Offside Bride (Toronto Titans #2)

4. Maggie

4

MAGGIE

T he Sud-O-Rama car wash isn’t the only job I’ve gotten fired from, but this is the first time I’ve been called “maliciously compliant.”

Whatever. I hated that job anyway. At least the day couldn’t get any worse. Right?

Unfortunately, my savings is wearing thin, and I do need to find my own place soon. Very soon.

Although Emily would never say it, the last thing a newlywed couple needs is a third wheel hanging around their house. Yesterday, both her and Owen told me I can stay as long as I need. But after walking in on them when I got up in the middle of the night for a snack, well, let’s just say I ain’t never gonna use that kitchen island again in my life.

I suppose I could try to sell more jewelry on Esty, especially since my dream of becoming a novelist isn’t working out for me.

Sigh .

I honestly thought I’d be somebody by now. Like, not a household name or anything—I don’t expect to be the next Nora Roberts. But I’d very much like to make a simple living as a writer. Right now, I can’t even sell enough books to support my Starbucks habit.

I do some quick girl math in my head. Since fifty percent of my jewelry revenue goes to a foster children’s non-profit I trust, I’d have to sell… two thousand percent more than I am now. That’s a heckuvalot of beaded toilet paper earrings and gothic anatomical necklaces.

Stepping into the massive foyer of Emily and Owen’s house, I drop my keys in the fancy bowl they keep by the door. I make a beeline for the spare bedroom I currently occupy with the intention of checking on my polymer clay inventory. It’s been a while since I made jewelry, and I might be low on supplies.

“Oh yay, Maggie you’re here!” Emily intercepts me at the foot of the stairs, chirping her greeting as if she didn’t see me a mere two hours ago. “I’m so glad to see you. I need to ask you something.”

She yanks me by the arm and drags me toward the kitchen. That kitchen. I give the island counter the side-eye as we walk in.

“I made sugar cookies,” she says, offering me an entire plate.

“Did you roll out the dough on the counter?” I ask skeptically.

She just looks at me confused. “It’s quartz, Maggie.”

So that means yes.

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Oh.” She looks positively crestfallen. “How about some iced coffee?”

Now that I can get on board with. “Extra caramel?”

“Of course.”

She throws together two iced coffees in mason jars, adds whipped cream and glass straws, and we take them to the backyard since it’s such a beautiful day.

We sit on lounge chairs overlooking the pool, sipping in companionable silence until our drinks are half gone. I figure now is as good a time as any to tell her I was fired.

“So,” I start. “You’ll never guess what happened to me today.”

Her eyes go wide, and she stutters, “Uh…oh. You heard?”

“Heard? Heard what?” Obviously she has some kind of news other than my jobless situation.

I’m trying to decipher if it’s good or bad when Owen bursts through the rear patio doors and rushes over to us. “Did you tell her?”

He’s followed closely by Griffin, his team’s goalie, and Hendrix, the other guy on his team that skates around the ice like a hotshot. I don’t know what position he plays, and I probably wouldn’t understand it if they told me. So I just file that information under “things I don’t need to know at this time” and smile.

Then, as if my heart can’t take any more of a beating today, out walks Sawyer, slow and casual, deliberately hanging back by the pergola. He’s wearing low-slung jeans and a V-neck T-shirt with some kind of leather necklace hiding underneath.

I hate that he looks so bleeping delicious. I hate that I’d rather have him than this caramel iced coffee for my afternoon delight. I hate that I’m even entertaining the thought when I should be questioning what Owen just said.

Did you tell her?

Maybe he’s talking about someone else. Or maybe they found me an affordable apartment and can’t wait to tell me about it.

Emily throws a piece of ice at him. “Go away. We just sat down.”

“You haven’t told her yet?” he says.

“Tell me what?” I ask. “Is there a new apartment listing?”

Emily and Owen swear by their real estate agent. He found them this amazing house in the Bridle Path neighborhood.

