“But I can’t have sex.”
“Says who?” she counters, placing the palm of her free hand on the breast of my jacket. “I really want my brother to win another Cup. So…”
“Don’t say it, Tenley.”
“So if?—”
“Don’t say it,” I warn again, my voice firm and foreboding.
“So if…” she starts again, like the daredevil nightmare she is, unfazed by common sense. “If I have to let you fuck your wife for a W, I’ll damn well let you do it.”
“You know I can’t.”
“I da—” I give her a little jerk toward me to stop her mid-sentence. Our bodies are pressed together now.
“I’ve taken every dare you’ve ever made and I’m not about to stop.”
“I. Dare. You,” Tenley whispers. “I dare you to fuck your wife.”
“Nash!” Gabby’s voice is like ice water pouring down from the ceiling above us.
We both jump apart and Tenley quickly picks up her jacket and continues toward my car as I subtly adjust the front of my pants and turn to Gabby. She is walking our way from the arena door. She's in her work wear, a Quake tracksuit and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail under a Quake hat. "X-Ray, Westwood?"
“I was just telling Tenley I have to get it tomorrow.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “I saw you limping as you left.”
“I promise tomorrow. It’s only gotten bad again now,” I say, kind of lying just a little bit. It hurt pretty bad that last game in Seattle.
“If you don’t get it done tomorrow, I’m telling Coach he should bench you.”
Shit. “I will get it done.”
She nods. “Have a good night.”
I get to the car and Tenley is leaning against the passenger side. “You hurt?”
“I tweaked something in my leg. Not serious but she doesn’t want it to get serious,” I explain, hitting the fob to unlock the car. “And I’ve been neglecting it.”
“She’s a tough one. I like her.”
“She is.” I nod.
Once we’re both inside the car Tenley says, “I’m surprised you aren’t snarky with her like you are with me. Since she’s a strong, independent woman and all.”
“Nagging me and threatening me is her job.”
“It’s mine too, Hubster,” Tenley remarks as she clips her seatbelt. “I’m your wife.”
“You are going to be the death of me.”
"Also my job," Tenley replies snarkily, and even I can't help but smile at that.
Chapter 15
Tenley
Musica's, the small beach bar that the team loves to claim as their own, is packed with hockey players. More than half the team came out for a quick celebration because Crew wouldn't take no for an answer. Plastic baskets with greasy paper liners are piled with desecrated chicken wing bones. Tate has Dylan on his shoulders while Mallory and Liv share a basket of deep-fried pickles beside him. Next to Liv, Crew wipes his brow with a napkin and swigs his beer, still sweating from his inferno sauce wings. Grady is at the bar getting another round with Landon. Nash is beside me, nose buried in his phone, and his half-finished basket of teriyaki wings in front of him and a non-alcoholic beer sweating puddles on the nicked wood tabletop. He keeps checking his phone for the time.
