The Penalty Box (A Vancouver Wolves Hockey Romance Book 3)

I FELT disoriented as I opened my eyes, squinting against the soft sunlight that streamed in through the balcony doors. Sitting up, I took a better look at the large guest room. Someone had decorated the room in a delicate blue and white that accented the sturdy, white-painted furniture.

I felt no real loss over my apartment. It had been nothing but a shitty holding place while I tried to get out of debt, but I felt uncertain now that I had no home. I had no idea where to go next.

Last night, when I was sitting alone in Emergency, and Krista hadn’t answered her phone, I realized I had no one else to call. Two years of working two jobs had left me with no real friends. I hadn’t wanted to call Mica, but I had no choice. And somehow, I knew he would step up for me. It surprised me when he brought me home. At best, I thought he’d give me money to stay at a hotel.

Now I needed to figure out my next steps. I needed to get a hold of Krista. She would offer me a place to crash. I tried her number again, but her phone was still off. I showered and then dressed myself again in Mica’s clothes. I crept out of the bedroom, but the house was silent. I found a note on the counter in a thick, masculine scrawl. Went for a run.

I moved my clothes to the dryer and then stood in his kitchen, looking around the place. It looked better than it had the other day, but the couch was nearly destroyed and no one had rehung the paintings that still leaned against the wall.

The alarm chirped and then Mica appeared, breathing hard, his hair wet from exertion.

Without speaking, he moved into the kitchen and filled a glass with water before downing it. I stole that moment to take in the breadth of his shoulders and hard muscles beneath his T-shirt.

“Thank you for last night.”

He shrugged.

I tried again. “I’m still trying to get a hold of Krista. I’ll be out of your hair shortly.”

“You might as well stay here since we’re getting married.”

I blinked. That hadn’t exactly been the most welcoming offer. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be here.

He set the glass down. “I’m going to shower. Then we need to go buy you some clothes.”

I didn’t have a dime to my name. If we went shopping, he’d need to pay. I would wait until I got in touch with Krista. She could lend me money, and I could buy my own clothes. “That’s not necessary.”

His eyes dropped over my body, taking in my bare feet and his sweats. “You need clothes.”

I wanted to protest. But he had me there. I didn’t even have a toothbrush to my name. I needed his help.

I promised. “I’ll pay you back.”

He shrugged, uncaring, as he put his glass in the sink. “Give me fifteen.”

WEARING MY YOGA PANTS, tank top and Mica’s hoodie, along with a pair of his big flip-flops that looked completely ridiculous on my feet, I didn’t speak as he parked at the nearest mall.

I couldn’t keep up with his long strides and he seemed incapable of walking slow, so our progress across the parkade consisted of him walking ahead of me then stopping and turning to watch me try to catch up to him. On any other day, I would have thrown some sarcastic shade his way, but not today. I felt about as vulnerable as I had ever felt, and I was completely at his mercy. The guy was about to spend his money to buy me clothes. He could get away with murder today, and he wouldn’t get a peep out of me.

I had a game plan. I would buy two pairs of pants and two shirts that I could wear at both my bar job and at work, and I would alternate washing them until I got paid. Then I could come back and buy more clothes.

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.”

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.