While I was thankful for the reprieve, I wanted my legal status with Dillon handled.

  I’d only briefly spoken with Keelie, thanks to my parents’ visit, and Millie was still not responding to my messages. I was getting worried about my bestie, but I had more pressing issues. Like what Keelie and Naomi would say about my rushed marriage to Maxim. Those two women who were fast becoming not just my friends but my family, and I cared about their approval. I inhaled sharply and rang the bell.

  Blade sat politely at my feet. Even his tongue was in his mouth, as if he understood the importance of not messing up this moment.

  “Hey there, girl,” Keelie squealed when she opened the door. By her blown-out pupils and loopy grin I was pretty sure she and Naomi had already been into whatever alcohol Naomi had brought with her.

  “Hi,” I said with more enthusiasm than was necessary, causing Keelie to cock her head at me, a frown piercing the soft skin between her eyebrows. “What’s got you in such a weird mood?”

  I stepped inside the house with Blade at my side, and Keelie stumbled back as she realized I had the dog with me. I’d told her I was bringing my dog and she’d been fine with it.

  “You call that a dog?” she squawked, pointing an accusatory finger at Blade.

  “Um…”

  “And is that your wedding ring?” Naomi screamed from where she’d turned around on the couch. She pointed at my diamond-encrusted wedding band. “Wait, what the fuck is that?”

  Blade stood by my side, his fur caressing my leg. “This is Blade.” I trailed off, not sure if I wanted to say he was a wedding present. It made sense to Maxim and to me, but would other people understand? “I traded him for the security guards. He comes everywhere with me,” I finished lamely with a shrug.

  Naomi and Keelie both shied back. “I haven’t had that much to drink. So, that animal has gotta be real?” Naomi whispered from her spot on the couch and lifted wide eyes to Keelie, seeming to need reassurance.

  “Blade. His name is Blade. He’s a Tibetan Mastiff.”

  “No shit.” Naomi took a long pull of her drink. “That didn’t help. Still fucking huge. Omigod! His teeth.” Naomi shrieked, hunkering down lower on the couch so just her eyes and hair were visible above the cushion.

  “I didn’t think to lock Slippers away,” Keelie moaned, already mourning the loss of her cat as it stalked across the hardwoods, tail straight up and ears back. Keelie moved forward but stopped at the low rumble that emanated from Blade’s chest.

  I’d been so wrapped up in everything that happened over the past few days and telling my friends about my marriage, I’d completely overlooked the very important detail that Keelie had a cat…a cat who was sure she ran the world. This house was her dominion, and she had Keelie and Cormac bending to her indomitable will.

  “I don’t know if he’ll behave around a cat,” I blurted, starting to hyperventilate. I tugged on his collar. “Let’s go, Blade.”

  “My baby,” Keelie whispered as Slippers narrowed her pretty cat eyes and sauntered closer.

  “Blade isn’t going to bother Slippers. Are you, Blade?” I decided that was my best option since I couldn’t budge the dog, who’d planted his butt on the hardwood and stared with intense focus at the cat.

  “Right, Blade?” My voice was unnaturally high.

  The cat’s back arched, and she flattened her ears even tighter to her head, her tiny fangs bared. Blade dropped into a crouch, butt up in the air, tail drooping over his back. He bared his much larger fangs.

  “I can’t look,” Naomi cried as she buried her face in the couch cushion.

  “Slippers. Come here!” Keelie sang, but her voice was tight with fear.

  “Blade, you leave that cat alone,” I said, terror pouring off me as I continued to tug at his collar. I’d forgotten all his commands, so he ignored me. I shook my hands in front of me. “Don’t show fear,” I repeated the mantra the trainer had told me. “That will engage his protective instincts. I’m calm. I’m so freaking calm right now.” My voice was shrill, and I could barely make out my own words. “We’re calm, Blade. Let’s back away from Keelie’s kitty. Please. Sweet baby Jesus. Back. Away.”

  Slippers swiped her paw. “She doesn’t even have claws,” Keelie whimpered. She held her middle, shaking, mouth hanging open.

