"I guessed at the size. Does it fit okay?"
She nodded, swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. "Yes. It's perfect. Thank you."
Surprise flashed in his eyes, quickly veiled behind the shadows she had noticed there last night, right after his insane proposal. He looked out the window, his shoulders tight around his ears, then turned back to her. The shadows were gone now, his eyes reflecting nothing more than casual indifference.
"I wasn't sure what you'd like so I just picked these out. We can get a diamond ring later."
"I-I don't need a diamond." And oh God, was he serious? This was taking things too far. She didn't want a diamond ring. The band was enough—more than enough. He didn't look like he believed her and for a few tense seconds, Natalie thought he was going to argue with her. But he simply shrugged and turned back to stare out the window.
Twenty minutes later, they were being escorted to a private table at a fancy restaurant in an even fancier hotel somewhere on the strip. A black-suited waiter brought champagne to their table, followed by several courses that smelled delicious but she couldn't remember really tasting. Dinner passed by in a blur and then they were leaving again, the same car taking them to another hotel—Ben's hotel. And now hers, too.
They rode the elevator up in silence. Natalie's stomach rolled with a combination of nerves and excitement. This was their wedding night and she had no idea what to expect. Would Ben want to talk a little first? Maybe drink a little more champagne? Part of her hoped so. Just enough to relax her. Just enough for her to be a bit more comfortable with him. Just enough that she wouldn't feel like she was jumping into bed with a total stranger.
Although if that kiss he'd given her at the chapel was just a tiny taste of what was to come in the hours ahead, maybe she wouldn't need much conversation. The kiss, for as short as it had been, had taken her completely off-guard and left her wanting more. In fact, just the memory of that kiss was enough to make her excitement grow and push away her nervousness.
But she still didn't want to just jump into bed with him. No, the wedding—the marriage—wasn't real, but it was still their wedding night. It should be something special. Memorable.
Ben led her down the plush hall to the double doors of the suite, unlocked it and pushed them open. She followed him inside, trying to hide her surprise at the opulence. She knew Ben played some kind of sport—hockey, she thought—but she didn't realize it paid this well. She had no idea what his salary was but apparently it was more than she expected because the room had to have cost a small fortune. Or maybe not. Just because she couldn't afford it didn't mean other people couldn't.
The door clicked closed behind her and she jumped, startled by the soft sound. If Ben noticed, he didn't show it because he strode past her, reaching up with one hand to undo his tie. He paused at a door leading off the living room, nodded at it then glanced at her over his shoulder.
"That's your room. Everything should be in there already."
Natalie opened her mouth. Closed it. Stared after Ben as he disappeared into another room.
Her room?
She walked toward it, reached out and slowly opened the door. It was a bedroom, larger than her entire room at the shitty hotel she had checked into the day before yesterday. Her suitcase rested at the foot of the bed, the top flipped open to reveal the small selection of clothes she'd brought with her.
She hesitated then moved toward the door Ben had disappeared through a minute earlier. She took a deep breath, working up the courage to knock, but it opened before she got that far. Ben stood just inside the entrance, his broad shoulders almost blocking her view completely. He had changed already, his tie and suit jacket gone, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to expose muscular forearms. She pulled her gaze away from those arms and peered around his shoulder, disappointment warring with confusion when she noticed the room was another bedroom.
Ben stepped around her, careful not to touch her. "I'm meeting some friends at the casino. If you need anything from room service, just call them. Our flight leaves at eleven, the car will pick us up around nine."
"But—"
"We can call room service for breakfast, or grab something at the airport, doesn't matter to me. I'll see you in the morning."
She followed him across the suite, stumbled to a stop in the middle of the room. "But—"
She never got the rest of the words out because Ben was already closing the door behind him, leaving her alone in the huge suite.
Natalie stood in the middle of the living room, the forgotten roses crushed in one fist. Once again left behind.
Once again forgotten.
Once again alone.
On her wedding night.
Chapter Two
The die rolled across the expanse of green and hit the back wall of the table before bouncing back, clacking together with a tiny sound barely audible over the noise in the casino. Ben watched them roll, breath held as they came to a stop.
Seven.
Fuck.
One of the dealers pulled the pile of chips on the table toward him then quickly removed them, sorting them into stacks as the players surrounding the table put more down.
Everyone except Ben. He couldn't get new chips down fast enough because Nathan Shaw grabbed his left hand and raised his arm, damn near pulling it from the socket. Ben could have used his right hand but that would mean putting his drink down.
And he wasn't in the mood to part with the drink. Hell, he wasn't even in the mood to be here.
"What the fuck is that?" Nathan fingered the ring, twirling it on Ben's finger so the overhead lights caught the embossing in a brilliant rainbow of colors.
Ben tried to free his hand but he couldn't, not with Kyle Middleton and Ryan Gardel crowding around him. His teammates gaped at the ring, their mouths either open in shock or curled in derision.
Yeah, coming down here had been a damn stupid idea. Hell, coming to Vegas had been a damn stupid idea. He should have stayed the fuck home—it would have saved him a hell of a lot more than the money he'd dropped on the games during the last three days.