When my loser roommates got us evicted, Owen asked his agent to help me find a place of my own. He’s a nice guy, he really is. But all the apartments are just slightly over my price range. Lord knows the commission can’t be great for him. I think he’s just doing a favor for Emily and Owen because the sale of this house got him a new Cadillac.

Owen and Emily exchange a look, which the other three hockey players seem to be in on as well. They’re all exchanging knowing glances. It’s making me itchy.

“Well…” Emily says. “I guess you could put it that way.”

Sawyer scoffs from his place leaning on the wood column of the pergola. His arms are crossed, and he’s looking everywhere but in my direction.

“I’m sorry, but what is he doing here?” I say. I understand he might want to hang out with Owen and the guys, but it’s a big house. Heck, it’s a big yard. Do they really have to hover over us and ruin caramel iced coffee time?

Hendrix points a finger at Griffin and blurts, “It’s his fault.”

“Can you guys please just leave us alone for five minutes?” Emily cries. “There’s Molson in the fridge.”

Owen jerks his chin to his friends, and they all go back into the house.

“And cookies,” I say to their retreating backs. “Make sure you eat all the cookies.”

Emily pulls a face. “Are you on a diet?”

I snort. “No.”

“Then why are you trying to get them to polish off the cookies? Sugar cookies are your favorite. I can hide them from sight if you don’t want the temptation.”

I let out a half laugh. “Believe me, I’m not tempted.”

Not by the cookies, anyway.

“So,” she says. “You were about to tell me what happened to you today?”

“No, no. What was that all about? Owen and the guys? What do you need to tell me?”

Emily sets her mason jar on the side table and bites her lip.

“Spill it,” I say.

“Okay, okay.” She holds up both palms. “First of all, I want you to know I love you and love having you here—and Owen feels the same. So you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

I’m starting to get a headache already because nobody starts a conversation like that and it not be bad news.

“I put in an application on a studio just yesterday,” I say. “You don’t need to worry about me for much longer.”

“Oh, it’s not that,” she says quickly. “We love having you here.”

“No you don’t, hun. Let’s be honest.”

“I am being honest. I’ve always thought it would be fun if we were roommates. But you were stuck in that crappy lease…”

“Emily, this is not a roommate situation, and we both know it. Also, no amount of bleach will entice me to use your kitchen again. No offense.”

She blinks, then opens her mouth to say something about that but thinks better of it. I’m not sure she gets me, but I’d rather not have that discussion right now.

“Anyway,” she says. “Have you been on social media lately?”

I wave my arm. “I’m mad at socials right now.”

“Why?”

“The algo hates me. Never mind that. What was Hendrix talking about when he said it’s Griffin’s fault? What exactly is Griffin’s fault, and why does it concern me?”

She sighs really big. “Okay. I’m going to just say it. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Griffin may have…accidentally said something to the press. And…”

Dramatic pause.

“And?” I coax.

“And…nowtheythinkyou’remarriedtoSawyer.”

“What?!”

“Whew! I’m glad I got that off my chest.”

“Griffin told the press I’m married to Sawyer? What the heck, Emily?”

“It was an accident.”

“In what universe is that an accident? Is this a joke? This is a joke, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid not.”

I laugh anyway. “Well, that’s stupid.”

Just then the guys burst outside. Hendrix has the plate of cookies and a beer.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Griffin says. “I thought they were asking about Owen and Emily. It was loud and I couldn’t hear the question very well.”

“And it just escalated from there.” Owen supplies.

Hendrix bites into a cookie and laughs. Crumbs spill to the ground.

Griffin approaches me and takes a seat on the edge of one of the lounge chairs. Hendrix and Owen sit down at the small table shaded by an umbrella. Owen sets down his beer, stiff backed and rubbing the bridge of his nose, while Hendrix leans back enjoying the show. He takes a swig of his beer and crosses his ankle over his knee. He’s the picture of ease and breezy abandon.

Sawyer stands a few feet away, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s wearing the biggest scowl imaginable.

Honestly, I don’t blame him.

“Can somebody please tell me what’s going on?” I cry.

Emily places a hand on my knee. “Okay. Remember the bar fight the other day?”