  “Is it over?” Naomi called. She lifted her head. “Fuck. The suspense. Make it stop!” She shoved her head back into the couch and drew another pillow over her head.

  Slippers hissed again as she launched herself at Blade.

  Keelie screamed. I moaned as I brought my fingertips to my lips.

  Blade rolled over while the cat was in midair. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as Slippers nipped and kneaded her way down the dog’s chest. She began to purr as she nuzzled into his fur. Blade wrapped a paw around Slippers, cuddling her closer.

  Keelie crumpled to the ground, gaping like a fish. I leaned my butt against the wall as my hands landed on my knees. My heart pounded like I’d sprinted a marathon. Keelie started to laugh-cry, which made me giggle-sob.

  “Oh, shit! Is there blood? I barf when there’s blood,” Naomi wailed into the pillow. “It’s awful. I want to look, but then I’ll hurl. Can I look?”

  She lifted her head and cracked her eye open, even as her face maintained a look of utter horror. “They’re…playing? You bitches didn’t tell me?”

  “We…didn’t know…” I gasped, then hiccupped.

  “She loves him. He loves her,” Keelie wailed from the floor. “They’re besties. Just like us.” She crawled over to me on her hands and knees and threw her arms around me. We held each other as we cried. Naomi grabbed her wine glass and downed the entire thing.

  “Y’all suck.” She belched behind her hand—quietly, as a lady does. Then she got a refill. “I’m staying here tonight because after that shit.” She pointed at the purring cat and loll-mouthed dog. “I need at least a bottle of this nerve-calmer.”

  “I married Maxim,” I blurted.

  “We know.” Naomi stared for a minute, then gave a tight nod. She filled her glass to the brim and took a long swallow.

  “Congrats,” she rasped.

  “Great! So excited for you both, P-pour me a glass,” Keelie said. “Ida Jane, too.” She swiped at her wet cheeks. “I can’t stop shaking.”

  “Well, the game can’t top that tension,” I said. “Can it?”

  Maxim

  The next few weeks passed quickly, thanks to the hectic hockey schedule, getting Ida Jane moved in and officially a Dolov, and fielding more queries from immigration enforcement. The guys started coming over a couple, sometimes three times, each week to eat dinner with us, which was fun. I enjoyed getting to know Mac, Cruz, and the rest of the guys—and their partners—on a deeper level.

  Even with the strain of Maurice’s final decision hanging over my head, I was happier than I’d ever been…except for the vivid nightmares I had of Dillon hurting Ida Jane. One from last night had stuck with me all day, leaving me clammy.

  It had been so frightening, and so real. I hated every second of it.

  Dillon wrapped his hand around Ida Jane’s throat, choking off her ability to scream—and her airflow. “You don’t get to embarrass me, cunt,” Dillon hissed, his nose touching Ida Jane’s. Her nails scraped his skin, and one snapped as it dug into his hand. He tightened his grip, unaware of my approach.

  “I tell you what to do. I made you. You were nothing before me. Nothing. And you’re nothing now that I don’t want you.”

  “Let her go,” I bellowed, trying to reach Ida Jane, but I couldn’t span the distance between us.

  Dillon whipped his head toward me, eyes widening. “What the fuck is it with you? This is between Ida and me.”

  I advanced, my pace measured, making sure Dillon wasn’t crushing Ida’s windpipe.

  If he did… Rage billowed through me, my muscles seeming to swell. I wouldn’t let that happen.

  “No, you just assaulted a woman. That makes it between any decent person and you.”

  “And you’re decent?” Dillon sneered. “I know about your past, man. The orgies, the fights. You’re nothing but a bully on the ice. The asshole the rest of the guys use to do their dirty work. You’re just like me—worse. So, walk away, Dolov.”

  “Maxim,” Ida Jane said. Her voice was raspy, her throat clearly damaged. “I can’t breathe…”

  I arrived early to pick Ida Jane up, unable to stay away from her any longer. I made paper airplanes for some of the kids while she finished her therapy session and some paperwork. The moment Blade and I arrived home, we splayed out on the couch—yeah, I was that dog owner—while Ida Jane made me more apple butter. I ate it on toast, in oatmeal, even by the spoonful. Something about the spices made me feel warm, like a hug from food. Weird as that was, I loved the taste and the feeling, and Ida Jane seemed happy to make it for me.

