The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3)(9)

I studied the photos of Mica’s potential brides, secretly hating every one of them. “How are you going to get someone to marry him?”

“Money. Lots of freaking money.”

That had my full attention. I worked to sound super casual. “How much money?”

“I think we’ll start at one hundred thousand for a year. And work our way up from there.”

I almost choked. “You will pay someone that much money to marry Mica?”

“Technically, he’ll do the paying.”

“This is a platonic marriage, right?”

“She will have to move in with him and act the part of a loving wife in public, but behind the scenes, she’ll be a glorified roommate.”

Mica wasn’t the only one with secrets. My secret was that I owed someone a lot of money. I muttered, “For that kind of money, I’d marry him.”

Her head whipped around. “Seriously?”

Joking! “I was being facetious.”

She zoomed that laser focus on me. “You’d be a perfect candidate.”

I waved my sandwich around. “I work here, remember? Probably not a good idea.”

She bent over her folder and wrote something down. “Yes, but we need to find someone like you.”

“Like me? What does that mean?”

“You’re the opposite of a WAG and a puck bunny.”

“You mean, my life’s focus isn’t to hunt down a professional athlete so he can provide for me?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

Her phone rang, and she disappeared out the door. Suddenly Mica filled the doorway of the boardroom. His eyes took in the faces on the board before they settled on me. I studied him back. A faint haunted expression marred his face.

“Krista’s on the phone.”

“I saw that.”

I played with the crust of my sandwich, unable to eat in front of him. “So, you’re going through with it.”

“Do I have a choice?”

I tried to put a positive spin on it. “It might not be that bad.”

He responded by blinking at me.

I tried again. “It’s only a year. Actually, just until the end of the season, so not even a year. Technically, you only need to keep the charade going until they renew your contract.”

His eyes lifted to the photos of his potential brides. “I don’t want to get married.”

“You mentioned that.”

My phone buzzed, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the name.

Yazimoto: We need our monthly payment tonight. $5000

Holy shit. When would this pain end? I quickly checked my bank account. I had $5200 in my account after paying rent. Which left me exactly $200 until my next paycheck to put gas in my car and eat.

For the hundredth time, I cursed my brother for his reckless and stupid behavior. Now I was on the hook for his debt, and no matter how hard I worked or how many payments I made, I never seemed to make headway.

Me: I’m working at Dewey’s Pub tonight

Yazimoto: I will send someone to pick it up at midnight.

I put the phone down on the table, feeling more than defeated. No matter how hard I worked or how much I scrimped, this debt was unending.

“Everything okay?” Mica watched me.

“Nothing to do with your situation.”

Krista bustled back into the room. “Okay, glad you’re here. Let’s get to work.”





*



Me: How is it going?

Jasper: Same old, cutie. You?

Me: Work is crazy. Mica screwed up and now he has to get married!

Jasper: What? To whom?

Me: We’re looking for a bride for him. Don’t tell anyone.

Jasper: Lips are sealed. What did he do?

Me: Long story.

Jasper: Are you sad your boy toy is getting married?

I hated the idea of him marrying someone.

Me: He’s not my boy toy!

Jasper: :-P

Me: He’s not happy.

Jasper: Call me tonight. I want details!

Me: I work late.

Jasper: Okay, call me tomorrow.

Me: Okay, later.

Jasper: xo





*



It was past 1:00 a.m. and there was no sign that the Thursday night rush at Dewey’s would let up soon. I was working on fumes and it felt like I was wearing cement boots.

I was wiping down a table when I caught sight of Mica. He was standing at a tall table with three other players and he didn’t look happy. Probably because he had missed out on playing tonight’s game because of his suspension. Or maybe because he had lost the fight to Krista and conceded to getting fake-married. He faced a long year living with an unwanted roommate, while outwardly portraying to the world that he was knee-deep in domestic bliss. It was not a situation I envied.

Our eyes met across the room at the same moment someone roughly grabbed my arm.

“Watch it.” I wrenched my arm free. The owner of the arm didn’t belong in the bar. Maybe it was his scary neck tattoos or his black leather vest, but he wasn’t an average patron.

“You Charlie?”

“Yes.”

“Yazimoto sent me.”

My heart sank. “Meet me out back. I have to go grab the money.”