Pucked Off (The Pucked Series)

by Helena Hunting

  “What the fuck, Romance?” Randy asks when I enter.

  “Huh?” I drop my bag beside him.

  “Thanks for letting us know you weren’t coming to get us.” Miller slams his locker shut.

  “Oh, shit.” I totally forgot I was supposed to pick them up for practice. I scramble for a reason because neither of them knows what I was up to last night, or this morning. “I shut off my phone last night ’cause Tash wouldn’t stop messaging me, and I just turned it back on. I totally forgot.”

  Miller scoffs and gives Randy a look. “Tash? What kind of fucking bullshit are you pulling, Romance?” He jams his helmet on and clomps off, red faced.

  “Jesus. What’s his problem?” Things have been less tense since Sunny had the baby, but now he’s pissy with me again. I rush to put on my equipment so I’m not late hitting the ice.

  “Have you checked social media today?” Randy laces up his skates.

  “No. Why? What’s going on?”

  “What do you think? You went out with that Poppy girl and didn’t think it was going to be all over the bunny sites?”

  “Oh, shit.” Now the onslaught of Tash messages makes sense.

  I think about the middle of the night kitchen encounter: me naked, Poppy in just my shirt. Me contemplating how good it would feel to be inside without the condom, assuring her everyone was asleep in her neighborhood. “Is it bad? Like, are there bad pictures?”

  “Depends on what you consider bad, I guess.”

  “Does any of it make Poppy look slutty?”

  Randy strokes his beard and regards me curiously. “No. Not really. I mean, there’s lots of you all up on her.”

  “Up on her how?”

  “Like normal date stuff, I guess.”

  When I give him a blank look, he sighs and looks uncomfortable.

  “Getting all touchy, kissing her, that kind of thing.”

  Oh, thank God. Nothing from the kitchen. “So? I don’t get what the problem is.” The locker room is emptying fast, and Randy and I are getting looks.

  Waters pops his head in. “Let’s go, guys. You needed to be on the ice two minutes ago.”

  “Be right there.” I hurry to tie my laces.

  Randy stands and grabs his helmet and stick. “When was the last time you took a girl out for dinner?”

  I grab my helmet, stick, and gloves. My skates are loose, but we’re out of time. I don’t think taking a girl to The Olive Garden when I was a teenager counts. And that was only once.

  “I don’t know. Never? The last time I took anyone anywhere it was Tash, and that was Waters’ engagement party and the whole team was there, so it wasn’t like an actual date-date or anything. Plus things got kind of fucked up.”

  “Ya think? You lost your shit on her because you thought we hooked up.”

  “Well, she fucks everybody, so it was highly plausible.”

  “Pot, kettle, dude.”

  “You think I like being like this?” I snap.

  Randy’s eyes go wide as he opens the door to the ice.

  “I just wanted to be with her. I kept telling her that, but all she wanted to do was screw with my head. She was the one who kept bringing me girls like they were fucking gifts.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “It wasn’t my idea; it was hers.”

  Randy looks floored by this information. “Seriously?”

  “Unfortunately, yeah. They were her way of saying I wasn’t enough, I guess.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”

  “What was I gonna say? That I hate the shit I did for her, but I didn’t know how to make it any other way?”

  “But the Tash situation wasn’t isolated.”

  “Until her it wasn’t common, though.”

  He frowns. “What do you mean it wasn’t common? You’re legendary.”

  “Things get blown out of proportion a lot. You know that.”

  He considers that a moment. “So what’s the deal with Poppy then? Why the dinner date all of a sudden?”

  We step out onto the ice together, nab a puck, and start skating, passing it back and forth.

  “Because she’s different—and not the way I thought Tash was different—like, really different. Good different. I want to spend time with her, real time.” I sound like a fucking idiot.

  Randy fumbles the puck a bit, but recovers and slides it to me. “Like an actual relationship?”

