Puck Love

by Carmen Jenner

  Stella shakes her head and laughs awkwardly. “He’s just full of surprises.”

  “What do you mean, she drove into your mountain?” Adam asks.

  “She almost hit a moose, ran off the road, and just happened to park her car in a snow drift outside my house.” I throw my arm over the back of the couch and casually squeeze Stella’s shoulder. The lights are bright, but I’m pretty sure I can make out the shadowy figure of the ballbuster gesturing wildly for me to can it, or for Stella to slit my throat. It could mean either one, really.

  “You own a house in Banff, right?”

  “Right.”

  Adam’s brows knit together. “But wasn’t Stella supposed to play to a sellout stadium full of people?”

  “I was,” Stella says. “I should have been there, but I—”

  “She was suffering from exhaustion. Out of her mind with worry, and I just happened to be the lucky son-of-a-bitch to find her.”

  “Oh, you can’t say that,” Adam says with a hissing breath.

  “Oh shit. I can’t swear on live TV, eh?” I say, cringing. “Crap. I just did it again.”

  “I’m trying to get him to curb his language.” Stella laughs. “Hasn’t happened yet.”

  “She really is. She’s a great influence on me.”

  “And you? Are you a great influence on her?”

  “He is,” Stella says, and squeezes my knee. “Van was there for me when it felt like no one else was. He hid me away in his cabin; he didn’t have to do that. He didn’t know me at all.”

  “That’s sweet, though I’m sure it wasn’t much of a burden. Am I right, Van?” Adam looks to me for confirmation.

  “Right.” I weigh my hands in front of me. “Spend several weeks with a beautiful, crazy-talented country star or heat up a microwave dinner for one? There wasn’t a whole lot to think about.”

  “I bet.” He smiles smugly. “So, can we expect wedding bells from the two of you in the future?”

  “Woah, moving a little fast aren’t you, Adam? I only just got the woman to take me back.”

  “Surely it’s something you’ve thought about?”

  And that is the thing—I haven’t. I’ve thought about how miserable I was without her, I’ve thought about how much I want her, but I’ve never thought about walking down the aisle.

  “With how fast our worlds move, we’re taking it slow,” Stella says, but her tone is icier than before, and it makes me wonder if she’s thought about it. Surely not? I mean, my guess is that she’s as freaked out by this question as I am, but that’s not what her face says. Her smile is taut, and not at all natural. Jesus, did I just fuck this up completely?

  “Well, we’re out of time, but Stella, Van, thank you for joining us this morning.”

  “Thanks for having us,” I say.

  “Really, thank you.” Stella rewards him with that stunning smile, and I can’t help it. Jealousy kicks me in the nuts. I lean in and kiss her cheek. The cameraman signals an out, the director yells cut, and it’s as if her good mood turns instantly glacial.

  “Thanks for jumping in there, Van. I’m really a big fan.”

  “Thank you.” I shake Adam’s hand and stand up. Stella smiles, and then trudges off the stage toward the ballbuster who does not look any more impressed with me right now than her client does.

  I get asked by a cameraman and a few other crew members to sign autographs, and then ballbuster tells me in no uncertain terms that it’s time to leave. Stella is still all smiles for the crew, and signs a bunch of autographs of her own, but I can tell she’s not happy with me.

  We don’t bother heading to the green room. Instead, we wander through the back of the building and outdoors into the sunny Nashville day before piling into a waiting SUV. I’ve barely had time to close the door before the driver takes off and ballbuster glares at me from the passenger seat.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “What?” I know full well what she means; I just like provoking her. Stella rubs her temple as if she’s fighting off a headache, which I don’t love so much.

  “Don’t you ‘what’ me. You know damn well what.”

  “You’re right, I do,” I agree. “But I don’t answer to you.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  “Yeah. I saved her from humiliating herself on national TV because she didn’t know how to answer questions about us.” I shrug. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

  “Lana, it’s fine,” Stella says.

  “It’s not fine,” Lana snaps. “It’s definitely not fine.”

  “Why? Because all your perfectly planned, fake bullshit backfired?”

