t mean?—”