  “Yeah, man. Like what you and Lily have. I think I want that. I got Poppy to agree to two dates, and I don’t want to fuck this up. And not just because she can’t be my massage therapist anymore. I for real want this girl. Like, I need to keep her. That sounds wrong, but this morning when I realized I didn’t have anything set up with her, I got, like, panicky. So I made another date for tonight.”

  “Wow. Okay. You’re seriously serious.”

  “Aye. So this bunny shit, I can’t have it messing with things.”

  “But you can see why the bunnies are gossiping, right?”

  “Because I took some girl out for dinner?”

  “It’s a big deal in the bunnysphere. You’re a fucking legend, Romero, even if you don’t want to be.”

  I overshoot the puck, but he’s fast enough to catch it before it gets away from him.

  Not once did I consider how the bunnydom would react to me taking a girl out for dinner. I also didn’t consider the possibility that people might take pictures and post them. But I should’ve, because I’ve seen all this bullshit before. Back when Miller was first dating Sunny, back when Randy was still pretending he and Lily were just “having fun.”

  “Remember all the nasty messages Lily got when she moved in with me, and we’d been together for, like, months? The bunnies are fucking crazy half the time, Lance. They’re gonna be all over this.”

  “Is it bad like that already?” I ask.

  “You gotta go check your page. That’s where all the shit is going to be. It’s the comments, man. You know how the bunnies are. Does Poppy know what it’s going to be like? Especially with your reputation?”

  “Fuck.” I run a hand through my hair. Violet was right. I’m going to have to deal with this a lot sooner than I hoped. “Fuck. What am I gonna do?”

  “Maybe there’s nothing to worry about. I mean, maybe she’s not big on social media stuff.”

  “She’s got all the accounts.”

  He quirks a brow. “You been stalking her?”

  “A little bit.”

  Randy barks out a laugh. But before he can razz me too much, Coach blows the whistle.

  I’m distracted during practice. I still manage not to screw up too much, even though my head is anywhere but on the ice.

  After practice, I get pulled aside by Smart who likes to ride my ass and check in about the fucking massages, which he still makes me get on a pretty regular basis. His talk today is about making sure I’m taking care of myself, but since I haven’t punched anyone out recently, he doesn’t have a reason to lecture me for long.

  I rush through the shower, wrap a towel around my waist, grab my phone, and head for the sauna. I want to see what the hell is going on in the social media world so I can run interference.

  I hit my page first and stop outside the door to the sauna to scroll through the new pictures circulating. Thankfully most of them are from the restaurant. I should’ve known better than to take her to a high-profile place like that. She looks sexy as hell, though, so that’s good. And not in a slutty way. Poppy is classy and classically beautiful.

  There are a bunch of pictures of me with my arm around her, and my lips close to her ear. Randy’s right—I’m all over this girl. And the bunnies are not happy about it.

  Then I see a picture reposted from a year ago. It’s the night Miller, Randy, and I went out to the bar and took a limo home with three girls. One of them is Poppy, although she’s in profile. I’m not touching her, though; my hand is on the waist of a blonde chick—the friend I never slept with.

>   Speculation is flying now. Bunnies are saying I’ve been keeping Poppy a secret all this time. It’s a clusterfuck. I’ll be lucky if she’s still willing to go out with me again after this. If I were her, I’d say fuck it.

  I decide to skip the sauna. Instead I get dressed, say a quick goodbye to the guys in the locker room, and get in my car—which I’m still driving over the Hummer. I stop at my house, since it’s halfway between the gym and Poppy’s work. I still have the flowers and candy I forgot to bring with me last night. I don’t really have a plan. I want to make sure I’ll still get to see Poppy tonight and that I haven’t fucked this up.

  It’s after four when I get to the clinic. I put on my best smile when I see Bernadette at the receptionist desk. Her eyes light up.

  “Oh! Hi!” She takes in the flowers and box of candy in my hand. “Is Poppy expecting you? I didn’t think she had any more clients booked today.”

  I’ve had to cancel all my appointments with her, but maybe the receptionist lady doesn’t know yet. “She doesn’t. She isn’t. Is she busy?”