  “Fake bullshit?”

  Stella sighs. “Can you just both be quiet please?”

  “Look, baby, I’m sorry. I guess I screwed up.” I take her hand in mine and squeeze. “I shouldn’t have crashed your interview like that.”

  Ballbuster rolls her eyes. “You think?”

  I glare at her, and then glance back at my woman, who isn’t looking at me but out the window. “I just didn’t like seeing you struggle.”

  A half-smile tips the corners of her lips, and then she shakes her head and exhales a noisy breath. I’m just about to kiss her when my phone rings. It’d been switched to silent while they filmed, but it was going off like a damn rocket in my pocket. I fish it out, see Eli’s goofy face on the screen and answer, “Hey man.”

  “Dude, where the fuck have you been? Didn’t you see our flight time has changed?”

  “What? No.”

  “You idiot. I texted about it last night.”

  “Well, I was a little preoccupied last night.”

  “I hope she was worth it, because missing that plane is gonna cost you several grand.”

  Shit. Coach is going to fucking kill me. Images of Stella on her knees, on the floor, the couch, the kitchen counter, and in the tub flash through my mind. My dick stirs, and I look at my little snuggle bunny. “Totally worth it.”

  “Right, well I hope you’ve got enough money saved away for asshole reconstruction surgery, because Coach is gonna tear you a new one if you’re not on this bus in five minutes.”

  “I thought we had time.”

  “Er, no, jackass. If you’d read my messages you’d know we have to be on the tarmac at eleven, so we’re leaving now.”

  “Fuck.” I’m not ready. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to leave Stella.

  “I checked you out of the hotel room. You’re welcome, by the way, but unless you’re already wearing it, you’re gonna have to suit up on the bus, so good luck with that.”

  My suit is currently crumpled up in my bag in the back of this SUV with the rest of the clothes I grabbed from Stella’s before the ballbuster got her panties in another wad about us being late. “Crap. Okay, I’m coming. Just stall him, yeah?”

  “Stall the coach?” Eli asks in disbelief. “Have you met the man?”

  “Just do it. I don’t need him pissed at me, eh?”

  “You better get your ass here now, Ross.”

  “I’m on it.” I hang up and pocket my phone. Fuck. I should have checked my messages last night, but this woman makes me lose my head.

  “What’s the matter?” Stella asks.

  “Can we go to the Hilton Hotel downtown? I got a bus to catch,” I say to the driver. “Sorry. Is that okay?”

  Stella’s face falls. “You’re leaving already?”

  “Yeah, I’m supposed to be boarding a bus to the airport with my teammates. Seems I missed the memo.”

  “Oh no.”

  “If I don’t get there in the next five minutes, I may well be in deep shit.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was worth it.” I take her hand and trail kisses over it. “Every second.”

  Turns out the studio isn’t that far from the hotel, and within six minutes we’re pulling up opposite the bus. I tug Stella into my lap and kiss her deeply.

 
She pulls away and smooths her thumb over my mouth. “You’re ruining my lipstick, and you’re wearing it.”

  “I don’t care,” I say, kissing her again.

  Ballbuster grunts. “Jesus, get a room.”

  “Why get a room when we have a perfectly good backseat here?” I give ballbuster the finger. Stella chuckles as I kiss my way up her arm to her neck and nibble on the sensitive flesh of her earlobe. “I’m gonna miss you so much, baby. My cock is gonna miss you.”

  I set her back on the seat, open the door, and climb out. She follows, and I push her up against the side of the SUV and cover her body with mine. Mostly because I don’t want my asshole teammates to see her in this dress. It doesn’t work, and they hang their heads out the tinted windows like dogs, whistling and shouting shit that they know is going to rile me up. The driver sets my bag on the ground beside us. I zone everyone but Stella out, because I don’t know when I’ll have this time with her again, and I wanna memorize every little detail of her face.

  “When will you be back?” Those big, sad doe eyes of hers about slay me.

  “I don’t know. Depends on the season.” I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, and caress her cheek. “God, I hate this.”

