Never Say Never: An Enemies-to-Lovers Secret Identity New Adult Sports Romance (Western Wildcats Hockey Book 4)

A frown mars my expression as I hold the door open for Colby. His muscles bulge as he slides past with boxes stacked in his arms.

How exactly did I get myself into this?

One minute, the guy is sinking inside my body and the next, I’m agreeing to the suggestion that he move in.

Temporarily.

I glance around my apartment, no longer able to recognize the space.

Was it really less than an hour ago that it was neat and tidy? Everything in its place?

It now looks like a bomb exploded.

Guy stuff is strewn across every surface. We’re talking hockey gear, clothing, an X-box, books, and hair products…

Seriously?

It’s like he’s moving in forever.

Not just a few short weeks.

I rack my brain.

Did we set a firm timeline for this trial run?

If we did, it’s eluding me.

Panic floods my system.

I need to get ahold of myself.

I’m sure it’ll only take a week or two for both of us to realize that we have nothing in common.

Except good sex.

As far as I’m concerned, that doesn’t count.

He shifts the boxes before pausing. “Should I set this in the bedroom to unpack for later?”

Good lord…he really is taking over. It’s like the floodgates have opened and there’s no way to close them again.

“Yeah, I guess.”

He disappears inside the room before returning a few minutes later. My gaze tracks his movements as he beelines to the counter that separates the kitchen and living area and picks up a bottle of water before lifting it to his lips and chugging. My mouth turns cottony as he tips his head back until the corded muscles of his throat stand out in sharp relief.

Oh my.

My lady parts twitch in pure male appreciation before I stomp it out.

It takes effort to rip my attention away from the sight of him. I’m embarrassed to admit just how difficult it is to think straight when he’s in the vicinity.

All I can say is that the man dulls my senses.

Which makes me no better than all the puck bunnies who stalk him around campus.

A groan tries to work its way free from my throat.

He cocks his head. “I’m sorry? I didn’t quite catch that. What did you say?”

Shit.

“Was it really necessary for you to move in?”

He leans against the counter and jerks a brow. “When else are we going to spend time together? Between hockey and classes, I don’t have a ton of it.”

True.

But still…

“Just seems a bit drastic…” I mutter, unsure what else to say.

“Maybe. But we’re married. And from what I’ve seen, married people cohabit.”

“So you keep telling me.”

His lips quirk and the delicate skin around his eyes crinkle.

How is it possible that the expression only makes him sexier?

I blink away those pesky thoughts.

They certainly aren’t helping matters.

He glances at his cell. “I have practice in a few hours. Want me to throw something together for dinner before I leave?”

I’m sorry…did I hear that correctly?

“Are you trying to tell me that you actually…cook?”

When he smirks, something pings at the bottom of my belly. “You don’t have to look so shocked. Haven’t you figured out yet that I’m a man of many talents?”

He’s not kidding.

“You’re a real renaissance man, Colby McNichols.” My attempt at sarcasm comes out sounding embarrassingly breathy.

“Mom taught me when I was a kid. It’s a good stress reliever.” He throws a wink in for good measure. “Although, not as relaxing as certain other recreational activities…”

I can’t help the way my lips twitch in amusement. It’s impossible not to smile and laugh in his presence. He has a real knack for lightening the atmosphere.

Guess that would be another one of his many talents.

But I’ll keep that observation to myself.

Otherwise, the guy will get a big head.

All right…a bigger head. It swells up any more and he won’t fit through the door.

A strange warmth spreads through my veins at the idea of Colby preparing dinner with me in mind.

“What are you best known for?”

He purses his lips as a thoughtful expression fills his eyes.

I hate to admit how adorable it makes him look.

Ugh.

This is bad.

“If I was forced to pick just one thing, I’d say that my lasagna is pretty amazing.”

My brows rise. “Really?” I’ve watched chefs make the dish on cooking shows. That particular entree seems both time consuming and labor intensive.

“If it’s easier, you could just whip up something like grilled cheese and tomato soup or spaghetti.” Even Mom was capable of boiling noodles and emptying a jar of sauce into a pan.

He frowns. “You’re not a fan of lasagna?”

“No, I love it. I’m just saying that if it’s…” My voice trails off as I shrug.

His eyes widen as he straightens to his full height. “Wait a minute…you don’t think I have the skills? Is that what you’re insinuating?”

The shock that reverberates in his voice is enough to make me laugh. “I didn’t say that!”

