“Three, two, one!” The crowd counted down my penalty. Two minutes for roughing had been worth it. Then again, since we were up four to one against Detroit with only three minutes left in the third period, it was fair to note that it hadn’t been my first time in the box tonight.
I flew out onto the ice and positioned myself near the blue line as Briggs and Noble fought to get the puck out of our zone.
One of the Red Wings rubbed a little close on me as I maneuvered forward, so I gave him a little bump. The guy lost his balance and ran into the boards. Whoops.
Briggs drove through two of the forwards, moving the puck so quickly I had to focus, then shot it my direction when the Red Wings’ center took him on. I caught the puck and sent it flying toward Axel, then took off, careful not to pass the blue line until he brought the puck over it.
They backchecked, naturally, but Axel fired the puck at me just before they caught him. I caught the puck and took off toward the goal, beating the first defenseman with pure speed and faking out the second with a quick stop and change of direction. My heart pounded, and the roar of the crowd faded as I honed in on the goalie.
I’d played with this asshole for years, which meant I knew his moves, but it also meant that he knew mine. I drove glove-side, knowing his upper right pocket was his most vulnerable spot. When he moved to cover, I flipped to backhand and shot the puck stick-side.
It sailed just under his arm and hit the back of the net.
The lamp lit, the crowd thundered, and I shouted in victory as Axel pounded on my back in congratulations.
“Nice goal!” he shouted.
“Nice assist!” I countered.
I skated toward the family seats and noted with a grin that Persephone sat in the front row, not up in the box seats some of the others favorited. My girl liked to be close to the action. I pointed straight at her, and she smiled, shaking her head and clapping for me.
She looked every bit the part of an NHL wife, from her designer jeans to her tailored Reapers Jersey that fit her like a fucking glove. Her hair was down, framing her incredible breasts, but I knew the best part was the fact that my name was on the back of the jersey. I hadn’t even seen it before I left for the game this afternoon, but I would have bet my bonus on it.
I halted just in front of her and twirled my finger with a smirk.
She cocked an eyebrow at me, but turned around, no doubt thinking about how much it turned me on to see Price on her back.
But it was her turn to surprise me. She’d had it custom made with my number, but it read, “Mrs. Price.” She turned back around and threw my own smirk back at me.
“So fucking hot,” I said toward the glass, knowing she would read my lips.
Her grin was heart-stopping, and I pounded at my chest to let her know it.
“For fuck’s sake, Price!” Coach yelled from the bench, and I took off for fear that we’d get a penalty for too many men on the ice if I stalled much longer.
“Sorry, Coach.”
He smacked my helmet. “Make googly eyes at your wife on your own time, Price. Not mine. That being said, it was a damn fine goal.”
We finished the game five to one, and I left the ice feeling like I hadn’t just secured a victory against the team that had traded me when my PR issues were too much for them to handle—I’d won against the Cannon I’d used to be back then, too.
I returned a text from Lillian, showered, and went through the post-game nonsense. I answered a few questions from the reporters brave enough to walk over and ask them, but I left most of that spotlight shit to Axel as our captain, and the guys who liked the attention.
Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I walked out of the locker room with Sterling.
“You did really well tonight,” I told the kid as we made our way through the small crowd of reporters, staff, and really fucking bold puck-bunnies.
“I let that one in,” he argued, shaking his head, as we cleared the crowd.
“Look, I played with Brian for years. The guy leads that team in scoring for a reason. It says a lot about Coach McPherson’s confidence in you that he let you out there tonight. Don’t beat yourself…holy shit.” I paused mid-sentence at the sight of the middle-aged man headed our direction.
The guy was a living, breathing legend. Sergei Zolotov was one of the best goalies the game had ever seen. Even though he’d been retired, the guy still held a shit ton of records.
“Fuck,” Sterling muttered, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.
“No, shit, right? What the fuck is he doing here?” Not just here, but walking straight for us, his eyes narrowing on Sterling.
“Making my life miserable,” Sterling answered, clenching his jaw in a way I’d never seen.
Zolotov barely glanced my way as he pinned Sterling down with his stare. “It was easy to see that he’d take you glove-side. You’re weak glove side. You don’t anticipate or react fast enough.”
What the fuck?
“You fly all the way out here to tell me that?” Sterling fired back.
“I flew all the way out here to see if the rumors were true, that you would be the one to watch in the coming seasons, but I see the reports were mistaken. You carry the same flaws you did in college, but on this stage, they’re even more obvious.” He crossed his arms over his chest, straining his suit fabric.
