Push (Colorado Storm Hockey #3)

Chapter 9

9

ADALINE

Fuck. I kissed my husband.

I didn’t mean to kiss him. I really had no intention of kissing him when he showed up at my door, dressed in an olive green t-shirt that is definitely his color, his hair a little messy, pulled up on top of his head, his beard shorter, and jeans that bulged noticeably in the crotch.

I still didn’t intend to kiss him when he called me A , that special little nickname he has for me.

I didn’t even intend to kiss him when his big powerful hands landed on my hips and my mind immediately thought SEX.

Nope. It was an absolute impulse that struck me in the span of one second and forced my lips onto his the very next.

There was something in his eyes. A gaze that spoke to me in a language that I somehow know perfectly without ever learning it. It wasn’t an invitation. More like a memory.

And of course the kiss was good. Of course it was.

He’s too good at it, like he probably is at a lot of things. His kiss has a commanding pull and his lips are somehow a perfect fit for mine .

And this annoys the hell out of me. I’d like to have a chance, please. I’d like to not embarrass myself around my soon-to-be…mere acquaintance…former husband…Vegas mistake. Whatever he shall be labeled once those marriage invalidation papers get signed and ordered.

But I did it. I kissed him and I am embarrassed. And to make matters worse, I haven’t heard from him in a week, but I know he’s been on the road with his team. I even watched one of his games with Mallory, finding myself unexpectedly invested in the outcome. So yeah, that’s another new twist. My family would be happy to know that I’m now a Colorado Storm fan when I haven’t been a sports fan like ever. They all love sports. And that couldn’t be more clear than when they learned I’m bringing him to the wedding. Suddenly I have their attention in a good way, but I can’t let that get to my head. I’ve got to pull myself together for Kyla’s wedding and make sure I have enough self control to not do something stupid.

“Are you even listening?” Kyla says and snaps in my direction.

We’re sitting at an elegantly decorated table at one of Denver’s trendiest brunch spots, surrounded by her bridal party. I’m trying my best to appear engaged in the inane conversation, but failing to concentrate because of The Kiss. If I could I would trademark it.

I give her an apologetic grin. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Did you remember to include the rosewater toner?”

I nod and she turns back to the group, seemingly satisfied.

The bridal luncheon is in full swing, and Kyla is basking in the attention, as usual. So far, the event is exactly what I expected it to be. The bridesmaids have been more focused on taking pictures than actually eating the food. But I won’t complain about it. They’ve been posting photos with the gift I provided for the party—beauty products from my store. It stings a bit to lose out on potential profit, knowing that Kyla will never pay me back for it, but at least her influencer friends are showing it off.

Kyla has been even more braggy about David’s accomplishments and wealth since dinner at my teta’s house, which is saying a lot, considering how much she usually gushes about him. It obviously has to do with Nik.

I can’t hold back my laughter as she proclaims to the table, “And let’s not forget David’s decision to pursue a career in law, rather than something children dream about, like being a firefighter or sports star.” Kyla says it with a smirk and her gaze shifts towards me. Could she be any more obvious? Fake-dating my temporary husband just to see her reaction is even more tempting than it already was.

I pick at the overpriced salad in front of me. The voices of Kyla and her friends fade into the background as I consider why Nik hasn’t contacted me about the papers I need to sign. He’s probably just busy with his hockey schedule. I’m sure that’s the only reason. He doesn’t seem like the type to want to delay this. And there’s no way that kiss changed his mind. If anything, he probably wants to get it done even faster. Or maybe I’m selling myself short.

Don’t go there.

Yes, I impulsively married the man, but I don’t want to be married to him. I want to jump his bones at some point, but an actual marriage? That’s not for me. And even though I’ve made some pretty heavy lip contact with the dude, I still know nothing about him. I don’t even know where my husband lives.

Kyla continues to go on about the wonders of David and I could use a break from the mental load that puts on me. Because when I hear about David, I now think about Nik. I excuse myself from the table, mumbling something about needing to check on a delivery at the shop. As I step outside, I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head. But even here, away from the chatter and the clinking of silverware and tapping of acrylic nails on phones, I can’t escape the nagging sense that I’m missing something. Or someone.

I pull out my phone, my fingers hovering over Nik’s contact information. I want to call him, to hear his deep, gruff voice on the other end of the line. But what would I say? T hanks for being my fake husband. Sorry for attacking you with my lips?

I shake my head, slipping the phone back into my pocket. I’ll give him space, I decide. If he wants to talk about the annulment papers, he’ll call. In the meantime, I have a business to run and a life to live. A life that does not actually include a certain brooding hockey player.

With a sigh, I square my shoulders and head back inside, ready to face the rest of the luncheon with a smile plastered on my face. I’m not sitting down again for more than a minute when my phone buzzes in my pocket and I discreetly check the screen. I’m a little disappointed it’s not Nik, but instead a text from Mallory.

