Down to Puck (Buffalo Tempest Hockey Book 2)

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Down to Puck (Buffalo Tempest Hockey Book 2) Page 20

by Sylvia Pierce


  No matter how hard it was to wait, sometimes that was exactly what love needed in order to grow.

  “I fucked up a good thing,” he finally said, “and I’m asking for another shot. We’re friends, yes. Always will be, no matter what dumb shit comes out of my mouth. But we have a chance to crack this thing open, build something even more amazing on top of it. I don’t want to do that with anyone else. Never have. For me, there’s only you.”

  Her heart kicked up again as she remembered that night in her office, all the things he’d said. “All or nothing, right?”

  Henny held her gaze a long time before he spoke again. “I was an asshole. It was selfish and stupid of me to say those things.”

  “But not bullshit, right? I mean, that’s how you feel.”

  Henny sighed. “You coming back to Buffalo… It sent me on this wild trip, but it was like riding a roller coaster in the dark. After all the time we spent apart, having you back again stirred up so much for me, things I didn’t understand. Things I didn’t want to admit. I was losing my mind, screwing up on the ice, totally spinning. When we woke up in your bed that morning… Hell, I didn’t know what the fuck to do. I freaked. I tried to pretend it wasn’t happening, to talk myself out of what I was feeling. But no matter what I did, all roads led right back to you. Every single one.”

  He paced the room, then stopped in front of her again, so close she could smell the fabric softener in his clothes.

  “You’re my home,” he said. “My fucking heart. I’m crazy in love with you, Bex. Not because we got drunk and hooked up, not because I needed a distraction, but because of who you are. Because I fucking admire the fierce girl I knew in high school and the badass woman you’ve become. Because of who I am when I’m with you—who you let me be—even if I don’t always show it to you. I love that you know how to make pie charts and nothing in your house matches and you put kale on your nachos. I love that you have so many stupid fucking magnets they fall off the fridge every time I open it. I love that you snore, but only in the mornings. I love that you let me read your diary when we were seventeen, and that even after knowing you for twenty-five years, I’m still learning your secrets.”

  Henny leaned back against the pool table and closed his eyes, finally taking a breath. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. Resigned. “So yeah, I want it all with you. But if you can’t give me that, I get it. I’ll take whatever you’re offering. Just friends? No, I don’t like it. But it’s a hell of a lot better than not having you in my life at all.”

  Bex could hardly breathe. Her body was warm and buzzing, her heart full.

  “Say something,” he whispered, opening his eyes to look at her once more.

  Bex cracked a smile. A small one at first, then it grew, stretching across her face until her cheeks hurt. “First of all, I don’t snore, and secondly, I didn’t let you read my diary. You stole it, and then I found it shoved under your mattress.”

  Henny raised a brow. “What were you doing under my mattress?”

  “Hello? Looking for porn.”

  “Should’ve checked my health textbook.”

  Bex’s jaw dropped. “You stashed porn in your health textbook?”

  “What else was I supposed to do in that boring-ass class?”

  “I don’t know… Pay attention? Learn something?”

  “From old Mrs. Farnsworth? That woman brought in vegetables to re-enact the entire human reproductive process. I couldn’t eat salad until my late twenties.”

  “You really are a man-baby.”

  “Hey. Until you’ve seen a cucumber fuck a grapefruit, don’t judge.”

  Bex cracked up. It felt good to laugh with him again. Her Henny. Her best friend. Blowing out a breath, she said, “These last couple weeks without you have sucked some serious ass.”

  “You’re telling me.” Henny’s smile finally faded, his eyes turning serious. “I meant what I said, Bex. About us. Whatever you want, just—”

  “Turn around,” she demanded.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Turn around. Hands on the pool table.”

  “Kinky.” Raising a brow, he did as she asked. “So we’re going with friends with benefits, then? That’s your final answer?”

  Bex took a deep breath, willing her heartbeat to slow.