“How could I forget?” My eyes dart to Sawyer’s for a second, and his jaw clenches.

“Well,” she continues. “Somebody recorded the whole thing on their phone, and it kinda went viral.”

“So?” I say. “I mean, I feel bad about the whole thing, but it wasn’t entirely our fault. Rugby fans are a little nuts.”

“They’re crazier than hockey fans,” Hendrix chimes in with a mouthful of cookie.

“That they are,” Owen agrees.

“So how did it go from bar brawl to married to the playboy?” I ask, a little annoyed but mostly curious and amused.

“I was at a charity event,” says Griffin. “And reporters were asking all sorts of questions. Mostly about our hopes for the next season. Usual stuff. But then one of them asked about the bar fight. Of course I wasn’t there, so who knows why she asked me. All I knew was what Owen had told me—that a fight broke out, you and Sawyer seemed to sneak away somehow, and he waited it out with Emily under a table where he could protect her from all the things flying everywhere.”

“Yeah, that’s what they were doing under the table,” I say under my breath.

“Hang on. This is the funny part,” Hendrix says, having a jolly, old time.

I sigh. All I want to do is take a nap and then figure out how I’m going to make enough money to move out. But I suppose there’s a reason these guys are all here, although I’m pretty sure they can clean up this mess on their own. “Okay. I’m listening. What’s the funny part?”

“In my defense,” says Griffin. “There was a rock band playing at the charity event, and I could barely hear the questions.”

“Basically, he thought they were asking about me and Emily,” Owen says. “Not Sawyer.”

“And the only thing I said was that he was just trying to protect his wife. That’s it.”

“And the press ran with it,” Emily supplies. “Paired with the viral video, now your picture is all over social media and the sports section of the Toronto Herald.”

“And they think I’m married to this clown?” I scoff.

My eyes catch a glance at Sawyer for half a second, and I notice his jaw twitch before I look away.

“Everyone does,” Owen says. “Even the owner of the Titans. Even the coaches.”

“Welp,” I say, getting up from the lounge chair. “This was fun. But I gotta do some stuff now, so…”

I’m not about to tell half the hockey team I was just fired from my dead-end job, so I keep it vague. I’ll talk to Emily about that later.

“The thing is,” says Owen. “We all talked about it. And we kind of think you both should go along with it.”

‘You both’ meaning me and Sawyer. And since there is no me and Sawyer, that would be a hard no.

“You all talked about it?” I say, swinging my finger at everyone present.

“Not me,” Sawyer says. His voice crackles, like staying silent for so long made his throat crusty or something. I find attributing images like crusty throat to Sawyer really helps repel the stupid attraction that creeps up whenever he’s near. Also, when he’s not near. But that’s another issue entirely.

“I’m not on board with this,” he says.

I shrug and look at Griffin. “Just fix it. Make a statement that you were talking about Owen and Emily and that Sawyer is definitely not married. Considering he’s such a man-ho, the internet will believe you.”

“Really?” Sawyer snaps. “Man-ho?”

“You wanna go there?” I counter, throwing him a hard stare.

“Hannah thinks it’s a good idea,” says Owen.

“Who’s Hannah?” I grumble.

“The team’s social media manager,” Emily supplies.

“Oh then, if Hannah thinks it a good idea, let’s go. Where do I sign up?”

“The only reason Hannah is involved is because Sawyer’s agent dragged her into this,” Hendrix says casually. “The guy’s a prick if you ask me.”

“He is not a…” Sawyer sighs. “He’s been with me since I was in high school. He’s just…ambitious.”

“I don’t like his face.”

“That’s no reason not to like someone,” Griffin says.

“He has a douche face,” continues Hendrix. “A douchy-douche face. And that mole!”

“Aaaanyway…He wants Sawyer to lean into the whole marriage thing, so he can keep his endorsements,” Emily explains gently. “Did you know his picture is on a cereal box? Because I didn’t. And I know cereal boxes.”

Unfortunately, I did know that snippet of information. Nutty Morning used to be my favorite cereal. Now I must avoid it at all costs. Dang it.