He crosses his arms against his chest and glares. “You didn’t have to. It was implied. Which essentially boils down to a challenge. So, grab your purse and let’s pick up the ingredients I need from the store.” He throws a glance at my fridge. “And we’re going to have to fix that sad state of affairs while we’re at it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You have a few yogurts, diet soda, and a block of cheese. That won’t do. We need healthy options.”

I grumble before snagging my purse off the breakfast bar as we head to the door.

Forty minutes later, we’re back with four bags overflowing with groceries. Only one is for the dinner Colby is dead set on making. The rest is a mix of protein bars, healthy baked chips, unsalted nuts, low carb granola, cartons of eggs, turkey sausage, quinoa, tons of ground turkey, along with fruits and veggies.

I didn’t realize he was such a clean eater.

The things you learn about someone when you live together.

I almost wince at that thought.

He unpacks all the ingredients, spreading them out on the counter.

“Do you need any help?” Not that I would know where to begin.

He shakes his head. “Nope. Why don’t you sit down and keep me company while I throw everything together.”

I settle on the chair as he moves around the kitchen with ease. He might not be familiar with mine in particular and where everything is stored, but that doesn’t seem to matter. He places a large pan on the stove and ignites the burner. When it’s hot, he adds the chicken sausage and breaks it up into smaller pieces with a wooden spoon. Then he fills an oversized pot with water and adds a few shakes of salt to it before setting it to boil.

There’s something soothing about watching Colby cook. Now that he’s preoccupied, I’m able to stare at him to my heart’s content. My gaze drops to his hands as he chops a few bulbs of garlic before adding it to the meat and stirring. Once the chicken sausage has browned, he adds a large can of organic tomato sauce to the pan and sets it to simmer before cracking two eggs in a bowl and then adding them to a ricotta mixture.

The guy is definitely skilled with his hands.

As that thought tumbles through my head, I gulp and force my attention away. It wouldn’t take much to get used to him in my space.

And that’s the last thing I want.

We weren’t meant for the long haul.

Sadness flares to life inside me before I snuff it out.

I’m pulled from the tangle of my thoughts when he says, “You mentioned that your family is now in California. Where’d you live before that?”

I blink and refocus my attention. Even though I don’t like talking about my past, it’s better than dwelling on the lifespan of this marriage.

“Actually, it wasn’t that far from here.”

He glances at me in surprise. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“Do you have family in the area? Is that why you decided to attend Western?”

I clear my throat and admit something I probably should’ve earlier. “I do.” There’s a pause before I confess, “Sully.”

This time, he stops and swings toward me in surprise. “Sully? The owner of Slap Shotz?”

A smile quirks the corners of my lips. “The one and only.”

“I didn’t know that. Is he your uncle?”

When he continues to stare, I pop to my feet and beeline to the cabinet for a glass before filling it with cold water from the fridge. “Yeah. Guess I forgot to mention it earlier.”

My mind unconsciously tumbles back to all the times I was desperate for a break and showed up unannounced on his doorstep.

“Are you two close?”

I nod. “We are. He and Aunt Mary are great. They never had children, so they kind of treat me like one.” No matter how much time slips by, when we’re together, it’s comfortable and easy. I trust them implicitly.

It took years to realize just how precious those kinds of relationships are. When you have fame, people behave differently toward you. They stop treating you like a person.

And you become more of an object.

Something to be coveted.

To my knowledge, Uncle Sully has never told a soul that Bebe is his niece or that he’s even acquainted with her.

“How come you didn’t stay with them for at least the first semester? Maybe then you would have met someone to live with.”

I shrug. “They offered, but I wanted my own space. And I didn’t want to cramp their style. They’re used to being on their own.” And so am I.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of us as he stirs the sauce and adds the noodles to the boiling pot. For the first time since moving into the apartment, the place is filled with delicious scents. My belly growls in response.

“Everyone on the team loves Sully,” Colby adds. “He’s the best.”

My lips lift into a genuine smile as everything inside me loosens. From the few times I’ve hung out with the girls at the bar, that much is obvious. He has a lot of love for the team, and they return it tenfold.

“He’s easy to get along with.”

There’s a pause as he changes the subject. “So, tell me what kind of meals your parents made growing up.”

It’s tempting to bark out a laugh.

As a kid, we didn’t get a lot of homecooked dinners. Mom is a lot of things, but a Michelin-star chef is not one of them. As soon as we could afford it, she hired a private chef. I was usually working or traveling, so I missed out. Uncle Sully and Aunt Mary are amazing and sometimes send over leftovers, but that doesn’t happen nearly often enough.