  Loving Henny was so much more than friendship with benefits. It was mutual respect. Admiration. Compromise. Sacrifice. All the things that would bind them close, keep them together when the crazy-hot pool table sex faded and life was doing its damnedest to chip away at their souls. It was a thousand moments, large and small. Words. Convictions. Actions. Apologies. Laughter. Tears. Commitment. Showing up for each other when it really counted. Not being afraid to fight, even when it got messy, even when it hurt like hell. It was everything he’d said, all the reasons he loved her, the same reasons she loved him.

  Forever love. That’s what they had. It’s what they’d always had.

  That was her final answer.

  “Benefits?” she teased. Silently she wriggled out of her clothes, her skin erupting in goose bumps. “You waltz in here bearing gifts and romantic little speeches, and I’m supposed to drop my panties again, just like that?”

  “Joke! It was a joke.” Henny started to turn his head. “Bex, I didn’t—”

  “Turn around or we’re done, Kyle Henderson.”

  He whipped his head back into place, and Bex slipped the jersey over her naked body, loving the feel of his numbers on her chest. She was Henny’s, now and always.

  “Bex,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice, “I said I’d let you make the rules here. I mean it. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll accept whatever—”

  “All.”

  “—even if it means—”

  “All.”

  “—that we can’t… Wait. What?”

  “You said all or nothing. I choose all. Turn around.”

  Slowly, Henny turned to face her, his eyes wide with surprise.

  Standing before him in nothing but the jersey, she said, “I messed up, too. I didn’t know how to deal with our friendship changing so quickly, and I panicked. I’m done panicking. Done running from this. From us. You know my brand of crazy, Hen. All my secrets, all my shame, my strengths, my stories, just like I know yours. And guess what? I fell for you too, jerkface. A long time ago. So if you think you can deal with me—all of me—then I say we give this thing a shot. A real one. You in?”

  Henny ran his thumb over his lower lip and swallowed hard, his eyes dark with desire.

  “Henny. Are you listening to me?”

  “I don’t… Are you wearing panties?”

  Bex rolled her eyes. “Did you even hear a word I said?”

  Henny blinked. “You had me at… standing there naked in my jersey.”

  “See what happens when you look at porn instead of studying? You’ve conditioned yourself to respond only to naked women.”

  “No, only to you.” He reached for the jersey, tugging it up to reveal the triangle of hair between her thighs.

  “See? You never developed critical listening skills.” Grinning wickedly, Bex pushed him back onto the pool table and climbed up to straddle him. His jeans were rough against her sensitive skin, the zipper warm from his body heat, radiating to her core.

  Henny slid his hands up the front of her jersey, fingers tugging her aching nipples to stiff peaks. “Lucky for you I have lots of other skills.”

  She was wet in an instant, reaching down between her legs for his button and zipper, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothes. His hard length was hot and velvet-smooth in her hand.

  This. This was right. All of it.

  Bex wasn’t naive enough to think they’d never have another fight, never hit another roadblock. She and Henny still had so many things to work through on their own—her fears and insecurities about her business plans, his frustrations with the league and the mistakes he’d made on the ice, all of the pain and anguish they’d
been carrying from their pasts. Those kinds of wounds didn’t repair themselves overnight, not even when you fell in love.

  Bex and Henny had an uphill road ahead of them, and it wouldn’t be an easy hike.

  But they wouldn’t be walking it alone.

  “Now we have a problem.” Henny slid his hands down her rib cage, her hips, her thighs, squeezing her tight. “Every time I see my number, I’m gonna think about this moment. You’ve already ruined pool for me. Now I won’t be able to wear my own jersey without getting a raging hard-on. Do you know how fucked up that is?”

  “So fucked up. Maybe I should help you with that.” She arched her hips, slowly sliding down over his shaft, taking him in fully. “Better?”

  “This is… not… helping.” Henny closed his eyes as she rolled her hips, her body stretching to accommodate him, to learn him all over again. “Fuck. You’re making a bigger problem, Bex. Emphasis on bigger.”

