Easy Puck

by Belle, Melissa

  I smirk. “Maybe you two could have some fun with that hot tub then.”

  His expression darkens. “Ash and I don’t vibe that way.”

  “The fuck you don’t,” I say. “I saw you at the Odyssey. We all did.”

  “You don’t get it.” He shakes his head just as my phone starts ringing. “Better answer your phone.”

  Winter.

  I exhale in relief and swipe the screen. “Hey, gorgeous.”

  “Hey, Hunt,” Winter says in a friendly tone. A forced, friendly tone.

  Something’s off.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her. “Hold on, I’m going to find some privacy.”

  But Murph jumps up off the bed. “I’ll be back. You want anything from the tavern next door?”

  “Chicken burger and salad,” I say to him.

  He gives me a thumbs up and disappears out the door.

  I wait until the door clicks closed before I return my attention to the phone. “Talk to me, Princess.”

  She lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s a good thing. Really.”

  “What is?”

  “My news.”

  Dread shoots through me. She’s leaving.

  “News?” I try to say the word lightly.

  “Yeah. My manager called a little while ago. I was on my way home from visiting Les Anderson.”

  “That’s great you saw Les. How is he?” Better to focus on the innocuous part of her story first.

  “He’s good. Really good. He and I worked all afternoon on the musical. He was so incredibly helpful and supportive. And I was so excited when I left his studio, and then Pat called me. I tried to tell him about what I was working on, but he said none of that mattered because he had just snagged an audition slot for the role of a lifetime for me.”

  My breath catches in my throat. “Summerset Nights.”

  A long beat of silence follows.

  “Yes,” she finally says, her voice neutral and giving me no fucking clue what she’s feeling. “Summerset Nights.”

  I force a smile onto my face even though she’s not here to see it. “That’s good news. Right?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, yes, it should be. And six months ago, I would have killed for this opportunity. But…” Her voice sounds so sad when she adds, “My mama was the one who took me to see Summerset Nights when I was a little girl. It was her dream for me, and somewhere along the way, it became my dream, too. But now I don’t know what I want.”

  “When would you need to audition?”

  “That’s the thing. Pat arranged it so that I can do the audition from here. New Orleans. I can tape it and send it in.”

  I don’t like the feeling that sweeps through me at this news. It’s relief that she’s not leaving yet. Which is fucking selfish of me. Because if Winter’s dream is to play this role, then she deserves to.

  I mentally punch myself in the nuts for my selfishness, and then I say to her, “I know that if you want this, you’ll make a kick-ass audition tape. And don’t let that asshole stop you from trying, either.”

  She releases what feels like a pent-up breath. “Thank you, Hunt. I knew you’d make me feel better. I think…I think I should go for it.”

  “Good,” I say. “I think that’s awesome. And I’ll be home tomorrow night after the game,” I tell her. “I can help you prepare if you need me to.”

  “I don’t think I can wait until then,” she says. “Do you have a few minutes now to hear what I’m thinking?”

  I settle back against the hotel pillows. “Of course. Lay it on me.”

  And for the next half hour, Winter reads the script to me. At first, she’s tentative while she finds her own voice inside that of the character’s voice. But by the time we go to sleep, she’s nailing it.

  “You’ve got this,” I tell her. “You’re ready.”

  Chapter 23

  Winter

  The next day, I videotape my audition for the lead role in Summerset Nights and send it in to Pat. He tells me it could be days before we know anything because the live auditions are taking place over several blocks of time.

  So, I put it out of my mind. And when Hunter walks in the door at two in the morning, I greet him like we’ve been apart for months instead of a week.

  He picks me up and carries me straight to his bedroom where we proceed to make up for the days of abstinence that we missed. He tells me how much he missed me while he’s inside me, on top of me, and beneath me. And after that, we curl up together and talk before drifting off to sleep.

  It feels like the kind of reunion real couples have.

  And when we wake up in the morning, Hunter tells me he’s taking me out.

  I smile as I get dressed, realizing I look forward to hanging out with Hunter clothed just as much as Hunter naked.

  Because the truth is that Hunter and I haven’t just been having sex since I’ve been back in the bayou. We’ve also gotten closer in other ways, ways that are seriously testing the rules of our friends-who-fuck agreement. We talk a lot. And we explore New Orleans together, treating this time I’m in town almost like I’m a tourist who needs to see everything before leaving. Acting like Hunter’s helping me to sightsee is a way to pretend that we’re not going on dates apparently.

  We don’t say that, of course.

  It’s nice. More than nice. It’s romantic and real at the same time. I feel like I’m getting to know Hunter all over again but as adults, and I didn’t realize how much I missed having him in my life until he was back. The idea of leaving him—well, it floors me when I think too hard about it. So, I try not to. But turning in that audition tape was a reality check for both of us.

  I saw it in his eyes the second he came home last night. As we were falling asleep, he asked me how it went. I said I’d sent the video to Pat, and Hunter kissed my head and said he was proud of me. Then, we said goodnight.