“Um, I guess the normal kind of stuff like spaghetti⁠—”

He glances at me while stirring the sauce. “From a jar?”

My lips tremble at the disgust woven through his voice. “Of course.”

He shakes his head. “That’s practically child abuse.”

“Um, I don’t think so. And tacos.”

“Can I assume there were a lot of taco Tuesdays in your past?”

“And sometimes Thursdays and Sundays.”

“So, you like Mexican?”

“Even though we ate a ton of it as a kid, I do. It’s definitely a comfort food.”

His expression turns thoughtful. “Noted. The way to your heart is through tacos.”

I snort, wanting to disabuse him of the notion.

Except…he’s probably not wrong.

“Have you been to Taco Loco?” he asks.

I rack my memory. “No, I don’t think so.”

“We’ll have to go sometime. You know, when we have date night. They have the best Tacos in town. Maybe even in the state.”

“That’s a pretty big claim.”

“It’s one I stand firmly behind.” He drains the noodles in a strainer set in the sink. “What else?”

“Macaroni and hot dogs. Chicken nuggets. Sometimes grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“My stomach hurts just thinking about eating all that.”

“Yeah. Not exactly the dinners of champions, is it?”

“Nope. What about when you were older?”

I take another drink of water before setting the glass down on the table. “Once we could afford it, Mom hired a private chef to cook for us or we ate out.”

“You’ve mentioned your mom a couple times. What about your dad?” His gaze flickers to me as he layers the noodles, ricotta mixture, and meat sauce. “Are you close to him?”

Nerves skitter across my flesh, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

It’s important to tread carefully while talking about my parents.

“Yeah, I am.” I pause for a moment to collect my thoughts. “My father is a good man. More of the strong silent type. Lowkey. He’s happy to allow my mom to make all the decisions and then go along with whatever she says. She has a strong personality, and he doesn’t really challenge her.”

The few times he tried, she steamrolled right over him.

“Interesting.”

His brows draw together as he concentrates on layering the lasagna before sprinkling the top with mozzarella and sliding it into the oven. Then he sets the timer on his phone.

“Now we wait an hour and fifteen minutes.”

I glance at the clock on my phone. “Will you have enough time to eat before practice?”

“Probably not. I’ll have some when I get back. After two hours on the ice, I’ll be starving.”

He slides onto a chair before peppering me with questions about my childhood. When they turn to the not-so-distant past, I decide to ask a few of my own.

“Tell me more about your family. Your parents seem great. Really accepting of the decisions you make. Even when you shock the hell out of them.” That’s what impressed me most.

His expression softens. “They’re amazing. When I was younger, my dad was on the road a lot and my mom always held down the fort, making sure that we had a stable home. Her kids always came first.”

My heart clenches with envy.

“When Dad was gone, she’s the one who schlepped me to the rink five days a week with all my siblings in tow.” He smirks. “It was pretty much their second home.”

“Are you all still close?”

He nods. “Yup. I’m sure my brothers will follow in my footsteps and play here at Western.”

“And your sister?”

“She’s an equestrian.”

“Sounds like your upbringing was pretty idyllic.”

I’m even more envious than before.

He shrugs as a flash of darkness enters his eyes. “It was. But having a father who played in the NHL and then worked in broadcasting isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Oh?”

For the first time, he’s the one who breaks eye contact. A heavy silence falls over us as he gets tangled in his thoughts.

I reach out and lay my hand over his. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want. Whatever happened in the past isn’t any of my business.”

He draws a deep breath into his lungs before forcing it out again. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re my wife, and I want you to have a better understanding of me.” He jerks his shoulders. “Maybe this’ll help.”

Instead of asking questions, I squeeze his hand, just wanting him to know that he’s not alone.

“When you’re famous or related to someone who’s a professional athlete, people try to get close to you or want things from you. It’s something that was really driven home to me in high school. Although looking back, I think I was always cognizant of it.”

I clear my throat. He has no idea how close to home this hits. “I can imagine.”

“You have to be careful and constantly question people’s motives. Even when you’ve known someone for years.” His brows pinch together. “Guess I kind of forgot that. When I was a senior in high school, I started dating this girl.”

His lips quirk at the corners and it’s so tempting to tease him because I’m shocked that he’s gone out with anyone. But there’s something about his tone that keeps me silent.