Mallory: Emergency at the shop. Need you ASAP.

I can feel my face pinching. Shit, this cannot be good. But before I can say a word to the party, Kyla leans over with her perfectly manicured eyebrows raised so high I swear they touch her hairline. “Everything okay, Ada?”

I flash her my best fake smile, already reaching for my bag. “Yeah, just an urgent issue at the shop. I’m so sorry, but I have to run.”

Kyla’s expression hardens faster than quick-dry cement. “Seriously? You’re leaving in the middle of my one and only bridal luncheon?”

Guilt swirls in my stomach, but I stand my ground, which feels like a tremendous accomplishment when it comes to my family. “I’m sorry, Kyla. It’s an emergency. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” As if supplying the gifts for her bridal party wasn’t enough.

She does one of her patented huffy sighs and turns back to the gaggle of her adoring fans, shooing me away with a wave. “Fine. Go. But don’t forget, you promised to help with the wedding favors.”

I feel the urge to sprint out of the restaurant as I say, “I won’t forget.”

But she stops me. “Actually, there’s something else I want to discuss with you before you leave.”

“What’s that?” I ask, my body positioned to make a mad dash out the door.

“Marcus, David’s groomsman, can’t make it to the wedding and so instead of finding a replacement for David’s side, we decided to just decrease the bridesmaids on my side to make it easier.”

Let me guess, she’s going to ask me to step down. “Is it me?” I interrupt, hoping to cut to the chase.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I know this probably meant a lot to you, but I hope you understand.” Her tone is painfully insincere.

Ignoring all the money and time I’ve spent on this wedding, from the bridesmaid’s dress and accessories to the bachelorette party in Vegas and more, I feel a surge of relief at being released from this role. And hey, if it weren’t for Vegas, I wouldn’t be sitting here married to a stranger.

“I totally understand. I really have to go.”

“But you’re still good with the wedding favors, right?”

I’m tempted to say fuck off , but I remember that she’s family, and I would be an idiot to start that kind of family drama weeks before the wedding. “Of course.”

She smiles just enough for me to know that she heard me.

“I’ll see you later,” I say as I get up and go.

I hurry to my car, feeling like I’ve just made a daring escape for freedom. When I finally get to my shop, Mallory’s freaking the hell out, standing in the middle of a minefield of broken glass. Her face crumples as she says, “I’m so sorry, Ada, I was trying to organize the new inventory, and I accidentally knocked over an entire shelf. I had to close the shop.”

I assess the carnage, my mind whirring like a calculator as I tally up the cost of replacing all this inventory. But as Mallory and I kneel and start sweeping up the wreckage, a funny thing happens. I actually start to feel…calm? Centered, even. Because this right here, this is a problem I can wrap my hands around and wrestle to the ground. No murky feelings, no what-ifs. Just me, a broom, and a best friend who’s always got my back.

And speaking of murky feelings, as Mallory and I are elbow-deep in glass shards and sticky floor gunk, I find myself spilling my guts about Nik. I tell her about the kiss and all the maybes that keep pin balling around my brain.

Mallory, bless her heart, just listens. And when I finally run out of words, she squeezes my shoulder and says, “Ada, I’ve known you for years, and I’ve never seen you like this about a guy. If there’s even a chance that he feels the same way, don’t you think it’s worth exploring?”

“I don’t know. I swear with this guy, it’s like someone’s handed me a sledgehammer and said, have at it to my heart. My feelings feel chaotic.”

“Well, it turns out you can’t control everything, can you?” She laughs and I roll my eyes. “Why don’t you see how your fake date works out? Maybe it can turn into a real date if you like each other.”

I chew on that for a minute. “Date my husband?”

“I know, absurd right?”

“Utterly.”

“Teta,” I call as I enter my grandmother’s house, the familiar scent of her favorite rose perfume enveloping me like a comforting hug. “I brought that hand cream you like. ”

I’m surprised to see she’s not sitting in the den watching the news. The sound of the ticking clock is so loud in the unusual silence.

“Teta?” I call out again, this time much louder, and feel my heart beat triple in speed when she doesn’t respond.

The house feels eerily quiet as I make my way through the familiar rooms, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet. Panic claws at my chest as I reach her bedroom door, half expecting to find her lying in her bed, but the room is empty. Frantic thoughts race through my mind—did she go somewhere? Is she in trouble? Losing my teta is one of my greatest fears.

Just as I’m about to grab my phone to call my brother, a faint sound catches my attention. Following the gentle hum of a soft melody, I step into the backyard, the warmth of the spring sun on my skin a stark contrast to the cool breeze that occasionally passes by.

