“Thanks. And I won’t hold your allegiance to the home team against you,” Alex joked, letting the guy off the hook.
For the first time since getting knocked out of the Stanley Cup race, he didn’t want to crawl into the nearest bottle of whiskey to drink it all away.
Probably because he’d already reached the bottom of the tequila bottle.
The man grinned, then reached for a piece of paper and a pen. “You think I could get an autograph?”
“Sure.” Alex signed his name on the paper, then tugged Charley, who was looking around the lobby and peering through double doors that led to a small chapel, closer to him, drawing her into the conversation. “Guess you know why we’re here.”
The man smiled, his attention turning to Charley.
No doubt he was curious to see what sort of woman had managed to drag Alex Stone to a Vegas wedding chapel.
That same unfamiliar feeling of jealousy surfaced when the other man’s eyes widened appreciatively.
Alex released Charley’s hand, opting instead to wrap his arm around her waist. It felt like a bigger claim.
The man glanced back at him. “Of course, Mr. Stone. Do you have the marriage license?”
Fuck.
“Actually, we don’t.”
“Forgot about the marriage license.” Charley wiggled out of his grip. “Sounds like we’re outta luck.” She shrugged it off good-naturedly. “Don’t worry. We gave spontaneity the college try.”
Alex smiled at her, perfectly aware it was a wolfish look.
Her eyes widened slightly.
If there was one thing he’d learned during his time in the NHL, it was that money talked.
“Mr.?” Alex prompted.
“Davis. Peter Davis,” the man replied.
“Mr. Davis. My girl, Charley, has her heart set on eloping in your fine city. I promise I can make it worth your while if you could find a way to help us get married tonight. Hockey tickets to the Knights opening game when the season kicks off again. Maybe front row, behind the goal? Or club seats?”
“You could do that?”
Alex nodded. “And, of course, I’m willing to pay for your extra efforts on our behalf. Substantially extra.”
Mr. Davis fell silent for a moment, then said, “Let me make a few calls. In the meantime,” he turned toward an open door behind the counter. “Dolores,” he called out.
An older woman emerged, her eyes lighting up in a way that felt very rehearsed when she saw them.
“Mr. Stone and Charley…”
“Matthews,” Alex supplied.
“Ms. Matthews,” he continued, “have come to get married. I need to make a few phone calls. Perhaps you can see if they need anything else.” Mr. Davis looked back at Alex. “Like rings? Flowers? Pictures? Limo?”
He nodded. “We need all that.”
The man’s eyes lit up. “Very well.”
Mr. Davis nodded at Dolores, who pulled a tray of wedding bands out of the glass cabinet, built into the counter, before he left the lobby, presumably to go to his office.
“Now, dear,” Dolores said to Charley. “What size is your ring finger?”
Charley glanced at him. “Is that something I should know?”
He laughed, figuring his sister knew exactly what size every finger on her hand was. Bella was never without countless rings. Hell, she even had a couple she wore on her thumb.
Alex lifted Charley’s hand, taking in her bare fingers.
Not a single ring.
He liked that.
Meant the one he was about to put there would stand out.
Studying the tray of rings, he pointed to a thick gold band. “That one’s pretty.”
“That one’s expensive,” Charley murmured. “Maybe we should downsize considering…” She launched into pig Latin. “It’syay ustjay ayay okejay.”
Their hockey team had perfected the use of pig Latin when they were all freshmen and sophomores in high school. Alex hadn’t used it since then, but damn if he couldn’t understand every word she’d just said.
“I never skimp on my jokes. Oryay adventuresyay.” He pointed to the expensive one again. “It’s that one.”
Dolores measured Charley’s finger, then found the appropriate size. “That’s a wonderful choice.”
“And I’ll have that one,” he said, pointing to the tray again. “Size ten.”
“You know your ring size?” Charley asked.
“Yeah.”
His resigned tone must have given him away, reminded her that he’d been pretty damn close to getting a Stanley Cup ring. Looked like he’d be using that finger for a different ring tonight.
“Oops,” she said, giving him the most adorable, regretful grin.
Dolores walked them through the photography packages, then set up a stretch limo—complete with champagne—to take them on a nighttime drive through the city before dropping them back off at the hotel.
“Now then…the bouquet,” Dolores said. “We keep quite a few here. They’re fresh-cut flowers that are brought in daily. I have one with pink roses that’s absolutely beautiful.”
Alex remembered Charley turning her nose up at the idea of carrying what she called “froufrou” flowers. She didn’t strike him as a roses kind of woman.
“What’s your favorite flower?” he asked her.
“Um…daisies?”
“Are you asking me if that’s your favorite or telling me?”
She shot him an annoyed look. “Daisies,” she repeated with more assurance.
“You have any bouquets with daisies in them?”
Dolores nodded. “Of course. If you don’t mind waiting here, I’ll get the rings and bouquet ready. Then, once Mr. Davis returns, we can begin.” She stepped through the back door.
“Are we seriously doing th—” she started.
Alex kissed her. A long, openmouthed one with a lot of tongue.
Charley might not be all in on the wedding idea yet, but she was sure as fuck down with the kissing.
He pulled away after a minute, reluctantly.
Charley was a good kisser.
“We’re getting married.”
She sighed. “This is going to be a huge mess to fix come tomorrow.”
“No. It won’t.”
“Alex. If Mr. Davis gets that license, we will legally be married. That means we’ll have to legally undo it.”
He shrugged. “I have a great lawyer.” Colm Collins, Padraig’s twin brother, was one of his closest friends. He didn’t doubt for a minute Colm could extract him from this…eventually.
She laughed. “Jesus. Doesn’t that seem like a lot of hassle, not to mention money, to go through just for a night of impulsive fun.”
“If that was what this was about, we wouldn’t be here.”
Charley frowned. “Then what’s it about?” Before he could answer, Charley did. “This is because of Bella, isn’t it? Because of what she said about you never falling in love. Believe me, Alex, this isn’t going to change anything as far as—”
“That’s not it either,” he interrupted, though in truth, he wasn’t sure that was entirely true.
Until Bella called him out on it, it hadn’t really occurred to him that he’d been putting love into the same bucket as marriage, tossing them both aside.