My gaze darted between the two. Same height. Same posture. Holy shit, they even had the same exact eyes.
“Well, you can head on home to the wife and kids, just as disappointed as always,” Sterling snapped.
“Don’t be an ass, Jansen.”
“Don’t act like you’re my dad, Father.”
Whoa. I’d stumbled into the motherload of family drama. I so wasn’t qualified to help him handle this shit. Where the fuck was Logan? Or Axel? Those two were way better on the emotional stability charts.
“Don’t call me that in public,” Zolotov sneered.
“Then don’t show up at my games. Easy.” Sterling shrugged.
Zolotov’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Jansen.”
“Just leave me the fuck alone, would you? It was easy enough for the first twenty-two years of my life to ignore my existence. Don’t come around just because I made it to the NHL, because I did that shit without your help.” Sterling pushed past his father and headed deeper into the arena, farther from the crowd.
“He’s difficult,” Zolotov muttered.
“He’s my friend, so go to hell.” I followed Sterling, catching him before the hall curved.
“Fuck. I’m sorry you saw that,” he growled, looking more serious than I’d ever seen him.
“Look, I’m the last person to lecture you about family shit.”
“He never came around when I was a kid. And I get it. He’s been married to the same perfect Russian woman for the last twenty-six years, and has three, perfect, Russian kids.” His jaw ticked. “But the only thing I’m grateful to that asshole for is that he paid my mother child support. He might have paid for my ice time, but he sure as fuck didn’t coach me up like he did for his real kids.”
“Shit. Maxim Zolotov was a rookie last year, too.”
“Yep.” He paused, and I turned when I realized he wasn’t walking. “Look. Can you not tell everyone else? I got here on my own, and I don’t need his fucking legacy hanging over me.”
“No problem.”
“Cool.” He took a deep breath, and when he looked up, it was as if the last five minutes hadn’t happened. “So, I’ve decided I’m going to wear a blue leisure suit to your wedding.”
The abrupt change would have caught me off-guard if I didn’t have an intimate understanding of hiding family dynamics.
“And that right there is the reason you will never be my best man.” We came around the corner and found a group of women standing in front of the elevator. The elevator I needed to get on so I could meet Persephone in her office.
“Oh my God, if it isn’t Cannon Price,” one of the women said, looking me up and down with a wide smile.
These were Detroit girls. I scanned over their faces, noting a few wives of the Red Wings players, and more than a few bunnies that must have elevated themselves if they were traveling with the team.
I gave them a nod and grimaced as a tall brunette swayed her way over to me. Her arms were covered in colorful tats, and her nose was pierced with a single stud. I knew her, but couldn’t remember how. Fuck. Tiffany? Taylor? Tina? What was her name? Thank God I’d never fucked her because I wasn’t inviting that drama into my life.
“I came all the way to see you,” she purred, staring at me like I was lunch.
“Then I hope you enjoyed the game.”
The elevator dinged, but I couldn’t see past the Red Wings women.
“Oh come on, Cannon. You said you’d never be interested while I was dating Ambrose, and now I’m not.” She held out her hands like she was serving something…serving herself. “So when my friends demanded a girls’ trip, I figured you’d be my reward.”
Tanya. That was her name. She’d been the on-again, off-again girlfriend of one of the guys who’d been called up from the minors, and from what I’d read, he’d gone right back down at the end of last season.
“Sorry. Not interested.”
Her face fell. “I’m sorry?”
“Not sure if you’ve heard, but Cannon here got married,” Sterling thumbed my direction. “I, however, am single and absolutely available to reward you.”
Had to give it to the kid. He had balls.
Tanya glanced him over, then arched a sculpted brow at me. “No fucking way are you married. I’ve never seen you with the same woman twice.”
“Then you haven’t seen him lately,” Sterling chimed in.
I held up my left hand, and her eyes fell to the ring, widening as she took it in.
The crowd of women parted slightly, and Persephone emerged. Her little kitten heels did jack and shit for her height, but she still turned every woman’s head as she came my way.
“There you are!” she said with a grin. “You were amazing!”
She flew into my arms, and I caught her easily, lifting her against me as my hand splayed over the number on her back. I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed in her apple blossom scent, feeling that ache in my chest transform into a fucking glow as she kissed me quickly.
I opened my eyes to see Tanya staring at Persephone’s back. I lowered my wife carefully, and she tucked into my side, turning a ready, kind smile on Tanya.
