Page 37 of Season's Schemings

At that moment, she looks down and spots me peering at her. Grins.

“Hi,” she mouths.

“Nice jersey,” I mouth back. I point to the jersey I’m wearing, and then to the one she’s wearing, and give her as good of a thumbs up as I can with my glove on. Even though all the other wives and girlfriends look to be in their regular clothes, Maddie made use of the clean, perfectly folded gift I left for her to wear.

I was mostly joking, using it as an excuse to corner her in the kitchen earlier and get a reaction out of her. The fact that she actually wore it makes me smile, for some reason.

Over the last couple weeks, Maddie has made me smile a lot. She’s constantly chatting, full of life and energy and ideas. Just last night, she was telling me about her TikTok channel—Maddie’s Creations—and while I’ve never been into social media, her enthusiasm for her healthy sweet treats was beyond infectious.

In the couple weeks that we’ve been married, I’ve been doing my best to keep my promise to her—keep a respectful distance and make sure she feels comfortable and at ease in my apartment. It’s been easy enough given that Maddie and I have been kind of orbiting each other outside of work, our dual busy schedules meaning that we aren’t usually home at the same time (save for when we’re both asleep in our respective bedrooms).

But even when I don’t see her, she’s everywhere.

There's the sneakers stacked by the doorway, even though there's a perfectly good closet to put them in. And the girl's hair. Don't get me started on her hair… it's on the couch, on the rugs, on the hardwood floors. It's like living with a shedding dog.

But then, there's the fresh flowers on the table. The butter sitting beside the toaster. The orange juice in the fridge, and the bagel crumbs scattering the counters. And sure, I pick up after her, but these little pieces of her, scattered like confetti around my apartment, feel nice and homey.

I've been in Atlanta for just over a year and I’ve never taken the time to settle in. My only focus was hockey. And yet, in just a few weeks, Maddie’s made my apartment feel as much like home as playing for the Cyclones does.

And while things are all professional at home, save for the constant mess she seems to make, it’s like when I do see her at work and I get to let my flirty flag fly, Ireallyenjoy letting it fly. Almost as much as I like seeing her get all flustered and blushing.

I’ve decided I quite like my temporary wife.

Maybe quite a bit more than “quite” like…

Now, Maddie gestures down towards her own jersey and blinks innocently before shaking her head. Then, she holds up three fingers on one hand, and five on the other.

35.

Dallas Cooper’s number.

No way. She wouldn’t.

My pulse jumps and I feel my expression slide into a frown as I try to figure out if she’s joking. It occurs to me that my reaction may be a little irrational, but I can’t help it.

There’s not a chance she’d turn up here wearing his number. His name.

Wait… am I jealous right now?

I startle, a little surprised. Nah. I like Dallas. I’m simply concerned about keeping up appearances, that’s all.

Which has been super easy, actually. The guys all like Maddie. After the introductions on our flight home from Vegas, they immediately made an effort to get to know our team’s assistant nutritionist.

And then, of course, once they discovered how cool and funny she is—because she is both of those things—I could hardly get them to leave the poor woman alone. The team even eats their meals in the kitchen now, much to Stef’s dismay seeing as her previously spotless workplace is now a constant chaotic mess.

Maddie holds my gaze for a few seconds, smirking. Then, she blows me a kiss, stands up and twirls around to show me that the jersey she’s wearing is, in fact, number 19 and does say Slater on the back.

Brat.

“Oh, you are in for it later, missy,” I mutter as I shake my head at her. Her eyes are dancing as she looks back at me, delighted by her own joke.

“Huh?” Aaron asks as I get ready to go back onto the ice for my next shift.

“Err… just saying that these guys are in for it.”

“Riiiight.” He sounds sarcastic AF, but still dutifully fist-bumps me with his glove.

As I jump over the boards and skate back out to center ice, I’m suddenly fueled with a bigger drive than ever to perform tonight.