  “Her last client left a few minutes ago. I think she’s still in her room.”

  “Great, thanks.” I head down the hall. The door’s ajar. I’m about to knock, but it’s open a crack, so I can see inside. Low music is playing, some upbeat dance stuff. Poppy shimmies around the room, humming away. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail. I want her to wear it like that the next time we have sex.

  Which I hope might be tonight. Depending on how this goes.

  I slip into the room, closing the door behind me with a quiet click. Poppy jumps and turns, gasping when she sees me.

  “Lance.” She brings her hand to her lips, and then it flutters around. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes move to the flowers.

  “I uh—” I hold out the flowers and candy. “I wanted to give you these. I forgot them at home yesterday and—yeah, so here.”

  “Um. Thanks?” It comes out a question, most likely because I’m acting like a fucking weirdo. I wonder if this is the kind of thing Violet was talking about with Waters when they first started dating.

  “Have you been online much today?” I blurt.

  “Uh, no. I haven’t had time. Why?”

  Of course she hasn’t had time. She’s been working. I have no idea what I should say to her, other than don’t look at any of my feeds for the next couple of days, which is like telling an addict not to take the hit of heroin sitting in front of him.

  “Lance? Is something wrong?”

  Shit. I’m just standing here, staring. “Some, uh, pictures showed up on social media today.”

  Her hand flutters to her throat, her delicate throat that I want to kiss and nuzzle and touch again. “What kind of pictures?”

  “Of you and me.”

  “Oh my God.” She sets the flowers on the massage table and drops down on the stool. Her fingers go to her lips. “Oh, God.”

  She’s way more upset about this than I expected. “They’re from the restaurant. It’s gonna happen if you go out with me again. So, like, if it’s a huge problem we could order in next time, or whatever.” I just want to erase the panicked look on her face. Why didn’t I plan the date better?

  Her brow furrows, and she drops her hand. Her lips are turned down, but her frown looks more like a pout. “Wait. So we’re not naked?”

  “What?”

  “The pictures? We’re fully dressed?”

  “Aye. Oh, fuck, you thought I meant naked ones?” I bite my bottom lip to keep from smiling at her sudden relief. It’s not working, though.

  Poppy points a finger. “Don’t you dare laugh at me!”

  “’At’s a dirty mind ya got there, pretty little Poppy.” It comes out heavily accented, which happens sometimes, like my roots can’t stay buried.

  She throws her hands up. “You come barging in here with flowers and candy looking all cagey; what the heck was I supposed to think?”

  My grin breaks free as I round the table and crowd her into a corner. “Did ya think I took naked selfies with ya?”

  “No. I thought some creeper was watching us when we were in the kitchen, but now I have to wonder.”

  “I told ya we were alone.” I move in closer until she’s almost backed into the wall. She’s stopped moving away now. “And I would nae take pictures of ya without yer permission.” I take her hands in mine when she raises them like she’s warding me off. Unfurling them, I press her rigid palms against the sides of my neck.

  Her touch is like crack. It’s only been a few hours, and I’m already jonesing hard. “I’m sorry I freaked you out.”

  “Liar. You’re still smiling.”

  “I’m not lying. I was worried you wouldn’t want to go out with me again.”

  “Do I look like a troll or something in the pictures?”

  “You look gorgeous, too beautiful to be hanging around with someone like me.”

  Poppy scoffs. “If you’re fishing for compliments, it’s not working.”

  “I’m not fishing. I’m being honest.”

  She makes another little noise of disbelief, but her eyes keep darting to my lips.

  “I want to kiss you right now, even though you’re kind of pissed at me. Maybe even because you’re pissed at me.” I lean in and wait to see whether she’s going to tell me off. She’s got a little fire under all that precious. It’s the redhead in her.

  “I might bite you.”

  “I might like it.”

  That gets a smile out of her. “Go ahead then.”

  “Want or let?” I whisper when my lips are almost touching hers.