“Oh, hello! I’m so sorry, was I interrupting something?” She glanced between us.
“Persephone, this is Tanya. She dated one of the players when I was with Detroit.” I kept my arm comfortably locked around Persephone’s waist, careful not to let my bag fall on her. “Tanya, this is my wife, Persephone.”
“It’s lovely to meet you.” Persephone offered her hand, and Tanya took it, shaking it awkwardly.
“You’re…his wife?” She stared openly at Persephone.
“Yep!”
“But…you’re not his type.” Her brow furrowed.
Rage simmered in my blood, but Persephone patted my chest. “To tell you the truth, he’s not mine, either, but the man literally swept me off my feet a couple of years ago, and the rest is history!”
I stifled a laugh at how she’d twisted our first encounter, and managed a nod. “True. And once she fell for me, I couldn’t resist her.”
Tanya’s jaw dropped. “You’re really, honestly married. The two of you.” She glanced between us.
“They are. I was there,” Sterling assured her. “It was a beautiful, impulsive, almost drunk-on-joy ceremony, and I was the best man.”
I turned my head slowly to raise my eyebrows at him. “You are not the best man.”
“I feel like there’s room for negotiation.”
“A nice little girl like you ended up with…Cannon Price. Oh honey, do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?” Tanya’s voice dripped with fake sympathy.
If Persephone was right, and women gossiped about the bedroom habits of men, then I had no doubt she’d heard some of those stories back in Detroit, when I hadn’t been selective about the women I’d taken to bed.
“Oh, I know exactly what I’ve gotten myself into. Don’t you worry.” Persephone scrunched her nose in a way that told me she was geared up for battle, southern belle style.
“Was it the money?” Tanya questioned. “Or the sex?”
My eyes narrowed.
“Absolutely not! I have more money than I’ll ever be able to spend in a lifetime, bless your little heart.” Persephone smiled at Tanya and rested her hand just above her breasts. “I honestly can’t tell you why I decided to marry him. That’s all a blur, really. But my God, did I win the husband jackpot or what? I mean, I absolutely adore everything about the man, and he’s just the most loyal, protective, sweetest, most attentive husband a girl could ask for, but I have to admit, that dick sure is a great bonus!”
Tanya’s jaw dropped.
Sterling sputtered.
I flat-out laughed. “And on that note, I’m afraid we have to be going.” I scooped up Persephone and hoisted her over the shoulder that wasn’t carrying my bag, then splayed my hand over her ass to steady her as I turned around to head back down the hall.
“I hope you have a lovely trip!” Persephone called back at Tanya.
“I should spank you,” I muttered up at my wife, still grinning from ear to ear.
“Mmmm….yes, please.” A passing mirror showed that she was wiggling her fingers in goodbye at Tanya as we walked away.
My little kitten had out her tigress claws.
“You are so fucking hardcore,” Sterling said up at my wife.
“A girl’s gotta mark her territory,” she answered. “Now, you might have to move a little faster, Cannon, or we’ll miss our dinner reservations.”
“We have dinner reservations?” I cringed. All I wanted to do was get my wife alone.
“At the most exclusive spot in town,” she assured me.
“Sounds perfect,” I lied.
An hour later, I pulled onto a stretch of road that had been marked as private property, following the directions of my wife.
“Turn here,” she instructed as the grass became taller and the terrain unmistakably sandy. I did as she instructed, then parked where the pavement ended. We met in front of the Hummer, and she took my hand, a gesture that had become so normal I’d almost forgotten what it was like to not hold her hand.
She led me down a sandy path, and I was glad I’d ditched my suit coat in the car since she still wore her jeans and jersey. Where the fuck was this restaurant?
We crested the small dune, and the Atlantic appeared before us in all her evening glory. On the stretch of beach in front of us, there was a small gazebo with a table and chairs.
“What did you do?” I asked Persephone softly.
She gave me an impish smile. “Follow me.”
We made our way down the dune and across the sand as a woman emerged from the gazebo.
“It’s all as you requested, Miss Van—” She shook her head. “Mrs. Price.”
“Thank you so very much, Patricia. I’ve got it from here.”
“Of course. You two enjoy your evening.” The woman headed up the beach, leaving us alone as we walked up the wooden steps.
“Okay, so what is all this, and where is she going?” I asked.
“My family owns a beach house up that way. Don’t stress,” Persephone assured me.
