The Penalty Box: A hockey sports romance novel (A Vancouver Wolves Hockey Romance Book 3)

by Odette Stone

  Mica grabbed my arm and steered me into a store I never shopped at. Mostly because the prices were exorbitant. I didn’t know what to do, so I wandered up a couple of aisles, looking at the gorgeous items hanging on the racks before I found him talking to the saleswoman.

  “I just love hockey so much,” she gushed as she smiled in a daze up at his face.

  I felt like the third wheel on a date. I spun around in his size-thirteen flip-flops and headed towards the door. What I needed was the Gap.

  “Baby Krista.” He caught up with me. “Where are you going?”

  “This place is out of my price range.”

  “Buy anything you want. I’m paying.”

  Even worse. “We should go someplace more economical.”

  He looked over his shoulder. “Can we get some help here?”

  The woman rushed forward. “What can I do?”

  “We need a dressing room, and she needs some clothes.”

  The woman nodded. “Follow me.”

  She led me to the back, to the change rooms, peppering me with questions about my size and preferred styles.

  “I need an outfit for my office job,” I tried to explain.

  She all but shoved me into a change room.

  A few moments later, she returned with an armful of clothes. “Let me know if you need a smaller size or a different color. I’ll be back.”

  I stood there, looking at the eye-watering price tags of the clothes she had hung on the rack. I had just stepped into the most gorgeous pair of dress pants and a soft sweater when she knocked on the door.

  She bustled into the change room, tugging at the pants. “Those fit you perfectly. And the color of that sweater is gorgeous with your skin.” She tugged at my hand, pulling me out of the dressing room.

  She spun me around in a complete circle in front of the three-way mirror. I looked different: more polished, more expensive.

  “What do you think?”

  “I love it,” I breathed, wishing I could buy this outfit.

  She beamed and shoved me back towards the dressing room. “We will take that as a yes.”

  Twenty minutes later, the yes pile was growing at an alarming rate. I had to hand it to the woman. She knew fashion. She somehow coordinated a mix-and-match work wardrobe. Beautiful pants, sweaters, blouses, and stunning dresses that perfectly fit my body, giving shape to my long thin waist while accentuating the curve of my hips and bust. If I showed up to work wearing these clothes, Krista would have a gleeful shit fit.

  I decided I would treat myself, purchase one outfit and ask to put some other clothes on layaway.

  When I finished dressing, I found the woman at the front folding clothes into bags while another one rang them up. Mica had reappeared and stood by the counter, his wallet out.

  Oh no. There was no way I could let Mica buy my entire yes pile. These clothes were insanely expensive, and it would take me light years to repay him.

  I moved to Mica’s side and put my hand on his big forearm. “Mica.”

  He glanced down at me, reading my expression. “You need clothes.”

  “I don’t need these clothes.”

  He handed the woman his black credit card. “You need clothes.”

  Mica continued to drag me into shop after shop. My protests did little to deter him. While clerks worked to outfit me, he would disappear with my bags and reappear empty-handed to pay.

  Somehow, he systematically outfitted me, making sure I had casual clothes, jeans, dress clothes, and shoes and boots for every occasion. The mental tab I was keeping on how much he had spent made me break out in hives.

  “We should go,” I begged. “I have more clothes than I know what to do with.”

  “One more stop.” He tugged me up onto an escalator. Petals. Oh, sweet baby Jesus. He steered me into one of the most coveted and high-end lingerie shops.

  I needed underwear, but I never stepped foot in a place this expensive. Bras started at $200. My face flamed hot as he gently pushed me into the store. To my relief, he disappeared. The women insisted on fitting me for a bra, and then brought a steady stream of items that were so beautiful I wanted to cry. I was used to wearing ratty sports bras and plain cotton panties. These items made me feel sexy—like a woman.

  I balked when the woman brought me a baby doll set.

  “I don’t need this.”

  She hung it up on the rack. “I think your boyfriend does.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She glanced over her shoulder with a sparkle in her eye. “You should treat him.”