  “Bigger isn’t a problem for me,” she teased, her body shuddering with pleasure. They’d been apart for far too long, and now that they’d found their way back into each other’s arms, Bex intended to make up for every lost second, one delicious thrust at a time. “In fact, I’d say everything about this situation is just about—yeah, right there—perfect.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  5 months later…

  “We’ve got a problem. A big one.”

  At the sound of Henny’s voice, Bex looked up from the index cards spread across her desk, her breath catching—partly from the note of concern in his voice, but mostly from the charcoal gray suit clinging to his muscular build. Good lord, that man cleaned up well.

  Bex crossed her legs, trying to relieve the sudden pressure between her thighs. She needed to finish her speech, not jump his bones. “What’s the emergency?”

  “We’re gonna need more booze,” he said. “More food. More… everything.” His serious mask slipped, a smile stretching ear to ear. “There’s a line down the fucking block, Bex.”

  Bex hopped out of her chair, knocking half her notes to the floor. “Are you serious? But we’re not set to open for another two hours!”

  “I’ve got Roscoe out there keeping everyone entertained. Kooz left to go round up some of the other guys early, see who can help work the door.”

  “Where are Fee and the girls?” Bex asked. She’d recently hired another bartender, a cook, and two more cocktail servers to help with the weekly pool tournaments—the games had been a huge hit, the crowds getting bigger every weekend. The new staff had jumped in hard and fast, quickly becoming part of the ever-expanding pub family.

  “Fee, Gemma, Meg, and Elsie are all out at the bar, dressed to the nines and ready to rock,” Henny said. “Your mom’s here, too. Nico and Annie are already on the grill—Nico’s trying to get his cousin to come in and help. From the looks of that line, two cooks won’t cut it today.”

  “But I…” Bex blinked. None of this seemed real. “How did this happen?”

  Henny slipped his arms around her waist. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it was your kickass marketing campaign, your tireless spirit, your endless array of spreadsheets, and your super handsome, amazingly helpful, strapping young assistant.”

  “Not to mention horny,” she teased, the hard length of him pressing urgently against her stomach. “You are the poster boy for inappropriate workplace behavior.”

  “Fire me if you want, but good luck finding an assistant with my skill set.” He kissed her neck, grazing her skin with his teeth.

  “Fine, you’re not fired. But seriously. Down the block?”

  “Pretty sure your investor’s here, too.”

  “Jared?”

  “English guy, good hair, suit that cost more than my house?”

  “That’s him.”

  Bex smiled, shocked at how it’d all come together. Jared Blackwell owned FierceConnect, a major social gaming company based in New York. He and his wife Ari had recently started investing in bars and restaurants all over the state. When they heard about the women’s business program at Bluepoint and Bex’s ideas for the pub, they jumped on it, flying up to Buffalo for a meeting. Bex hit it off with them immediately. The papers were signed the next day, and after a few conference calls to fine-tune the plans, they began the renovations.

  Bex couldn’t have asked for a better arrangement.

  The pub looked incredible. She’d kept the original mahogany bar and jukebox, complete with the 80s rock her regulars loved so much. But everything else inside was different, reborn. The investment had allowed her to expand the bar, doubling the interior space and adding an outside patio for summer events. They’d built a stage for bands, remodeled the basement into a wine cellar, gutted and upgraded the kitchen to accommodate the new menu, expanded her office and storeroom, brought in a second pool table, and added three more bathrooms. They’d also commissioned custom-painted signage to show off the new name: The Silver Phoenix.

  Today was the official grand opening. She’d promoted it to all the regulars and taken an ad out in the paper, booked a radio spot, spread the word on social media. She figured it would be a fun party—a great way to spend a Saturday night and kick off the next chapter of her life, maybe bring in a few new customers who hadn’t yet heard about the place.

  But she’d never expected such an amazing turnout.

  “This is really happening,” she said, gathering up her speech cards. Suddenly, her stomach bubbled with nerves. “Holy shit. I need to rehearse. I need—”

  “How’s my girl?” Fee stuck her head in the doorway. “You good?”