Nathan jerked Ben's arm up even higher, twisting his hand back so everyone had a clear view of the ring. "Seriously, Leach. What the fuck is this?"
Ben jerked his hand free and started gathering the chips he had left. "What the hell does it look like? It's a ring."
"Yeah, I can see that."
"Then why are you asking stupid fucking questions?"
"Because it looks like a damn wedding ring."
Ben pocketed his chips and stepped away from the table, hoping to put some distance between him and his three teammates. No such luck because all three men followed him. He tossed back the rest of his drink and searched for a passing waitress. Nathan darted in front of him, blocking him.
"It's a wedding ring." Nathan repeated the words, the statement coming out as a question. Ben bit back his annoyance and gave up the search for a waitress.
"Your point is?"
"It's a wedding ring."
"You're repeating yourself, Shaw."
Ben tried to step around him but was stopped by the other two men who now flanked Nathan, creating an effective wall of muscle. Ben could push through them—hell, that's what he did for a fucking living—but they'd only catch up to him again.
Ryan leaned forward, his sandy blonde brows pulled low over eyes the color of whiskey. "Is that seriously a wedding ring?"
Ben glanced down at the ring, wondering for at least the twentieth time why the fuck he was wearing it. He should have taken it off as soon as they got back here. Hell, he should have never bought it in the first fucking place. Buying a ring for Natalie was one thing. But buying the matching band for himself? He still didn't have a fucking clue what had possessed him to do that.
He dropped his left hand and offered the Bombers' back-up goalie a cool smile. "Looks like it to me."
Nathan was the first one to recover his voice after the comical silence tha
t greeted Ben's words. The other man frowned, opened his mouth, then damn near roared his question.
"Why the fuck are you wearing a wedding band?"
Ben shrugged then dropped his bombshell. "Probably because I'm married."
Dead silence.
The expressions on the men's faces—disbelief, shock, outrage—would be comical if the same emotions weren't raging through him.
Disbelief: yeah, he still couldn't believe he'd done something so damn foolish and impulsive.
Shock: he had plenty of that, still trying to come to grips with what he'd done. Not only had he fucking asked Natalie—a woman he barely remembered and didn't know—to marry him, he'd actually gone through with the farce.
Outrage: another thing to add to his growing list of emotions. Outrage at himself for being so fucking stupid. Outrage at his three teammates for looking at him like he'd finally lost the last bit of sanity he possessed. Outrage at Natalie for letting him come down here—
No, he had to scratch that last one. Yes, he was angry. And bitter. And maybe even a little fucking confused, especially about the way he'd reacted after the kiss he'd given her back at the chapel—but that was on him, not on Natalie. He hadn't given her a chance to say much of anything when they got back here and wouldn't have listened even if she had. He escaped the room as fast as he could because if he didn't, he'd kiss her again, just to see if he had imagined the way that kiss made him feel. And then he'd want to—
Ben shoved those last thoughts away. Yeah, he was a miserable fucking bastard and had the reputation to back it up but even he wasn't so fucking cold to take advantage of someone that way.
"What the fuck do you mean, you're married? This is a joke, right?" Nathan glanced around the crowded casino, a wry smile curling one corner of his mouth. "There's a camera somewhere filming this shit, isn't there?"
"Not a joke." Ben pushed through the wall formed by the three men and headed toward the bar at the far end of the casino. He didn't have to look behind him to know they were following him. Hell, he'd be doing the same thing if their roles were reversed.
Just because he expected it didn't mean he was looking forward to it. All he wanted was time to himself. A little peace and quiet. Maybe a corner booth where he could curl up and grab a few hours' sleep before their flight left in the morning.
Yeah, that sure as hell wasn't going to happen.
He stopped just inside the bar, letting his eyes adjust to the lack of flashing lights, then made his way over to an empty table. A waitress quickly showed up, flashing him a bright smile as she leaned over and wiped the table. Ben swallowed back a groan and wondered if this was the universe's way of getting back at him. The waitress was the same one they'd had the other night, their first night here in Vegas. Her name was...he frowned. He couldn't remember her fucking name, but he sure as hell remembered everything else they'd done when he'd taken her back to his suite.
Ben's gaze shot to the abundance of creamy flesh on display and he opened his mouth to say something. Knowing his record, it would have been something wildly inappropriate that would end with her sprawled across his lap.
Again.
The memory of moss green eyes filled with confusion and the barest hint of fear had him snapping his mouth closed.
Fuck.
They needed to have a talk, Natalie and him. He hadn't given any thought to the practical side of things when it came to sex. No way in hell could she expect him to abide by that faithful shit, not when this wasn't a real marriage. That was taking things too far. This whole marriage thing was in name only, neither one of them should have any expectations for anything.
But he still couldn't bring himself to make another play for the waitress, no matter how many times she pressed her ample chest against his arm as she wiped the table down.
Yeah, he really needed to have that talk with Natalie. But not tonight. One night wouldn't kill him.
Much.
His teammates quickly joined him, uncharacteristically silent except for when they each ordered their drinks. The silence ended as soon as the waitress sauntered away.
