Down and Dirty (Hot Jocks #5)(6)

I slide into a seat next to my friend Bailey, hiding my red cheeks with a menu, but Landon doesn’t make it that far. Teddy, one of the team veterans, slaps him on the back, and Owen, the team’s fun-loving goalie, pulls him into a side hug that quickly becomes a headlock.

“Covey’s officially off the market, ladies!” Owen says with a laugh.

Once he breaks free, Landon chooses the seat directly across from me and pours two glasses of water from the pitcher on the table, then slides the first one to me. I accept it with trembling fingers.

“So, how does it feel to wake up a married man, Lovey?” Elise asks, a wicked glimmer in her eye.

“It feels like I’m hung over as fuck.” Landon snickers, and the whole table breaks into laughter.

Well, the whole table except for me. I must have steam coming out of my ears or something, because after taking a bit more teasing from the guys, Landon leans across the table, his brilliant blue eyes brimming with concern.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not fucking okay,” I whisper back. “Why would I be even a little okay with this?”

“Oooh,” Owen hollers from across the table. “Are the newlyweds having their first lovers’ quarrel already?”

My throat constricts. Shit. I need to get some air before I start crying in front of all my friends.

“Excuse me,” I whisper, swallowing the lump in my throat as I push back from the table. I’ll pick up fast food or order room service later or something. But I can’t sit and take any more jokes about the dumbest mistake of my life. Especially not while I’m feeling like total shit.

“Hey, hey, wait up,” a voice calls from behind me, and before I can make it out the revolving door, Landon catches me by the arm, his long, calloused fingers curling around my wrist. “What’s wrong?”

I spin to face him. His eyes are now a dangerous shade of blue. A shocking, brilliant blue that makes me feel a little weak as I pull a breath into my lungs.

“I’m glad your teammates are so amused by our situation,” I manage to say through gritted teeth. “Because I sure as hell am not.”

“Come on, Aubree. They’re just joking around.” He reaches for my hand again, but I pull it out of his reach.

“It’s not a joke. It’s my life. And once I have a functioning, non-alcohol-poisoned brain again, I’ll be getting legal advice from Sara, and we’re going to look into how to get this annulled.”

Landon’s eyes meet mine, his gaze determined. “Just take a breath.”

I do, releasing it slowly as my heart pounds. “Last night was a mistake,” I whisper, looking down at my sandals.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He swallows the words.

When I look up again, he’s staring directly at me, his face expressionless.

I breathe out a shaky breath. He can’t be serious. “Okay, I thought I was the one with a nonfunctioning brain. You saw that certificate, right? That was a real ceremony. We’re legally husband and wife right now.”

“I know we are,” he says, his voice strained. “Which is why I’m taking this seriously.”

My mouth falls open and I blink at him, dumbfounded, waiting for him to laugh and tell me he’s joking. Or, better yet, that this whole thing is one big prank, that the ring and the certificate are fake, and this is some elaborate joke that he and the rest of the group concocted.

But when he stares back at me, the look of determination in his eyes sends a shiver trampling down my spine. All I can do is laugh in disbelief. It was either laugh, or sob loudly.

“Landon, if you’re suggesting that we stay married . . .” I pause, trying not to scoff at the thought while giving him another second to say gotcha. But he doesn’t. “Well, then you’re even more immature than I thought.”

His face falls for a second, then steels into a stern expression, his angular jaw ticking in a way I can’t quite read. “We’ll talk about it later. This weekend isn’t about us; it’s about Owen and Becca.”

I make an aggravated sound. “Then why is everyone talking about us instead of Becca and Owen?”

Since when is there an us?

He closes his eyes briefly, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows whatever emotion he’s choosing not to show. “I’ll handle it. Just come back to the table. You’ll be in a better mood once you have some coffee.”

My eyes narrow at him, but he doesn’t back down.

“And possibly some eggs,” he adds, and I straighten my shoulders.

“I don’t like eggs.” When he frowns at me, I say, “Make it pancakes, and you have a deal.”

“Done and done. Pancakes on me.”

I follow him back into the restaurant like a runaway puppy returning home with its tail between its legs.

“Aw, did we kiss and make up?” Becca coos, riling the table up again.

“Enough.” Landon’s barked order, coupled with his dagger-sharp look, quiets everyone down, at least long enough for us to place our orders.

After that, every time I look up, Landon is staring at me. His scrutiny makes my stomach tighten in a way I haven’t felt before.

When our food arrives, the conversation dies down as people dig in. Once we start talking again, the subject switches to Becca and Owen’s honeymoon in Greece.