  My cheeks stained hot pink as I touched the almost sheer baby doll set. I didn’t need lingerie, but she had been so helpful, I decided I would be a good sport, try it on and then politely decline. Except I loved the baby doll set. It was so sexy and so feminine. I stood staring at my reflection, debating if I should allow myself this one treat.

  The woman returned to the change room, looking critically at my outfit. “You look gorgeous and sexy as hell in that.”

  I flushed. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, that one is a keeper. Try this one on.” She shoved a pink, scalloped-lace teddy into my hands. “I picked this out. I think you’ll love it.”

  The outfit screamed sex. It also made me look a thousand times hotter than I had ever looked in my life. I stared in wonder at my lush, lace-wrapped body. I loved how I felt in the teddy. I didn’t understand 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.”
r />   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 female side of me felt a lot of glee. I looked for the bags from Petal and pulled out the lingerie. I touched the bits of lace, intending to put them away, but I couldn’t resist. I wanted to try them on again, and Mica wouldn’t be back for at least an hour.

  I picked up a white teddy that might have been one of the least provocative ones I had bought. I stripped naked and pulled it on. It was sheer lace, pushing my cleavage sky high, and cut so low you could see the dark blush of my nipples at the top. The cut of the fabric on my hips was so high, it was almost indecent. Pretty pink ribbon straps tied over my shoulders.

  I stood in front of the full-length mirror, admiring how something so tiny could make me feel so damn good. In the mirror’s reflection, a big figure filled the open doorway behind me.

  Gasping, I turned around.

  Mica stood there, looking completely gobsmacked. His eyes were glued to my body.

  My arms crossed over my chest as I stared at him.

  “I came back to get my phone, and I didn’t want to scare you,” his low voice explained, but his eyes were looking at me like they had never looked at me before.

  “I was trying stuff on,” I stuttered. I was practically naked. I debated rushing into the bathroom but decided that was too dramatic. I needed to find his hoodie. My eyes located it hanging on the handle of the door. I casually moved towards it, which also meant I was moving towards him. With a dry mouth, I reached for it, cursing inwardly when the hood got caught on the handle.

  I froze as our eyes met. His expression was dark, and his blue eyes looked almost black. Without shame, he deliberately dropped his eyes to my chest, feasting on my decadent display of flesh. His nostrils flared slightly as he took a step towards me.

  I swallowed hard, not sure what was happening between us. Never had I seen Mica look at me the way he was looking at me now. Hoodie forgotten, my chest heaved with emotion as I stood, awaiting my fate.

  Energy crackled in the air. He towered over me, and I watched in fascination as his Adam’s apple bobbed. For the first time in two years, Mica stood before me with an expression of lust on his face. Until now he had never given me a second glance. Now he looked like he wanted to devour me.

  “That is fucking hot,” he growled. And then he disappeared from view.

  I stood frozen, cheeks flushed, listening to the echo of his footsteps down the hallway and the sound of the front door slamming.

  That is fucking hot. His words reverberated in my ears. I had secretly lusted for the man for over two years, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine he would reciprocate my lust. Fantasy did not match reality. Reality was a thousand times more terrifying.

  Mica was one-hundred-percent a man’s man and put every guy I had been with to shame. I was no shrinking virgin, but I knew better than anyone that he was way more man than I could handle. He radiated masculine power, intensity and a blinding sexual wattage that promised to short-circuit me and potentially ruin me for the rest of my life.

  If I slept with Mica, would anyone else after him come close to comparing? I didn’t think so. And I needed to remember that. This was a short-term arrangement, and I needed to make sure I came out of this intact.

  My legs shook as I quickly got dressed again. I carefully tucked my lingerie in the back of a drawer. It had been a mistake to buy those items. I wouldn’t be trying them on again until I got through this fake marriage in one piece.

  Chapter 8

  MICA

  I stalked to my car and got inside. Holy fuck. What had just happened? I covered my mouth with one hand as my mind replayed what I had just seen.