  “Me too.” She nods, and I can see she’s fighting back tears. “We knew it was going to be like this, though. We just have to find a way to make it work.”

  “I know.” I pull her closer.

  “Ross!” Coach climbs off the bus. He looks like he’s ready to start spewing steam like a tea kettle. “Get your ass on the fucking bus right now or it leaves without you, and you find another team to play for.”

  “God, I never realized how pushy coaches are,” Stella whispers.

  “Not so different from ballbuster there, eh?” I wink at her, and she laughs.

  “I guess not.”

  “You know I can hear you?” I can feel Lana’s psycho glare from here.

  “You better go,” Stella says, and I kiss her hard. I don’t care that my teammates are witnessing and shouting out asshole comments like “stick it in”, and “just the tip.” I don’t care that my coach is going to tear me a new one, because this is the last time I’ll see my girl in I don’t know how long.

  “Ross!”

  “Coming.”

  “Bye,” Stella says, and I pick up my bag and grin as I back away, running toward my impending doom.

  I’m met with wolf whistles, and then I meet Coach’s cold, black eyes. He is pissed. “What the fuck time do you call this, Ross? We got a plane waiting on the tarmac, and we’re sitting here playing with our dicks while we wait for you.”

  “I’m sorry, Coach. It won’t happen again.”

  “You’re damn fucking right it won’t. You disrespect me and this team like that again over a quick fuck and you’ll be traded so goddamn fast you won’t know what hit you.”

  “That’s my woman, Coach.”

  He turns and throws up his hands, and I climb onto the bus behind him. “She’s a fucking distraction, and I told you that you don’t need any distractions this season. I need your head in the game.”

  “It is. It’s in the game, sir.”

  “It better be.”

  “One hundred percent,” I say adamantly. Coach shakes his head and sits in his seat and I push past into the throng of my teammates.

  “Nice one, Ross.” I’m slapped and tripped more times than I can count as I make my way toward the back of the bus to sit beside Eli, who looks up at me and then continues staring out the window again.

  I realize he’s grinning at Stella. “What the fuck, man?”

  “What?”

  “You’re looking at my woman?”

  “Calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down—”

  “I’m not looking at Stella. I’m looking at the hot piece of ass beside her.”

  I glance out the window. I know they likely can’t see, but I stare at the women standing curbside.

  “The ballbuster?”

  “That’s what you call her?” he asks, raising a brow. He nods. “That’s actually kind of fitting.”

  “Eli, she’s a fucking nightmare.”

  “Jesus, you’re such a cry baby.” He rolls his eyes. “How is she a nightmare?”

  “Okay, let’s see, she’d put your balls into a vise and squeeze until they burst. She tried to keep me and Stella apart, and she has a history of dating athletes. From what I hear, it didn’t end well.”

  “She does, eh? And so far, you haven’t mentioned anything that sounds like a deterrent. Well, except maybe my balls in a vise, but I can handle a woman who likes to take charge.”

  “Then it’s your goddamn funeral,” I say, as we pull away from the curb and Stella waves madly. She’s jumping up and down and blowing kisses in that tight little mini dress.

  Torres whistles. “Damn, she’s hot.”

  Marc Anderson, our starting goalie, chuckles. “You are one lucky son of a bitch, Ross.”

  “Oh, please. She’s a virgin,” Jacob says. “He probably hasn’t even fucked her yet.”

  I take several steps forward and punch him in the back of the head. “You don’t talk about my woman, ever. Any of you fucks. You don’t get to talk shit about her. I’m gonna marry that girl someday.”

  Silence falls over the bus, and even I’m surprised by the words that have just come out of my mouth. Eli looks like I just stabbed him through the heart, and the rest of the boys chuckle.

  “That’s sure as shit not what you said on TV an hour ago,” Torres says.

  “You saw that?”

  “Yup,” Torres says with a grin. “The whole damn world saw you running like a little girl the second marriage was mentioned.”

  “Alright, shut the fuck up, all of you,” Coach yells. “Ross, get your fucking suit on. If you’re not dressed by the time we pull in I’m slapping you with a five thousand-dollar fine.”