“We attended the same school and had the same circle of friends. We hung out a few times by ourselves and she’d show up to all my games. After about a month or so, I asked her to be my girlfriend, and for a while, everything was cool. Even though I liked her, I knew that we wouldn’t attend the same college. We both agreed that it didn’t make sense to stay together after senior year.” His tongue darts out to moisten his lips. “It was important that we were both on the same page. I didn’t want to go away as a freshman and have a long-distance relationship. Not with the pressure of hockey looming over me.”

He pauses.

The question shoots out of my mouth before I can stop it. “What happened?”

A mix of emotions crosses his face. Anger. Sadness. Embarrassment. “A few months before graduation, she told me that she was pregnant.”

My eyes widen and I bite my lower lip to keep all the questions trapped inside as I wait for him to continue.

“I was upset about the situation but mostly, I felt bad that I was careless and allowed this to happen. I knew my parents would be disappointed. That conversation was probably the most difficult one I’ve ever had with them.”

I squeeze his hand, wanting to bring him back to the present. I can tell that he’s getting lost in the memories.

“I bet.”

“My mom called Anna’s parents right away, wanting them to know that they would pay for whatever was needed for her and the baby. It was important to them to be involved.” His lips quirk. “Mom was great. She told me that we’d figure out everything together and that I wasn’t in this alone.”

“Your mom sounds pretty amazing.” Not all parents would react that way. It’s doubtful my own would.

His lips quirk slightly. “She is.”

If Colby ever mentioned having a child, I’m pretty sure I’d remember it.

And he hasn’t.

So that can only mean…

“Over the course of two or three months, my parents shelled out somewhere around a hundred thousand dollars because her family didn’t have insurance. Her dad kept pressuring me to set a date and marry Anna, even though we were seniors in high school. He said that they didn’t care about a big, fancy wedding.” He drags a hand through his hair. “A baby was one thing. Getting married after just turning eighteen was another.”

“That’s a difficult situation to be in when you’re just a kid yourself.”

“Yeah. They really applied a lot of pressure. They threatened to go to the news outlets if we didn’t give them more money and set a date. Anna missed a lot of school, and I didn’t see much of her. I figured it was because she didn’t feel good. Morning sickness and stuff like that. So, one night, I decided to stop by her house. Her parents weren’t home, and she didn’t really want to let me inside. But I said that we had to talk. I needed to see her and get everything hashed out. I was tired of her parents calling all the shots and making unrealistic demands. Even though she was scared, she agreed. She looked terrible. Pale and thinner than I remembered. After I told her that I’d marry her if that’s what she really wanted, she broke down and said that she wasn’t pregnant. That she’d never been pregnant.”

My eyes widen as my hand flies to my mouth. “No!”

Air leaks from his lungs until he looks deflated. “Yeah. Her parents put her up to it. They saw it as an easy way to make some cash and set their family up for life.”

“Oh god, Colby. That’s so terrible. I can’t believe something like that happened to you.”

“It was a really fucked-up situation. After that, I pulled back and evaluated everyone in my life and whether they could be trusted. It was a tough lesson to learn.”

It’s so tempting to come clean and admit that I understand exactly what he’s talking about. People have tried to use me, and it always hurts because, in the end, it only reinforces that your worth is tied to what you’re able to do for someone. How much you’re willing to give them. It’s disheartening.

Instead, I slip around the table and pull him into my arms. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“Thanks. I spent some time after that working with a therapist because I was really pissed off and depressed. It just felt like my trust had been broken and I wasn’t sure there was a way to repair the damage.”

Guilt mushrooms up inside me.

“It’s understandable that you would feel that way. It’s so important to talk about what’s going on deep inside instead of pretending it doesn’t exist.”

“Yup, that’s what I learned.” There’s a moment of silence as he pulls away enough to search my eyes. “This isn’t a subject I’ve ever discussed with anyone else besides my family and therapist. But I wanted you to know. It just felt…important.”

His brutal honesty is like a gut punch.

I need to tell him the truth.

My tongue darts out to moisten my lips. Before I can work up the nerve, the timer beeps, interrupting our conversation.

I take a step in retreat as he rises to his feet before snagging two mitts from the counter and pulling the pan from the oven. The cheese is perfectly browned as he sets it on the stove to cool.

As delicious as the aroma is, my appetite has vanished. I don’t think I could eat a single bite. “It smells really good.”

