Gloves Off: a marriage of convenience hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 4)

“Snow is falling on the trees,” I tell Alexei on Christmas Eve morning, staring out the window at the forest behind the house as the soft flurries drift, coating the emerald trees in white.

Everything is pretty and quiet. It’s my favorite time of year. At night, under the streetlights, the snow sparkles.

I wish you were here, I don’t say. I miss you. I wear your T-shirt every night to bed because it makes me feel close to you.

Alexei has been away for weeks and I’m losing my mind. We leave for our fake honeymoon in Silver Falls the day after Christmas—if Alexei ever gets home. His flight has been delayed two days in a row.

Time apart was supposed to bring these feelings down, but I can’t seem to get the guy out of my head, and he isn’t helping. Every few days, flowers arrive at my office, at the hospital, at home.

Camellia (white)—you’re adorable.

Red fuchsia—I like your taste. That one made me blush every time I looked at it.

Calla lily—beauty.

Honeysuckle—devoted affection.

Salvia (red)—forever mine.

I think about that last one a lot. I snipped off a bloom and pressed it between the pages of an old medical text like some wartime damsel pining for her beloved.

Who even am I anymore? If he ever found it, I’d die of humiliation.

“The money hit my bank account yesterday,” I say offhand, like my balance increasing by ten million isn’t a big deal. “Heather and I met with the bank yesterday to arrange the transfer.”

On the other end, Alexei’s quiet. “That’s good, right?” he says, finally, a strange note to his voice.

“Yes,” I lie. “It’s great. It’s a relief.”

I’m thrilled to secure our research program for the next decade, but it’s also one less reason to stay married to Alexei Volkov. Once his and his parents’ citizenship comes through, there’s nothing keeping me here. Nothing keeping me with him.

I hate the thought of this ending. Three weeks without him has been hard enough. It’s not just that I miss the sex. A few nights ago in his hotel room after their game, Alexei demanded I use my toy while he watched on FaceTime, murmuring low encouragement in my ear as he stroked himself.

I miss having him around. Without him, the house feels empty and cold. Life feels a little more dull. Even the bunnies are bored and listless. Despite sleeping in his bed, with his scent surrounding me, my sleep is restless and uneasy.

“Hellfire, I have some bad news for you.”

“Don’t tell me your flight is delayed again.” I keep my voice light and teasing. When he doesn’t answer, my heart sinks, but I sigh with exaggeration. “How will I ever stay warm tonight? I’ll have to borrow that man-chest doll Hayden got Darcy for Valentine’s Day.”

He gifted it to her as a joke after she broke up with her boyfriend. They bring it out at parties. Last time, they put a Storm jersey and sunglasses on it and brought it with us to the Filthy Flamingo.

There’s a knock at the door.

My pulse leaps before I curse myself. It’s probably just another delivery. I hurry to the door, though, almost tripping over my own feet to open it.

Alexei’s standing on the doorstep, holding a bouquet, taller and broader than I remember. His gaze sears me, intense and determined.

“You’re going to have to hold off on cuddling with that doll,” he says, tucking his phone in his back pocket.

I light up, and when my gaze drops to the flowers in his hand, I feel that sharp, pleasant tug again.noveldrama

Soft, pretty white petals, like a cross between a dogwood and a rose.

I clear my throat. “Gardenia?”

He nods.

That’s what I was hoping for, but that’s what I was also afraid of.

Gardenia—secret love.

“Welcome home,” I whisper, heart beating wildly.

The corner of his mouth twitches up, eyes warm and soft. “Missed you, Hellfire. Missed you like crazy.”

We stare at each other for a long moment before he wraps me in a tight, warm hug, his face in my neck, my head against his expansive chest. Even through his thick knit sweater, I can feel his heart beating fast.

My nervous system settles, and a deep sense of comfort falls over me.

“I missed you, too,” I admit.

I pull back and glance at his healing shoulder. “How does it feel?”

“Good. Better every day.”

“You’re not just saying that so I don’t worry?”

He shakes his head, pressing his mouth in a slanted line. “I have a different injury I need you to take a look at, though.”

In an instant, I’m alert, stepping back to look at him. With a sharp intake of breath, he gives me a wide grin before his tongue flicks, popping his left central incisor out.

He’s missing a tooth.

“No,” I choke, clapping a hand over my mouth in horror. “Alexei.” I stare at the gap before I burst out laughing. His grin is wide and boyish, pleased as punch. I laugh harder.