  Blade turned his head from his position and moaned. Houston was in a heat wave, fairly common for any time of year, but the dog and I hated the high temperatures paired with the high humidity. I turned the fan up to high and sprawled out in gym shorts and a tank top. The dog was on his back, legs flopped open to get more coolness on his hot junk—I understood because mine was sweating.

  Much as I wanted to lower the temperature in the house, which had been my only big splurge before getting married, I couldn’t do that to Ida Jane, who seemed to enjoy the warmer temperatures. So Blade and I moaned from the couch, and she brought us icy drinks—in the dog’s case, ice—which we slurped up.

  Ida Jane settled next to me on the side opposite Blade and thumbed through the mail. “Ooh!” She waved the envelope in the air, grinning. “I know what this is,” she said.

  “Open it.” I sat up, excitement sizzling through my system, my heat sensitivity forgotten.

  She pulled out a new blue card inset in a larger piece of paper. Her name: Ida Jane Barlow Dolov was printed in bold black type. I stared at it for a moment, letting reality sink in. We were married. It was legal at the government level now. Maurice Lambert would now have a much harder time deporting me.

  I tugged her into my arms, wrapping them around her.

  “We’re official,” I said against her lips as I kissed her. Because why wouldn’t I? Kissing Ida Jane was one of my favorite past times. My favorite one was sliding inside her body, but I enjoyed snuggling and taking walks with her, too.

  She kissed me back. “Indeed. And you’re legally mine.” She laughed at my confusion.

  I traced her cheekbone. The bruising had disappeared, and Ida Jane looked gorgeous with her dewy, smooth skin.

  “I’ve been yours since we met, Fists.” She didn’t understand how true that was. I was afraid to tell her just how much she meant to me.

  I’d been so sure I could get married and not let my feelings get involved. But with Ida Jane, I couldn’t resist—couldn’t help but adore her.

  She dropped her head against my chest and belly laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I can’t believe I wooed you by standing up to another man.”

  That reminded me of my dream. Tension twisted through my guts. He was out there, and I was sure he was plotting.

  “Assertiveness is incredibly hot.” I grabbed her hand and placed it on the growing bulge between my splayed legs. “See?”

  “Oh, I feel it all right.” She traced my length, making my head spin with desire.

  “That feels so good. I lose my mind when you touch me.”

  “Just what every woman wants to hear her man say.” She peppered my cheek with kisses while I relaxed deeper into the couch.

  “Don’t stop,” I said, breathless.

  “I think I need to prove that you’re mine, Maxim Dolov,” she whispered before she nipped at my ear lobe.

  “Don’t need to prove anything,” I panted. “I am. Fuck. Don’t stop. Feels good. So good.”

  She slipped her hand inside my gym shorts and briefs, and I groaned as her fingers wrapped around my girth.

  “Want inside you.”

  She sighed but kept up the tugging on my dick. “I have my period.”

  “Don’t care. Get naked.”

  She sat back, eyes wide. “You still want—”

  I scooped her up so quickly she squealed. Blade lifted his head from his bed but grunted and closed his eyes. The dog had gotten used to me manhandling his human—I did it a lot because we both liked it.

  I brought her to the master bathroom and set her down in front of the shower’s entrance. I had one of those showers where three walls were tiled and the opening on the fourth was far enough away from the showerheads to not need a door. Ida Jane called it luxe, but I called it easier to clean.

  “Get naked and do what you need to do so I can fuck you, Ida Jane Dolov.”

  She stripped off her shirt, as I turned on the water.

  Twenty minutes later, we were boneless and clean.

  “I like celebrating things with you,” I mumbled into her wet hair.

  She turned in my arms, set down her hairbrush, and hugged me tightly. “I like it, too.”

  “Have you talked to Millie?” I asked. I’d asked her often, but she always shook her head and worry seeped into her expression.