  “Want, of course.”

  I touch my lips to hers, the hint of a kiss. “So you’re not upset about the pictures?”

  “I’d have to be an idiot not to expect them. You’re like a celebrity.”

  “I don’t want that kind of thing interfering with me and you. I want to keep you to myself.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Mmm. All mine.” This time I take her mouth, and she parts her lips. It escalates quickly. I don’t remember turning her around and lifting her onto the table. Or wrapping her legs around my waist, but that’s where we end up.

  The rattle of the door freezes us in place.

  “Hey, Poppy? You in here? Why’s the door locked?”

  “That’s April,” Poppy whispers. Then she nips at my lip and does a little hip roll.

  “Want me to tell her to fuck off?”

  She shakes her head like she’s throwing off a daze.

  “You’ll never believe what’s on Insta!” More door rattling.

  “I need to let her in.” Poppy pushes on my chest.

  I step back and shove my hand down the front of my pants to rearrange my now-hard dick so it’s not so obvious. Poppy bites one of her knuckles and hums. She rushes around to open the door.

  April bursts in and slams it behind her. “Check this out!” She holds her phone an inch away from Poppy’s face.

  It’s then that she realizes I’m here. The phone suddenly disappears behind her back. “Oh. Oh, hey, Lance Romero. Number twenty-one for Chicago. Dating my friend Poppy here.”

  I wave. “Hey.”

  “I’ll wait for you—” She thumbs over her shoulder, her eyes darting between us. “—out there.” She bangs into the jamb.

  “You don’t have to leave. I’m about to head out since you girls have dinner plans, yeah?”

  April looks from Poppy to me and then back again, doing some weird thing with her eyebrows.

  Poppy’s cheeks are pink. “We do.”

  “Before I go, can I check out whatever you were gonna show Poppy, massage therapist and girl I kissed in a closet when she was twelve, but said she was fourteen. And whose ponytail I love to pull.” I tug on the end.

  April has this glazed look on her face. She blinks a few times and looks to Poppy as if seeking permission.

  “I guess it’s okay?” Poppy looks uncertain, but April pulls her phone ou
t from behind her back, punches a few buttons and holds it out for me to see.

  I’ve seen a few variations on this picture today. Poppy’s incredibly photogenic, and whoever took the pictures is good with a camera. I’m adjusting the strap of her dress and kissing her shoulder.

  Her head is bowed. The freckles dotting her nose and sprinkling her cheeks make her look soft and innocent. Her lashes almost touch her cheek, and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth. It’s the perfect combination of sexy and sweet.

  “It’s a great picture, isn’t it?” I ask April.

  “It is.”

  “I might need to make it my screensaver.”

  “You should totally do that.” April nods vigorously.

  “Am I allowed to see this, or is it just between the two of you?” Poppy asks.

  “I guess you can see it.” I smile at her slightly annoyed expression.

  I take April’s phone and move in behind Poppy, almost mirroring the pose in the picture. “See how pretty you are?” I whisper in her ear.

  April makes an odd noise. When Poppy and I look at her, she turns it into a cough and looks at the ceiling.

  “At least I don’t look trollish.”

  “You’re perfect.”

  Her smile is as addicting as her touch, but we’re not alone, and we won’t be for a while, so I back it up and pass April her phone, turning back to Poppy. “So I can still come over later?”

  “Sure. If you want to.”

  “Around seven thirty is okay?”

  She glances at April. “That should be good.”

  “Can I stay again?”

  “I actually need to sleep tonight.”

  “Okaaayyy. So I’m going to wait out there for you.” April slips out the door, but leaves it ajar this time.

  “I’ll let you sleep, even if I don’t want to,” I say.

  “I’m not sure I believe you.”

  “I promise.”

  “We’ll see how good you are at keeping promises.”

  “So that’s a yes?”

  “Yes. It’s a yes.”

  I tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear so I can touch her. “Can I steal one more of those sweet kisses before I go?”

  “Just one?”