  Baby fucking Krista, wearing that scrap of lace, had looked like a man’s wet dream. My dick was throbbing hard while lust pulsated through my body.

  That had caught me completely off guard. Jesus. Those breasts with creamy, milky skin and a hint of nipple that begged to be sucked. I had almost lost my head when I saw her standing there.

  And when she had walked towards me, hips casually swaying, her breasts jiggling with each step, I had thought for sure she was coming towards me to get something started.

  When I realized that she was reaching for my hoodie, I had instinctually taken a step towards her. To do what? To unwrap that body like it was my own personal gift?

  I groaned and looked at the front of my house. I forced myself to start my car and back out of the driveway. Charlie was off-limits. She was here to help me get out of a mess. She was not here as my own personal plaything.

  I shook my head, still in disbelief. How had I never noticed how fucking perfect her body was? Now that I knew that, how much would it screw with my head? I needed to remember that she was here in name only. Because nothing would mess up this situation faster than if we became physically involved.

  I took my time getting groceries, trying to think my way through this situation I found myself in. Charlie and I were stuck living together. When we made this agreement, I had thought we would live as roommates. When her house had burned down, she became someone that needed my help.

  I didn’t even see her as a friend. She had been an extension of Krista and part of a plan to get me out of my current mess.

  But seeing her body on display like some hedonistic goddess, I had to rethink who Charlie was.

  Off-limits. She’s off-limits.

  I felt almost duped by the fact that I had never noticed her before. For two years, layers of baggy work clothes had hidden her body, and she had shielded herself with a sharp tongue and sarcastic tone. I needed to remember the old Charlie and completely erase the siren vision now burned onto my retinas.

  When I came back with groceries, she came out of the bedroom, fully covered up in a pair of leggings and my hoodie. I had just spent thousands of dollars on her new wardrobe, but she chose to wear my oversized hoodie. That amused me. Which made no sense. I studied her as she peeked into one of the grocery bags. She looked damn cute. Her curly hair was tangled down her back, and I resisted the u
rge to push my hands into it.

  “Can I help put things away?” Her tone was friendly and casual, but she avoided eye contact.

  “Sure.”

  We worked silently together, unpacking the groceries. I watched as she bent over, giving me a money shot of her ass.

  I wondered if she might be still wearing that white lacy thing beneath her clothes. The thought was hot. I wanted to cross the kitchen, push up my hoodie and see for myself.

  I wasn’t used to being around someone I couldn’t touch. When I desired a woman, I dated her. When I dated a woman, I enjoyed fucking her.

  Now I was about to marry Charlie and I couldn’t touch her. It was messing with my head.

  Everything was uncharted territory. I didn’t quite know how to handle her or this situation. Should we cook together? Or fend for ourselves? I had envisioned this situation as two roommates who were polite and respectful of each other and who publicly came together as a fake couple only when required. Not a couple that cooked together.

  My phone pinged with a text.

  Ryan: You around?

  His text felt like a lifeline.

  Me: Want to go for dinner?

  Ryan: Yeah. Right now?

  Me: Yes, want to meet at Bob’s Burgers?

  Ryan: Heading out now. See you soon.

  I shoved my phone in my back pocket and spoke to Charlie, not sure why I felt the need to explain myself. “I’m going out.”

  She didn’t react. She just kept pulling items out of the bag. “Have fun.”

  I should have been relieved at her independence, but it kind of stung that she seemed so indifferent.

  I ran my hand through my hair, having absolutely no idea why I couldn’t decide how I felt.

  “Have a good night.”

  Four hours later, I was hammered. Ryan had nursed a beer all night, and I had taken the fact that I was suspended as an opportunity to drink myself into oblivion. I spilled out the whole sordid mess about being on Ashford’s shit list and Krista’s master plan to get me married. I didn’t mention the issues with Yazimoto or Andrusha’s alternate life, but I talked in fits and starts about how the last few days had been.