Nathan leaned across the table and fixed Ben with a cool stare. "Okay, Leach, out with it. What the fuck is going on?"
"Nothing's going on."
"Bullshit. You don't drop a fucking bomb like that then walk away. Were you just fucking with us earlier? This is just a joke, right?"
"No joke."
"You really got married?"
"Yeah. I'm married." Ben's stomach knotted at the word. Married. It hadn't seemed real until he actually said it out loud.
Married.
What the fuck had he been thinking?
Kyle leaned back and folded his arms in front of him, his gaze cool as he studied Ben. A wide smile crossed his face and he suddenly laughed. "I call bullshit. Good one, though. You almost had us."
The waitress reappeared, their drinks balanced on a tray that she rested on the edge of the table. She passed them around, once more leaning closer to Ben. She offered him a bright smile then reached up and brushed her dark hair away from her face. Ben watched her fingers drift through those thick waves and remembered what it felt like to fist his hands in all that hair. Remembered what those silken strands felt like against his bare stomach as she—
Fuck.
Ben dropped his gaze and reached for his drink, both hands curling around the chilled glass like it was a lifeline of sorts. Better to hold the glass than reach for something he could no longer have.
"Holy shit. I think he's telling the truth." The amazed words drifted around the table, leaving silence in their wake. Kyle and Nathan both stared at Ryan, identical frowns on their faces.
Nathan finally shook his head in disgust. "Don't be so fucking naive, Gardy. No way in hell is he telling the truth."
"Yeah? Then why the hell did he just blow off his favorite waitress? He was all over that shit the other night."
"Because—" Nathan's mouth snapped shut and he shifted in his chair, his gaze following the woman's departure. He turned back around and shook his head, only this time, it looked like he was trying to convince himself of the truth. "No. No fucking way. I don't believe it."
"I'm with Shaw. No way in hell are you married."
"You think I give a fuck if you believe me or not?" Maybe it was the way Ben said it—in his typical don't-give-a-shit fashion—but he could tell all three men were starting to believe him. Not that he cared. And not that it was any of their business. They were teammates, with a bond closer than most blood families. That didn't mean he needed their approval.
"So when the hell did this happen?"
Ben glanced at his watch. "A few hours ago."
Nathan choked on his drink. He reached for a napkin, ran it across his mouth, then crumpled it up and tossed it to the table. "A few hours? Then why the fuck are you down here instead of upstairs, fucking your new wife?"
Ben didn't think—he just reached across the table and grabbed Nathan's shirt, pulled him halfway out of the chair before he realized what he was doing. He released him then sat back, embarrassment warming his face. He started to apologize, stopped himself and raised the glass to his mouth instead.
"What's her name?" Ryan asked, breaking the sudden tense silence that settled over the table.
Ben took another drink then lowered the glass, stared into the dark liquid for a few long seconds while he decided if he wanted to answer or not. For some reason, the idea of sharing anything about Natalie made him uncomfortable—which made no fucking sense at all. It wasn't like they wouldn't meet her tomorrow when they caught their flight home.
"Her name is Natalie."
"Natalie." Ryan repeated the name, a small frown creasing his face. "Natalie Leach. I guess that has a nice ring to it."
Ben's stomach knotted again as some unknown emotion slammed into him. One hand curled into a fist and he shook his head. "Not Leach. It's not like that."
"What's not like that? She's not taking your name?"
"No." At least, he didn't think so. Why the fuck would she? He pushed the panic away and shook his head. "No, I don't think so."
"Why not? You're married, right?"
"Yeah but like I said, it's not—"
"Who gives a shit about her last name?" Nathan leaned across the table again. "What I want to know is why she's upstairs and you're down here. Not with her. On your wedding night."
Panic clawed at him once more then settled in his chest, suffocating him with its weight. "I told you, it's not like that. A real marriage, I mean."
"Then what the hell is it?"
"It's just—I'm just helping her out. That's it."
The three men stared at him as if he'd been speaking in a foreign language. Ryan and Nathan exchanged a quick glance then started laughing. Kyle just sat there, his head tilted to the side as he kept staring.
"Are you fucking shitting me?"
"What?"
"You're just helping her out?"
"Yeah. She—" Ben slammed his mouth shut. They didn't need to know the details of Natalie's personal life. It wasn't their business. Hell, it wasn't his business.
"Since when do you worry about helping anyone else out?"
Ryan's question was just that: a simple question. There was no malice in it, no accusation or judgment. But the words sliced through Ben with a sharpness he didn't expect.
Since when did he help anyone out?
He didn't. He never had. Not really. Yeah, if one of his teammates needed help moving or some shit like that, he'd help out if he didn't have anything else going on. But anything deeper than that? Fuck, no. That wasn't him. He didn't give a shit about anyone—it was easier that way. Simpler. If he didn't care, he wouldn't be disappointed down the road. That philosophy had carried him through the last ten years, there was no reason to change it now.
But hearing it put into simple words left him with a sharp pain somewhere deep in his gut. He started to brush the question off, to make the smartass comment his teammates were expecting, but Nathan's fresh laughter cut him off.
Playing His Part: A York Bombers Hockey Romance (The York Bombers Book 7) Page 2
