Emmersyn unkinked her legs from where they’d been bent out to the side of her on the couch and stood, brushing her hands down her thighs and settling them at her hips, stretching her back.

“Well, you know, I don’t know much, and I figured since we’re getting married tomorrow…” As she said it, she swallowed thickly, struggling to get the words out. “I figured as your wife, I should know something.”

Well, that was nice. Unnecessary, but nice.

So why was she so embarrassed about it?

She shuffled away from the couch as I moved toward it, almost in a hurry to get away from getting caught, not that I cared.

My chest squeezed in a warm way as I grabbed the laptop, held it in one hand and typed in my code with the other to pull up what she’d been watching.

YouTube. Well, this was a surprise. “You watched the last game we played last year?”

We’d lost in the playoffs, but I’d had a hell of a game. Two goals, great defense. Colorado just wanted it more. Simple as that. They played harder, both on the road and at home and we were always on our back skates, playing catch up. Even Garrett had a record amount of goals blocked for a playoff game, and Dominick and Max hadn’t been able to stop apologizing enough after that loss for their defensive struggles, even though the loss was most definitely not on them.

We won as a team, and we lost as a team.

But me? I’d had one of my best games of the playoffs that night.

“What’d you think?”

“Oh. Um. You were great. Fast and…” She flipped out her hand, fingernails now painted a fire engine red, so different than the pale nails she’d sported all week. “You know. Great.”

I closed the laptop again and set it on the coffee table. “You don’t know anything about hockey, do you?”

“Heather made me watch. All the time.”

I stepped closer to the island. With a game tomorrow, pre-season or not, I couldn’t drink, but that didn’t mean I didn’t fight back a laugh as she poured a healthy glass of white wine.

At least she’d finally made herself at home and stopped asking my permission for everything.

“That doesn’t mean you know anything.”

“I know Heather thinks you’re the best guy in the league.”

A bark of laughter burst from me. “Of course she does. She’s my sister and loves me. My parents also think I’m the greatest player to ever play the game. So tell me, you who knows so much…” I waited until she drank her wine and set down the glass.

“What?”

“What did you think of that shitty tripping call the ref made in the first period that ended up with my ass in the sin bin?”

“Sin bin?” Two beautiful dark eyebrows rose in confusion.

“Penalty box. Nickname for it. So, what’d you think?”

“Well, I think he was wrong.” She took another sip, brows puckered, and looked off to her left.