“The team dentist is giving me an implant on Boxing Day.” The day after Christmas. “Before we leave for Silver Falls.”

“I thought hockey players don’t get implants until after they’re done.” Losing teeth is so common, most of them use temporary bridges like what he has now until they retire.

“I doubt my wife would allow that.”

My mouth twists so I don’t smile too hard. “You know what this means, right? Get ready for those soft foods, Grandpa. Lots of oatmeal and apple sauce.”

His expression turns wolfish, eyes teasing but predatory. He steps toward me, and I take a step back, holding up a hand, still smiling.

“Do not.”

His eyes dance. “I want to kiss my wife.”

“No, thank you.” That missing tooth looks ridiculous. I’m horrified, yet laughing. “Nope. Never.”

“Come here, Hellfire.”

“Get away from meeee—” I break off on a shriek, helpless with laughter as he hauls me over his shoulder. “I’ll never kiss you now,” I holler, upside down.

He delivers a sharp slap to my ass. “We’ll see about that.”

That evening, we lie on the sofa in the front room, my head on his chest, the fireplace on, and the Christmas tree glowing with soft, pretty lights. Damon is curled up by our feet, Stefan is sleeping beneath the tree.

So this is what it’s supposed to be like. This is why people get married. This is why they choose one person for the rest of their lives.

“He likes it under there,” Alexei murmurs.

I smile. I caught him snuggling them this afternoon, Alexei whispering something in their ears.

“I didn’t know you were such a Christmas guy.”

“I’m not.”

“You had a ton of decorations.” They were in the spare room, the one at the end of the hall, that we never go in. We spent all afternoon putting them up—when we weren’t getting distracted by each other.

“I asked Svetta to hide them there as they arrived so you wouldn’t see.”

“Why?” I’m gawking at him, to his amusement.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Even as my heart pinwheels with delight, I give him a funny look. “We’re leaving in two days.”

“It’s our first Christmas together. We can’t do nothing.”

First, like there will be more. Like we’re a family. My dumb little hopeful heart lifts. It doesn’t change anything, though. If we’re together, I’m either watching him break bones and dislocate joints, or he’s not doing the thing he loves. Either option breaks my heart.

Marriage didn’t mean the same thing to Liam as it did to me, but what about Alexei? Would it be more of this, more quiet, intimate conversations, more laughter, more coaching soccer together and having our friends over for dinner?

He pulls me against his chest, and I force the thoughts away.

“I asked you once if you wanted kids,” he says carefully, and my body tenses. “And you didn’t really answer.”

I never thought it was an option, I’d said. My hopeful heart tries to rise again.

My throat works. He’s given me so much. Can’t I just be honest with him? “It’s hard for women, because, um.” I falter. “A lot of women still struggle to have families and careers. I know it’s a decades-old problem, but it’s still true. It’s even harder when both parents put their career first.”

I want one, though. It’s a fact I’ve never admitted to myself because it was easier and less painful to pretend I didn’t care, but it’s the truth. I would love to have kids.

Especially with someone like Alexei. I picture him being a dad, playing hockey with them, cooking with them, carrying a tiny version of himself on his shoulders, and it’s an image so sweet, my chest hurts.

“What if you had the right person?” He searches my eyes. “Someone to share the work and support you in the way you need. A partner. Fifty-fifty.”

A partner, like what my parents have. God, I want it to be him. “With the right person, I would want kids.”

He looks at me for a long time. I’d give anything to hear his thoughts. “Me too,” he finally says. “With the right person, I want kids.”

We gaze at each other, something yearning and expansive behind my ribcage.

“Remind me to thank Ward for getting you guys home this morning,” I whisper, smiling.

“He didn’t. The flight didn’t leave Denver until an hour ago.”

I frown. After he hauled me upstairs this morning, showing me how much he missed me must have scrambled my brains.

“I drove to Salt Lake last night and rented a private plane.” The corner of his mouth twitches.

“You drove through a snowstorm by yourself?” I’m not even going to touch this private plane thing.

“Not by myself. The guys came with me.”

I sit up. “That’s dangerous. You could have been in an accident.” Worry tightens around my heart. “What if you got hurt?”

He gives me an amused smile. “I played two seasons in Montreal, Georgia. I know how to drive in the snow. Besides,” he eases me back down to lying against him, his hand in my hair, “I needed to get home to my wife.”

Well, if I hadn’t been in love with the man before, I am now.