  “I understand we’re in for quite a party,” Bex said, fanning herself with the cards.

  “You have no idea.” Fee winked. “But we’ve got this, babe. Survivors, remember?”

  Bex laughed. They’d come a long way from mopping up the leaky bathroom. They so had this.

  “Alright,” Bex said. “Let’s open the doors early, get those thirsty people some drinks.”

  “Go ahead,” Henny told Fee. “We’ll be out in a few.”

  Fee flashed a thumbs-up, then headed back out to the bar, closing the door behind her.

  “Let them rush in, check the place out, get comfortable,” Henny said. “Then you can make your grand entrance.”

  She slid her hands over his shoulders. “If this is a trick to sneak in a quickie before the mad rush… then I’m all for it. God, you look good in that suit.”

  “If you think I can see you in that short, sparkly-ass dress and only settle for a quickie, then we’ve got some serious communication issues.”

  “They’re called sequins, and fine, I’ll make it up to you later.” Bex flipped through her note cards again, wondering if she’d forgotten anyone. So many people had come together to make this happen, to support her, to cheer her along the way. She wanted them all to know how much it meant to her. “Do you think I should—”

  “Bex?” Henny took the cards, slipped them into his back pocket. “I think you should stop worrying. You’re fucking awesome. Everyone out there knows it. I know it. And we are all so damn proud of you.” He kissed her forehead, immediately calming her nerves. “Got something for you. A little gift to mark the occasion.”

  “You’re not going to make me cry, are you?”

  “No promises.” From a pocket inside his suit jacket, he pulled out a flat velvet box.

  “What’s this?” she asked, grinning.

  “I’ve been looking for this little beauty for months,” he said. “It had to be perfect. Had to be right.”

  Bex was bouncing on her toes, her heart ready to burst. “You’re killing me, Hen. Open it. Open it!”

  He popped the lid, revealing a broach so beautiful it took her breath away. Nestled into the black velvet box, a platinum phoenix rose out of a fire made of teardrop-cut garnet and topaz jewels. It looked shockingly similar to the logo she’d drawn all those months ago, the same image that now adorned the sign out front.

  She reached
into the box and pulled out the phoenix, surprised to find a smooth, black backing without a pin. “Wait, this isn’t a broach.”

  “It was, but I had it modified.” Henny traced his fingers over her collarbone. “In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you wear jewelry. But magnets? That’s all you.”

  Her eyes glazed with tears. She couldn’t imagine a more perfect gift. “It’s… Henny, I don’t know what to say. I love it so much.”

  He stuck it on her metal filing cabinet. “Our first official commemorative magnet.”

  “Our first?” When she looked up at him, she found him searching her face, the question in his eyes clear.

  Her heart expanded, fluttering in her chest. She’d said no once before, but she was ready now. Ready to wake up in the same bed every morning, to eagerly await his return from games on the road, to make his house their home. “Henny, are you asking me to move in with you?”

  “No.” He held her gaze a beat too long, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his breath soft on her lips. Then, “I’m asking you to share your life with me. To let me spend the rest of my days making love to you. Making you laugh that sexy, sequin-covered ass off. Making you happy. Covering our entire damn fridge with magnets from every place we visit, every celebration we have, every day we’re on this earth together.” Henny dropped down on his knee and reached for her hand. “I’m asking you to marry me, Rebecca Canfield.”

  Bex gasped.

  Sliding a delicate ring on her finger, he kissed her knuckles, then looked up to meet her gaze . “Please say yes.”

  There was only one thing to say. Pure, true, and twenty-five years in the making.

  Dropping to her knees, she took Henny’s face in her hands and answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

  His lips were soft and sweet, a gentle kiss with the promise of so much more to come.

  “If you’re not into rings,” he said, kissing her finger, “we can have that made into a magnet, too.”

  “Don’t you dare!” She held it up, admiring it. It was gorgeous, a simple square-cut diamond in an ornate antique setting, delicate and perfect and totally Bex, just like the magnet.

 

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