I give Sawyer a fake salute. “Good luck to you, bud. Maybe you can find some puck bunny to marry your sorry ass. I’m out.”

“The thing is,” Owen says. “Someone got nosy and found out your name using facial recognition. It’s out there now.”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” I ask.

Griffin pipes in. “Sawyer’s agent, and Hannah, think you two should…”

“Should what?”

“This is stupid,” Sawyer groans.

“You’re stupid,” Hendrix says back.

“Your face is stupid,” Sawyer grunts.

“Boys!” Emily cries. Then under her breath, “Seriously, it’s like a middle school playground sometimes.”

“So let me get this straight,” I say. “Just because bruiser over here gets in too many fights, his agent thinks he can clean up his image by pretending he’s Mister Wholesome Husband all of a sudden? And I drew the wife straw.”

“In a nutshell, yeah,” Hendrix says before taking another swig of his beer.

“Would you like some popcorn to go with that?” I say to him. “Maybe some 3-D glasses?”

“I’m good,” he says and swipes another cookie off the plate. Poor soul has no idea what he’s eating.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Emily says.

“Well, I don’t want to.”

“That makes two of us,” Sawyer snorts.

“And there we have it,” I say. “So why are we still having this conversation?”

“We’re not,” Emily says. “Conversation over. I hope you can all work this out, but I did my duty and told my friend the news.”

Owen shrugs. “Well, that’s that.”

Sawyer’s phone rings and he pulls it out of his pocket. He cringes. “It’s Bruce.”

“Your agent?” Owen asks.

“Gimme that.” Hendrix shoots up and grabs the phone from him, putting it on speakerphone. “Sawyer’s phone. Hendrix Ellis speaking.”

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line seems a little confused. “Is…Sawyer available?”

“You’re on speaker, bro,” Hendrix says. “Sawyer’s here, Griffin, Owen, Owen’s pretty wife?—”

“Watch it,” Owen warns.

“Okay, cool your jets, Jablonski.”

“Are we free to talk on speaker?” Bruce the agent says.

“You’re free to speak,” Owen says. “We’re at my house. Maggie’s here, too.”

“The blushing bride,” Hendrix jokes, although it’s not a funny joke at all.

“Good,” Bruce says. “Sawyer, I have some good news and bad. Which do you want first?”

“Bad,” he says without pause.

Bruce goes on. “Nitro Blitz pulled out. They basically said they don’t want their name synonymous with fighting. This is probably piggybacking off that class action lawsuit against them for adverse side effects, but still.”

“Screw ’em,” Sawyer says. “What’s the good news?”

“I just got off the phone with Sunrise Foods. They expressed they have concerns, but they’re willing to keep the contract with you, provided you meet directly with the CEO and his wife for dinner.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, you’d have to bring your wife.”

“I have no wife.”

“Did you discuss this with the young lady in question?”

“Sure. The answer is no.”

“She turned down the incentive package?”

“What incentive package?” I ask.

Bruce laughs. “I take it this is the first you’ve heard of it, Miss…”

“Jones,” I say. “Maggie Jones.”

“Miss Jones,” he says. “Nice to meet you. I’m sending through a proposal, just in case Sawyer lost the last one I sent. It should be going through…now.”

“I didn’t lose it,” Sawyer says. “I’m simply against bribery.”

Hendrix taps the screen a few times and makes a long low whistle. “Dude, I’ll marry you.”

I cross my arms and look directly at Sawyer. “I can’t be bought.”

“I know,” he says, almost softly. His face is unreadable, but there’s a hint of a frown.

“Maggie, I beg you to reconsider,” Bruce says. “Sawyer, I didn’t want to say anything yet because it’s still early days, but I’m in conversations with Velocity Gear. They have a new product in development and are looking for an athlete to get involved in the design process. They’re open to proposals. I’m working on a five percent royalty contract for each product with your name on the tag. And I think there’s a good chance we can get a cut for both you and Maggie.”

“No.” Sawyer is seething.