I took in the table, the silver covers over the dishes, the iced bottle that sat perched near the edge of the table, and the small chocolate cake that rested between the plates.
“Persephone,” I whispered, utterly speechless.
“Happy Birthday, Cannon.” She rose on her toes and brushed a kiss across my mouth. “I figured you weren’t one for parties if you didn’t even mention that today was your birthday, so this seemed a little more your style.”
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close. “How did you know?”
“Lillian,” she answered with a smile. “Do you like it? If not, I’m sure we can call your friends—”
I kissed her soundly, savoring the brush of our tongues, and her soft sigh.
“This is perfect. You’re perfect.” She knew me so fucking well.
Her nose scrunched, and I immediately got worried. “Well, you might think that right now, but let me give you your present first.”
“I don’t need a present. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.” I’d never spoken truer words.
“That’s not exactly true. Now sit right there.” She pointed to my chair.
I sat dutifully as she picked up a picnic basket from the floor and placed it in my lap. “Did you make me more cookies?” I was so down for cookies.
“Nope. Do you remember that night we were curled up reading, and you mentioned that you never stayed in one place long enough for—”
Her story was interrupted as the lid on the basket moved. I flipped it open, and a wet nose emerged, followed by black fur, big brown eyes, and a pair of floppy ears.
“Happy Birthday!” Persephone shouted like her surprise hadn’t been hijacked by the puppy who was now climbing from the basket and clawing its way up my tie.
I caught the wiggling, soft, tiny monstrosity and held it under its armpits at a slight distance so I could get a grip. She—he—stared at me and wagged his tail.
“You bought me a dog?” I whispered.
Persephone nodded. “You said you always wanted one, but couldn’t have one because your dad couldn’t be trusted around small animals, and then you were in so many foster homes, and then the dorms, and now your travel schedule is all over the place.”
I dragged my eyes from the puppy to my wife’s hopeful but apprehensive face. “You bought me a dog?” I repeated.
“Well, I figured I’m home, right? And maybe it means that I can’t make it to every away game, but we can hire a puppy sitter to come stay with him when I do decide to go with you every once in a while.” She watched me for any sign of a reaction.
The puppy’s tongue emerged, and his entire butt wriggled with his tail. “What type of dog is he?”
“He’s a mix. The animal shelter wasn’t clear, but they think he’s Lab, Shepherd, and something else. All his brothers and sisters got adopted, and this little guy was all alone, and I couldn’t leave him there.” She pressed her lips in a thin line. “Cannon, if you don’t like him, we can find someone to adopt him,” she finished quietly.
“What? No. He’s awesome! Aren’t you?” I asked the little man. He tried to lick my face as his answer.
“You like him?” she asked, reaching out to scratch him behind the ear.
I transferred him to my other arm and tucked him in like a football, then pulled Persephone onto my lap. She wound her arms around my neck.
“I love him. I’ve never been given a better present in my life. Ever. He’s perfect. You’re perfect. This is all…” I looked over the dinner she’d set up for us, the secluded setting, and finally, the wriggling little monster under my arm.
“Perfect?” she suggested, her smile widening.
“Yeah. I fucking adore you, Persephone. You’re incredible.” I kissed her soundly as the puppy tried his best to eat my tie. I didn’t care. He could have the fucking tie.
“Happy Birthday,” she said again, kissing my cheek softly. “What are you going to name him?”
Keeping her on my knee, I adjusted my grip on the puppy and brought him eye level. Then I looked from him to my petite, goddess of a wife and back again.
Hades. She’d called me her Hades.
“Cerberus,” I answered. “He doesn’t have three heads, but something tells me he’ll guard our little house just fine.”
Pure feeling shined through her eyes, and her smile was a little watery as she stroked her hand down Cerberus’s back. “Cerberus,” said softly. “Guardian of the underworld.”
We locked eyes, and that glow in my chest threatened to overtake every inch of my body. Fuck, I felt so much for this woman that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to put it to words or contain it. She hadn’t just given me a puppy. She’d given me a home.
“I adore you too, you know,” she said softly.
“Oh yeah?” I leaned forward to kiss her, my lips just reaching hers—
A sound stopped me dead in my tracks, and then wetness seeped into my shirt. Cerberus had peed all over me.
Persephone laughed so hard she nearly fell off my lap.
“You and I are going to have to set some ground rules, little man.”
He had the nerve to wag his tail and lick my face.
Best. Birthday. Ever.