  “Not since she told me she was heading to the hospital last week. If she really has that local fever…” She raised her eyebrows, knowing I knew the name.

  “Dengue.”

  “If she had that, she should be better by now, right?”

  “The website said up to seven days.”

  “It’s been six,” she said.

  “So, call her again.” I fiddled with my towel, unsure if I should mention that Stol had been texting Millie, too. And she wasn’t answering him, either.

  Chapter 18

  Ida Jane

  I tried calling but didn’t manage to get in touch with Millie—again. Worry built each time I thought of my friend, but I couldn’t make her answer my messages.

  I just had to hope she was well enough to do so soon. I closed my laptop and lay back, staring up at the ceiling.

  “How would you feel about having your brother’s football team come to a game?” Maxim said as he stepped out of the closet. I knew what he was doing in there: looking at the dress I’d just bought for a gala benefiting local children’s charities we were supposed to attend in a couple of weeks. Maxim didn’t like surprises, even in the form of dresses, probably because of his sister. And I wouldn’t make the situation more difficult by scolding him for looking. He had every right to look and be settled and happy in our relationship.

  “My brother? You mean Amos?” I settled on my side and peered at him.

  “Yeah. He texted me, said a bunch of his buddies would like to come down for the game tomorrow night—are you good with that?”

  “Um, sure, if you are.” I nibbled my lip. “Does that mean they’ll stay with us?”

  Maxim settled his hip next to my belly and brushed my hair off my neck so he could kiss the spot. “I asked him that, and he said yeah. There are four of them. Sound okay?”

  How could I not love this man? He was so generous with my family, always giving. I touched his cheek as tenderness welled inside me.

  “I’d like that. You’re making memories with my family.”

  His grin took my breath away, just as it always did. I needed to do something for Maxim. Something special that no one else could. For now, I fell into his kiss as his lips settled over mine.

  “Want to mess around before dinner?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

  I laughed. “Well, considering we already did, maybe we can call this dessert before dinner.”

  Maxim crawled over me, caging me between his thick arms and muscular thighs. “Mmm. You always taste sweet.”

  Amos’s sandy hair fell into his eyes, and his face was full of youthful joy. “Hockey’s awesome!” he yelled over the cheering crowds.

  It was when the Wildcatters were winning. “Sure is.” I sought out Maxim, who’d been trading hits with an opposing player all game. I winced as that player slammed Maxim into the boards with a shoulder into his back.

  “Oof. And people say football’s brutal,” Amos’s friend said.

  “Hey, is that Dillon?” Amos whispered in my ear.

  “What? Where?”

  My ex-boyfriend stood a few feet away, on the steps, glaring at me. A woman with a noticeable pregnancy bump tugged on his sleeve. Dillon’s expression turned angrier by the moment. The fans seemed to gasp collectively, and I turned back in time to see Maxim skating toward us—me—away from the play on the ice. A confused player trailed him, but then Naese slammed the puck down the ice—toward Maxim. His attention seemed split for a moment before he refocused on the game and corralled the puck. He flicked his stick and managed to flutter the puck into the back of the net a moment before the defender slammed into him. Maxim kept his gaze on me, seeming to ask if I was okay. I nodded, eyes so wide I felt that they may never shut again.

  Amos and his pals cheered along with the rest of the fans, but I continued to look at Maxim, noticing his wince and the ferocious scowl he tossed at Dillon, who remained in the aisle.

  Unlike the Green Card issue, which wasn’t officially closed but pretty much handled thanks to our legal team and our marriage, Dillon remained a problem. And if Maxim’s reaction was an indicator, he considered Dillon a big one.

  Maxim

  I heard Millie’s voice as I stepped out of the closet.

  I’d showered later than usual, needing a few extra moments to groan internally at my bruised ribs and back. I should have been paying more attention to the game. Everyone thought I’d made a smart move with the breakaway, but the moment I’d seen Dillon, I hadn’t cared about the game or anything but Ida Jane’s safety.

  “It wasn’t Dengue fever. I’m pregnant,” Millie whispered.