Of all things I’d done in the last fifteen minutes since waking up in a hungover fog, Gabby spitting coffee on me was the most minor.
Still, her cheeks burned a hot pink and she apologized, scrambling to search for a towel or something to clean me off. And as she did, repeating I’m so sorry on a ridiculous loop, the sight of her in my clothes distracted me from the problem at hand.
We’d gotten married.
Worse, there were viral images of us leaving a chapel. Some TikTok creator had managed to catch us on video, Gabby’s ass slung over my shoulder, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a manila envelope in the other.
My phone had died at some point during the night but as soon as I turned it on, it went off like a rocket, beeping and buzzing all over the place until I finally unlocked it and started scrolling through the messages.
Every single text notification tightened my chest. This was bad. Really bad. Everyone was freaking out. My coach, my teammates. And then my heart dropped to the floor.
Two words, really, from the team’s manager. “Morality clause.”
I’d scrubbed my hand through my hair and cursed until those words blurred together. How in the hell could I stay married to a woman I barely knew? How could I divorce her? Two marriages… two divorces in less than a year? What kind of guy did that make me look like?
Not a good one, in anyone’s eyes, especially my own.
“You what?” Gabby asked, and it hadn’t occurred to me she’d dropped to her knees in front of me, swiping coffee splatter off my tile.
Like I gave a shit about coffee stains.
Gabby. On her knees. All that hair for me to fist and hold on to, those eyes wide with wonder and her cheeks still flushed.
She looked torn up from a long night, in my clothes, hair a frazzled mess…
Looking like sin on a platter, ready for me, waiting… ready.
Not good. Not good at all, asshole.
“You have to be joking.” Her light brown eyes blinked, the color of caramel that made my thoughts short circuit and sizzle.
Enough. If only I could remember something about last night, but hell, the last thing I remembered was sucking down those long-neck drinks and practically falling into the Flamingo casino in search of a bathroom. Gabby was right. After that, everything was hazy.
We needed to figure this out. And I couldn’t do that if my dick got hard while she was on her knees, showing exactly how attracted I was to her.
I barked out a laugh and she froze. “I need a minute,” I muttered and headed toward the butler’s pantry. I was losing my mind. Had to be.
Was it possible to have a mid-life crisis heading into your late twenties? Maybe one of the hits I took into the boards last night scrambled my ability to make decent decisions.
I filled my coffee, grabbed another for her in case she needed a refill and once both were full, I found Gabby leaning against the island. Hands to her head, elbows on the counter. Her ass jutted out, filling out the backside of my pajama pants I’d tossed her way.
As I stepped into the kitchen, I slid her fresh cup onto the counter and brought mine to my mouth. “We need to talk.”
She was already shaking her head, not bothering a glance at either of her coffee cups. “We… we seriously got married?”
“Yeah. My phone’s freaking the hell out, so I turned it off again, but some pics were taken and have gone viral. Listen—”
“No. We can’t. There’s no way. I mean, the rings were a joke, right? Because we didn’t…” She slapped her hands to the counter, straightened her arms. The green hue to her skin had faded, the flush now back, but there was something about the way her golden eyes sparked with a fire that froze me to my spot and made it difficult to suck in a breath.
God, she was beautiful.
“We did.” I turned my phone back on. “Like I said, there’re photos. And a video—”
“Video?”
“Yeah. Someone put it on TikTok. Tagged my team.”
There was a flash of skin and then my phone disappeared from my hand and was in hers. Her body pressed to my side, her fingers frantically punching at my phone.
“Holy shit,” she gasped, one hand to her mouth, covering it as the video came to life and there we were.
Me. Wearing the same black suit I’d had on when I met up with everyone for dinner. Only my profile was visible but it was clear it was me. And then there was Gabby, thrown over my shoulder. Her black hair bounced through the air as I readjusted my hold, one arm raised to flag down a cab and then my hand was at her ass, spanking it playfully while she kicked her feet in the air. Petals from the flowers in her hand fluttered to the porn card littered street and she waved the envelope in hand while shouting something we couldn’t hear over the screen’s music singing “This is the way we live…”
“Shit. This is bad,” she said, the words falling from her like someone was pulling on them. She swung my phone in my direction and I took it, almost afraid to get too close to her.
Gabby apparently had a fire inside of her and that fuse was set.
She could blow at any moment and I figured it could go either way. Either find this the most hilarious adventure she’d ever been on or tear the house apart in her anger.
“Listen, Gabs. We need to talk about this.”
“Does Garrett know?”
“I have about a hundred texts but I didn’t see his name, and he hasn’t called, so I don’t know.”
“Shit.” She shoved her hands through her hair, flinching as she scraped through tangles and then slammed her hands back to the counter. “We have to fix this.”
“We will.” And we would… “But I can’t yet.”
Her head lifted, slow, and that fuse lit earlier sparked hotter. “Excuse me?”
God, she was pretty. Even growing pissed at me, slightly hungover, those full lips of hers pressed into a frown, my dick noticed all of it. Liked all of it. My chest heated as she glared at me with that questioning look.
“I have a morality clause in my contract. And honestly, I don’t think it’d be an issue any other time, but we just won the Stanley Cup last night. We have the parade in a few days. Anything that could bring attention to the team right now in any kind of negative light could mean I face suspension, hefty fines. I could lose my endorsements…” The text from the team’s manager wasn’t clear or specific. The threat alone was enough to have me panicking. “Please. Can we just… give this some time? A few weeks? Let the dust settle and then we can handle this, but if we rush off to lawyers and a courthouse today or while the celebrations are going on, this could be bad. For me and my team.”
I clung to the small hope she wouldn’t want the team embarrassed since her brother was on it.
I closed my eyes and dropped my head. One night and it was ridiculous how something like this could screw everything up for me.
“If we wait,” I continued. “It wouldn’t be seen as a drunken mistake, or something foolish and embarrassing, for either of us. It could just be… it didn’t work out. I have endorsements, and I help sponsor a youth baseball league. If people get the wrong idea about this, or the right one, I guess, but think it’s wrong, I could lose a lot of that. And the league’s support with those kids. Please?”