There she is, sitting on a bench, the rough wood worn smooth by years of use. Her eyes squinting, a funny smile gracing her lips as her weathered hands gently caress a small picture frame she’s holding.

Relief floods through me as I watch her, soaking in the scene before me, the scent of budding flowers in the garden drifting on the breeze.

“Teta, what are you doing out here?” Spring in Colorado is fickle. The weather can turn on a dime and the warm Colorado sun can go behind a cloud and the temperature can drop fast.

“Adaline, habibti,” she says and pats the open spot beside her as she sets the small picture frame down.

I settle next to her on the bench, feeling the old wood creak beneath me. The picture frame catches my eye, and I reach for it. Inside, a young couple smiles back at me, frozen in a snapshot of happiness. I recognize them immediately—Teta and Jedo, my grandfather who passed away when I was eight years old. They look so vibrant, so full of life .

Teta watches me study the photo, her eyes crinkling at the corners as a wry smile plays on her lips. “Thomas was such an ass,” she says, her voice tinged with a mix of fondness and exasperation.

That makes me laugh. That’s so her way of never quite saying what you expect her to say.

“And why is that?” I ask her and look closer at the photo. My jedo was a good-looking guy.

“Oh, he used to drive me crazy,” she gives as an explanation, her gaze turning wistful as she reminisces.

“I kind of remember that,” I tell her.

“He was stubborn as a mule. And so rude to people he didn’t like.”

“Well, good thing he liked you,” I tease.

“Sometimes,” she says and laughs a little, the sound warm and rich. “And sometimes I liked him, too. Good thing we loved one another.”

“Do you miss him?” I ask, feeling tears well in my eyes, not for missing a man I never knew very well, but for her heart.

“Every day, habibti. He died too young and left me here. I think that’s the reason I’m mad at him today and probably why I’ll be mad at him tomorrow.” Her voice wavers slightly, the weight of her loss still heavy after all these years.

We’re quiet a moment before a chilly breeze brushes past us, sending a shiver down my spine. “Come on, let’s go inside,” I suggest.

“You’re not enjoying the sun?” she asks, her eyebrow raised in question.

“I love the sun, but?—”

“Then let’s enjoy it. Vitamin D is good for you.”

“I’m hungry,” I tell her, and I know that is the fastest way to get my grandmother up and inside, out of the cold.

“Why didn’t you say so?” Teta says and rises to her feet with a newfound energy .

While enjoying a Diet Coke and a handful of Lorna Doone cookies, we flip through a gossip magazine together, the glossy pages smooth beneath our fingers. This is one of her favorite guilty pleasures.

“So tell me more about your date for the wedding. He’s a hockey player?” she asks, her eyes scanning the bold headlines splashed across the pages.

Oh no. I should have predicted this. There’s still so much I don’t know about him that I’m going to struggle with any questions that are beneath the surface of the man.

“Yes, he is. Nik plays for the Colorado Storm.”

“You’ve mentioned that a few times. And you met in Las Vegas?”

“Yes, we did.”

“Kyla told me about how you disappeared with him.” It’s just a statement. Not a question directly. But there’s an implication that I should supply more information about our little disappearing act.

“We were hungry and got some pizza.” It’s not a lie, and I’m proud of that. There’s no way I’m going to tell her about our trip to the chapel.

“Is he nice?”

“Hmm, maybe like Jedo nice,” I tell her.

That makes her laugh, the sound filling the room and easing the tension from my shoulders. “Well then, I would tell you to run. And take another look at George. He’s such a nice Lebanese boy.”

I refuse to even acknowledge the George suggestion. “Nik is just the brooding type, you know. I think it’s in his job description.”

“Your jedo thought the same thing about running the liquor store.”

“Well, being a liquor store owner probably gave him a tough guy attitude. I don’t blame him. My customers are supposedly nice, but they even drive me to the edge sometimes.”

“It was a tough business we were in,” she says and flips a page in the magazine. “Is Nikolas good to you?” she asks.

“Yes, so far. He’s definitely handy.”

She perks up, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Handsy?”

I laugh, the sound bubbling up from my chest. “No! Handy . He helped me fix a shelf that collapsed in my workshop.”

“Oh, well, then hold on to him. Especially if he’s handsy too.”

“Teta!” I exclaim.

She puts her hands up in defense. “What? You should be with an affectionate man. Otherwise, what would be the point? As long as you like it, of course. Anyway, I’m just glad you’ve met someone. It makes me feel more calm about when I’m gone.”

“You’re not going anywhere, anytime soon, Teta.” I shake my head, refusing to even go there. “Want to get some dinner tonight? My treat.”

She closes the magazine. “I’ve been craving one of those chili dogs from DQ.”

“Yes, that sounds good. Let’s do it.”