“I promise that it’ll taste even better,” he says, the heaviness of our previous conversation fading.

I slip back onto my chair before squeezing my eyelids tightly shut. It’s only when I sense his presence that I force them open and find him hunkered down in front of me. He reaches out and cups my cheek with one large palm. Solemnity fills his blue depths.

“I’m going to take such good care of you that you’ll never want to get loose.”

After what he just divulged, it’s shocking that he’s not the one searching for a way out.

Even though he hasn’t admitted it, my guess is that he’s still affected by what happened in high school.

In only makes me feel worse than I already do.

When I remain silent, he searches my eyes. “Nothing to say?”

I shake my head. A thick lump gets lodged in my throat, making it impossible to breathe.

He presses close enough to ghost his lips over mine. Neither of us close our eyes. Instead, they stay locked on each other.

“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to coming home tonight.” His voice drops. “To my wife.”

Warmth blooms in my chest before spreading outward. There’s no way to stop it from seeping into every cell of my being.

“I better get moving. If I’m late, Coach will have us skating suicides.” He grimaces before pressing his mouth against mine. “After I get back, I’m going to enjoy that lasagna. I’ll also enjoy hearing you tell me how damn good it was.” His lips hover over mine again. “And then I’m going to enjoy eating your pussy before sliding deep inside it until you shudder around my cock, milking it until there’s nothing left to give.”

I drag a shaky breath into my lungs.

He pulls back enough to search my expression before his lips lift into a smirk. “You gonna come nice for me, sweet girl?”

Oh god.

I melt into a puddle every time he calls me that.

I clear my throat and attempt to fight my way out of the Colby-induced haze that has descended.

It’s not easy. Especially after what he confided. It would be impossible not to have a better understanding of who the man I married is.

“Maybe. Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

A chuckle slides from his lips. “You’re adorable when you’re trying to appear unruffled.” The fingers of his other hand settle on the vee between my legs before applying enough pressure to get my attention.

I gulp.

“How much do you want to bet that little pussy is already soaked?”

It’s not a wager I’d be willing to take.

From the smirk on his handsome face, he knows it.

Is all but reveling in it.

Heat flares in his eyes as he strokes my slit through my jeans. I don’t realize that I’ve widened my legs until he cups my heat. I should be embarrassed by how easily he’s able to turn me on, but I’m way too aroused to care.

“Colby.” His name comes out sounding more like a whimper.

“What, sweet girl? What do you need?”

Everything.

Everything he’s willing to give.

“Bet you’d like to come, wouldn’t you?”

My teeth scrape across my lower lip. “Yes,” I admit.

His fingers continue to circle, stroking over my clit with every pass. My muscles coil tight with anticipation.

He leans forward, nipping my lower lip with sharp teeth before sucking the plump flesh into his mouth and then releasing it with a soft pop. “Unfortunately, I gotta go.”

When his hands fall away and he straightens to his full height, I gasp. “You’re just going to leave me?”

A mixture of heat and humor simmers in his eyes as he jerks his thumb toward the door. “Yeah. Gotta get to practice. But don’t worry, I’ll be back to take care of what I started in a couple of hours.”

“Are you being serious?”

“Yup. I already told you that I can’t be late.”

With that, he swings away, sauntering out of the kitchen and picking up his duffle. As he walks past the doorway again, he flashes a shit-eating grin as if proud of his handiwork.

My jaw is still on the floor.

I can’t believe that he fired me all up and then…

And then…

Just walked away!

It’s tempting to throw something at his head.

“Oh, and wifey?” There’s a beat of silence. “Don’t you dare touch that sweet little pussy before I get back. You might not have realized it, but all your orgasms belong to me now,” he calls out before closing the door behind him, leaving me alone.

As the silence settles around me, I realize just how turned on I am and how quiet it is in the apartment without him breathing life into the place.

Argh!

I drag a hand through my hair and force out an unsteady breath. It’s the delicious scent of cheese, noodles, and sauce that penetrates the thick haze that has fallen over me. Instead of sitting here and stewing, I force myself to pull out a dish and cut a small section from the pan.

Steam rises from the square as I slide it onto my plate and resettle at the table. With the side of my fork, I cut through the layers before raising my utensil to blow on it. When it’s cooled, I slide the piece into my mouth.

That one taste is all it takes for my eyelids to feather close as I savor the medley of flavors.

Oh.

My.

God.

He’s right.

This is delicious.

Damn him.

He really is a man of many talents.