“I thought you wanted Velocity Gear,” says Bruce. “This is the golden egg, Sawyer. You get Velocity, mark my words…Nike, Adidas, Puma…They’ll take notice. You’ll be fighting them off with a stick.”

“I don’t have to be married to do commercials,” Sawyer says.

“You do if you want to keep the cereal. And if you lose them, it’s not going to look good for you. I can hush one breach of contract. Not two. How many more good years of playing hockey do you have until you’re forced to retire? You need endorsements, that’s just smart financial planning.”

Sawyer is quiet for a moment and looks at me ever so briefly.

He closes his eyes and hangs his head down. For a second, I think he might cave. But then he says, “I’d rather lose endorsements than be married to Maggie.”

Ouch.

I mean, I’m as much against this as he is, but the way he put it kinda stings.

“So…no wedding, then?” Griffin asks innocently.

“Maggie, are you still there?” Bruce asks desperately.

“She’s still here,” Owen says.

“Maggie, listen to me,” says Bruce. “It’s a piece of paper. A business deal. You sign your name. Sawyer signs his. Boom. You’re half a million dollars richer. Plus, you’ll get Velocity royalties if that goes through. I’ll make sure you get a piece of the pie.”

Everybody looks at me expectantly. Except Sawyer. He’s still looking at the ground.

“Whattaya say?” Bruce asks. “Marriages of convenience are more common than you’d think. People do it all the time.”

“We’d have to make it look like they got married weeks ago,” Hendrix adds.

“How would we do that?” Griffin asks.

Hendrix smirks. “I know a guy.”

My stomach is still churning over what Sawyer said a few moments ago. How he’d rather lose a huge endorsement deal than marry me. I don’t know why that bothers me so much. Personally, I’d rather shave my head than go on a single date with him, let alone marry the man. But to hear it like that. I’m both hurt and angry—just like I was that day he got me all hot and bothered, only to walk out.

So, I clear my throat, stare at Sawyer right in the eyes and say the exact thing he said to me right after he tugged the hem of my bridesmaid dress back into place and smoothed it over with his palm. “This just isn’t working for me, baby.”

I hear Emily applauding as I walk back into the house. I grab my purse that I’d left at the foot of the stairs, go up to my temporary bedroom, and plop on the bed, refusing to cry.

Wanting a distraction, I take out my phone to doom scroll my socials.

It’s then I discover an email notification. It’s from the apartment I’ve been waiting to hear from.

Please be good news, please be good news.

But when I read it, my heart sinks, and I’m almost tempted to go back downstairs to polish off the rest of those cookies.

Dear Miss Jones,

Thank you for your interest in renting the property at Spadina Crest Apartments. We regret to inform you that your rental application has been denied due to the following reason(s): insufficient income, low credit score, negative rental history.

Our criteria ensures the successful tenancy of the residents within our community. While we cannot reconsider your application for this property, we recommend exploring alternatives that may better align with your current circumstances. Additionally, we encourage you to address any areas of concern mentioned in our evaluation.

Once again, we appreciate your interest in our property and wish you success in finding suitable housing. Thank you for your understanding.

Sincerely,

Management,

Spadina Crest Apartments

I’d throw my phone across the room, but I can’t afford a new one. Instead, I very carefully tuck that precious phone into my pocket and content myself with digging through my moving boxes like a rabid raccoon to see if I need more supplies for my jewelry making business.

I’m not a quitter, and I refuse to lose. But most of all, I’ll do anything to prove I do not need a man—especially not an arrogant hockey player with his millions of dollars or dazzling eyes or cornsilk hair…or miles and miles of muscles.

I do not need him in a house, I do not need him with a mouse.

And even if I did marry him, he’d soooo hate it—simply because it would cramp his style.

Wouldn’t that be funny? I can picture him trying to bring his dates home, but his good little wife would be waiting for him with a rolling pin or an iron frying pan. I could, in theory, do a lot of damage to his sex life. Actually, that doesn’t sound bad at all. It might be a lot of fun.

Cue the mustache twirl and diabolical laughter, because maybe I’m thinking crazy thoughts, or maybe… I might just be an evil genius.