  I stand and reach for my suit bag in the overhead compartment above Eli. He just shakes his head at me, and the next twenty minutes are spent getting dressed in a cramped aisle while my teammates shove me, smack me on the ass, and just generally attempt to get me to fall over while I’m pulling on the suit pants and shoes.

  When I’m dressed, I sit down. Eli glares at me. “What?” I ask.

  “I’m gonna marry that girl?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Are you high?”

  “No . . . I don’t know. That sweet country lovin’ gets to me.”

  “Jesus Christ. How long before you see her again?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He rolls his eyes. “You don’t know? You mean I’m going to have to put up with this shit for weeks, possibly even months?”

  I sigh. I know he’s only teasing, but it hits too close to home. I don’t know when I’ll see her next, and I don’t like that one fucking bit. If we get to playoffs—which we will, because we’re fucking awesome, and despite Captain Dickwad leading us, this is our year—it could be three or four months before I get to kiss her lips, especially with Stella starting out on tour again.

  “Ah man.” Eli shakes his head. “You got it bad.”

  “Shut it, Boucher.”

  He’s right. Once again, I’m well and truly fucked by this woman.

  Four months later

  “Thank you, Kansas City. Good night.” I wave and walk off the stage, grabbing the towel that Eddie, our new road hand, passes me. I pat the sweat from my forehead and remove my earpiece as I glance at Lana. “Well?”

  She smiles. “Great show.”

  “Not that. How did he do?”

  “They made it.”

  “Oh my god,” I screech. “What was the score?”

  “Seven–one.”

  “Holy shit! They creamed them.”

  “Er, Stella . . . your mic is still on,” Eddie says, and I glance down at the mic in my hand and grin. I shove my earpiece back in before Eddie can unhook me. “Y’all, my man made it to the Stanley
Cup Playoffs.” A roar goes up from the crowd, and I decide I’m not done celebrating just yet so I back away from my manager and crew.

  “Stella, no,” Lana says, but I turn and walk back onto the stage. “Kansas City, my man is going to the Stanley Cup!”

  Another deafening roar goes up. “Okay, so, I’m supposed to be boarding the bus in just a few minutes and taking off for Grand Forks, North Dakota, but I think we need another song to celebrate, huh? Eddie, can I get a guitar, please?”

  Eddie brings me the guitar that Van gave to me, and two more roadies place a stool and a mic stand on the stage for me to sit on. “Thank you.” I slide the microphone in the clip, and plant my butt. I stroke the pearly bluebird for good luck. “So, Van Ross bought me this guitar; it belonged to Queen Loretta, and it even has an inscription on the neck. He’s kind of a dirty boy, though, so I’m not going to read that to you.”

  The crowd cheers. One person even screams, “I love Van Ross.”

  “I do too,” I say into the microphone.

  “Marry me, Stella,” a man in the front row demands. He’s holding a bright neon pink sign above his head that echo his words.

  “What’s your name, sir?”

  “Travis,” he shouts.

  “Well, Travis, that’s real sweet of you, but I’m kind of waiting on another man to ask. See, it’s been four months since I’ve seen him. Four months is a real long time to wait, y’all.”

  “I won’t make you wait, Stella. I’ll marry you right now.”

  I laugh. “I can’t marry you. It wouldn’t be fair when I’m hung up on someone else.” I pluck a few strings on my guitar. “How many single ladies do we have in the house tonight?”

  Another roar comes from the crowd, and several women stick up their hands. “Any of you ladies wanna marry Travis?”

  A woman with black roots and blond hair two rows back pushes toward the front, shouting, “I’ll marry him.”

  “Well alright then. Looks like we just found you a wife, Travis. Y’all make sure to introduce yourselves.” I strum my guitar. “I want to play you guys a little song I wrote when I was holed up in a cabin in the Canadian Rockies, but I need your help. I know you know that the venue does not allow camera phones and flash photography inside this stadium yadda, yadda, yadda, but you know what? I’m so damn proud of my man, I wanna break the internet. So, get out your phones. Eddie, can we dim the lights, please?”