The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3) - Odette Stone Page 0,24

how bits of lace could make me feel so powerful and strong, but they did.

“How are you doing?” The sales clerk knocked on the door.

I opened the door. “I want this one.”

“Oh my.” Her eyes widened. “Yes.”

“This makes me feel good.”

Her eyes glinted. “You will knock his socks off. Want to blow him away?”

Mica would never see me in these outfits, but I wanted to try more things like this on. Just to feel as good as this lacy bit of nothing made me feel. I needed that pick-me-up. Even if it was only for a moment. “Yes.”

“Be right back.”

Every outfit she brought back got more and more racy, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from trying them on. Lacy red, sheer pink, midnight black, navy blue, hot pink, virginal white. See-through, feathers, lace, ribbons, bows. They were all ridiculously naughty and completely unnecessary, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from preening in front of the mirror in them.

“What do you think?”

It was a ridiculous extravagance and would serve no purpose other than to make me feel good, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from saying the words, “I’ll take them all.”

“You will make that man out there very happy.” She winked before disappearing with them all.

I wouldn’t, because he would never see me wear any of it, but it would make me happy.

Every corner of his Porsche was piled high with shopping bags.

I almost had a conniption when I realized how many clothes I had bought. My face flushed hotly as I thought about how much of his money I had just spent. “I’m so sorry. We need to take some of this back.”

He didn’t seem fazed as he started the car. “You needed clothes.”

“Not this many!”

He glanced at me. “You’re going to be my wife for a year. You need to look the part.”

Fake wife. I stared, unseeing, through the windshield. We had done little talking since the night he had driven me home from the bar. I wondered if maybe we should discuss some logistics about what his expectations would be.

“Could we talk about that?”

He drove for a block and then glanced at me. “About what?”

“I am wondering what you expect around all of this. How do you see this working?”

“I want you to quit your bar job.”

I turned and looked at his beautiful profile. I hated my bar job. “You do?”

“It’ll look bad if my new wife works two full-time jobs. Most of my teammates’ wives don’t even work.”

I told myself that since he was paying me a hell of a lot of money to play the part of his loving wife, I didn’t have much say. I felt no regret as I agreed to his request. “Okay. Anything else?”

He shifted gears. “I want you to come to all my home games.”

“All of them?” I worked to keep the dismay out of my voice.

“All the wives, except the ones with little kids, show up to all the games.”

I hated hockey and everything about the game, but he made a good point. We’d draw the least attention to ourselves if I started acting like the other hockey wives. “Okay.”

“You’ll need to attend all the team events that we have. And there are a few charity galas and more formal events you will need to attend with me.”

I tried to imagine being out in public with Mica as his wife, but I couldn’t quite process that. “Sure. Anything else?”

He went silent for another block. “I’m not good at sharing my space.”

I had no idea what that meant, but I appreciated him telling me that. I decided that I would do everything possible to stay out of his hair when we were both at his home. “I can respect that.”

He nodded, satisfied. “Krista is going to book our wedding at city hall. It makes sense to do this before they lift my suspension.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll buy our rings.”

I appreciated how clinical he was about discussing this. There were no gray areas about this arrangement. This was a mere formality to help his career. But the fact that my first marriage was a formal business arrangement made me feel pathetic.

This is just a high-paid acting job. This isn’t a real marriage.

Mica helped me carry my bags into the house but didn’t take off his shoes.

“I’m going to get some groceries.”

I felt like a badly-behaved house guest. “Want some help?”

“I’m good.”

He left, and I dragged all the clothing bags into my bedroom. As I dug through the bags, the very