Axel (Carolina Reapers 1)

Harper shrugged. “I was.” She nudged Faith. “She told me to wear nothing but his jersey though. Not expensive lingerie. I bought a handful of this stuff as an insurance policy,” she said, waving toward the gobs of lingerie in the store. “We should’ve enlisted Sawyer’s help. Flown him out here. He’s a guy without an agenda and could offer a non-bias perspective.”

The girls had roomed with the goalie for the University of Washington while they were in college and he’d grown on all of us. When he missed his shot at the Sharks by a hair’s breadth it had sucked a little bit of joy out of our little group. But as far as I knew, Faith’s older brother, Eric, the Sharks’ current goalie, was still helping him train.

“I do miss Sawyer,” Faith said but rolled her eyes. “But you do realize we all sound as bad as puck bunnies trying to ensnare a hockey husband.” She scoffed.

Puck bunnies were the bane of every hockey wife or girlfriend, and where the term only made me roll my eyes last month, now it made me feel like baring my teeth. Axel might not be sleeping with me, but he sure as hell wasn’t on the market. For the next five-and-a-half-months, that man was mine.

I clucked my tongue at Faith. “We all know that isn’t true.” Faith and Lukas had gone through their own hell to find and hold on to each other. And Harper and Noble had literally everything working against them before they found their happily ever after. “I’m the one doing this all backward.”

The girls flashed me a sympathetic look. They’d both been with me in Sweden when the epic break-up had happened and knew what it’d done to me. They also knew how Axel had taken care of me that weekend without any sort of expectation from me whatsoever. He was simply a good man.

A good, incredibly sexy, Viking of a man who was such a gentleman he insisted on dating me despite us being married.

The thought made a smile shape my lips despite my grumblings.

“What about this?” Faith asked as she held up a black, strappy contraption that looked like it needed an instruction manual to get into. It screamed wild and confident and fuck-me-now.

I hurried over to her, taking the hanger from her hands to examine the scraps of lace and straps of black more closely. Sure, it was intimidating, but Axel was worth facing any vulnerabilities I may have about my sexuality. I nodded, smirking at the girls.

“If I’m going to put this on tonight,” I said, heading toward the counter. “I’m going to need a drink…or three.” I set the garment on the counter, along with a few other tame pieces I’d gathered while browsing. The jersey suggestion, though...that warranted a good amount of thought, too. “Do you know the best place to get a drink around here?” I asked the girl at the register as she rang up my items.

She glanced from me to Faith and Harper and back again. “You’re with the Reapers, right?” she smiled sheepishly with a soft southern drawl. “I may have overheard you talking about Vestergaard and Noble.”

“We are,” I said. “You’re an NHL fan?”

“I think everyone in this town is now an NHL fan. Well, a Reapers fan, anyway. It’s been a long-time dream for the community, and we’re pumped to have you here.”

“Nice,” I said, nearly choking from the total. If six-hundred-dollars’ worth of lace and silk didn’t at least earn me another kiss from Axel I may as well give up.

“Langley Pierce-Nyström?” she said, noting my new credit card. “As in Axel Nyström?”

“He’s my husband,” I confirmed, a note of pride sneaking into my tone. I’d debated changing everything over, my license and my credit cards, but who knew if I’d actually ever marry anyone else. I might as well have the full experience now.

“I saw the new posters with him over in the sportswear shop. He’s wow. Just. Whoa. Wow.” Her eyes went so big it was all she could do to blink them back down to size. “I mean, Vestergaard is hot, and then there’s Noble, and Price, and Ward, and I already bought my MacDhuibh jersey, but Nyström? He’s like hot with a side of…” Her cheeks flushed. “Oh my God. I’m incredibly sorry. That was so inappropriate!”

“That’s okay,” I laughed. “He really is a lot of whoa and way more wow. And that’s Faith Gentry-Vestergaard and Harper Thompson-engaged-to-be-Noble.”

The girls waved, and the clerk blushed even redder.

“Um, a place to get a drink,” she said switching the subject with a quickness. “Scythe,” she continued and paired the recommendation with an address. “It’s right next to the new Reapers’ arena. Best bar in town, in my opinion.”

I collected my bag of goods and smiled at the girl. “Thanks!”