  And now, as we walk down the street toward the French Quarter, he says, “When do you think you’ll hear?”

  “Pat said it could be a while,” I say. “I honestly have no idea how long.” Not wanting to stay on the topic, I smile as I see where Hunter’s leading me. “Café du Monde again?”

  “I thought you love that place.”

  “I do. You know I do. It feels a little bit like it’s become our place.”

  There’s been many a morning the last month and a half that Hunter and I have gone to Café du Monde for beignets.

  Today, we luck out. The line isn’t as bad as usual, and before too long, we’re seated outside at a table with our breakfasts.

  “God, I’ve missed beignets,” I say as I devour my food. “I literally could orgasm over these sugary treats.”

  Hunter’s green eyes darken. “Really.” He holds up his hand for the check.

  I grab at his hand. “Stop,” I say, laughing. “I’m not ready to leave yet.”

  He grins. “I like seeing you happy, Win.”

  I like being happy. Before coming home to New Orleans, it had been a long time since I’d woken up relaxed and actually looking forward to the day ahead. And lately, I’m actually getting out of bed with a smile on my face. And not just because Hunter got me off so good I can barely remember my life before we started having sex on the regular.

  My smile slips when a woman approaches our table. Her attention is clearly fixed on Hunter, and she doesn’t acknowledge my presence at all.

  “Hi, sugar,” she says to him. “Been a while.”

  Hunter’s expression goes from relaxed and smiling to instantly on guard.

  The other patrons don’t typically bother us while we’re actually eating. As we’re coming and going, Hunter will often get asked for a selfie or an autograph by a little kid or a teenager, and he always complies.

  I’ve had some people recognize me as well, but ever since that first night out at the Odyssey, I haven’t gotten stressed out about it. Maybe because I told Hunter the truth about New York. I also think it’s because I’m with him so much, and
I get to see firsthand how well he handles having fans. His fans are a lot more diehard than mine, and yet he’s able to calm them down right away with a friendly word and a smile.

  But this woman who’s standing at our table does not seem like a random fan. She’s got platinum-blond hair and is tall and thin. She could be beautiful if it weren’t for the fact that her tan is sprayed on, her makeup is way too thick, and she has a terrible vibe about her.

  She’s solely focused on Hunter, and I could be mistaken, but it looks like they have a…um, history.

  She places her perfectly-manicured hand with red nails on his arm. She does it in a possessive way, and then she angles her body to block my view of her face.

  “How have you been? Lonely?” she purrs.

  Hunter shoves his chair back to get some distance from her. “Not at all,” he says with an obvious look toward me.

  That changes the energy swirling around the three of us. Now, this woman is forced to turn her head and actually look at his dining companion.

  Whatever she sees doesn’t seem to concern her. She throws me a snide smile and then returns her attention to Hunter.

  “Well, I’ve been lonely. Lonely for you,” she says, putting her hand back on Hunter’s arm.

  This time, he reaches across the table and grabs my hand, which has been frozen in place with a fork in it this entire time.

  I drop the fork and it clatters onto my plate, breaking the sudden silence.

  “Hunt…” I start to say.

  But he’s already talking. “Deb, meet Winter.”

  Deb’s entire face turns sour like she just ate an entire lemon. “She’s what’s keeping you warm at night?”

  “Every. Night.” Hunter spells out the words slowly. “I have no room for anyone else, Deb.”

  Deb glares at me. “You don’t deserve him.”

  I just raise my eyebrows. “I think Hunter can be the judge of that.”

  “I don’t deserve Winter,” he says, his eyes only on me now. “But I’m a lucky guy that she’s giving me a shot anyway.”

  I let the warmth of his words and his hand on mine seep into me.

  Deb gives a huff and storms off.

  “Sorry about that.” Hunter’s cheeks are pink.

  “You’re embarrassed,” I say to him in astonishment. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you embarrassed.”

  He frowns. “Yes, I’m embarrassed. That was shitty of her. She never had any claim over me. We didn’t ever date.”

  “We’re not dating, either,” I say stubbornly.

  “What we’re doing may not be definable, but it’s meaningful,” he says. “I dare you to say I’m wrong.”

  I flush with heat. “Of course it’s meaningful,” I murmur. “It’s just…we said we’re not in a relationship.”

  “We did say that.” His eyes fix on mine.

  “And…” And I can’t have this conversation right now. I feel too raw. So, I go for something less personal but that which stings nonetheless. “You must have slept with half the city of New Orleans, Mr. Storm.”

  He flinches. “That is absolutely not true,” he says, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.

  “Hunt.” I rub his hand in circles with my thumb. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I just…Charly told me about your reputation.”

  He lets go of my hand to tug at the hair on his head. I’ve never seen him so agitated, and I wait quietly for him to decide what he wants to say.

  “Yes,” he says finally. “I’ve had my share of women, but I didn’t sleep around the way people think.”

  “So you had…what? A few select women on speed dial?”

  He shifts uncomfortably. “I had women in my life I could call when I needed to…”

  “To fuck.” I say the words flatly.

  “Winter, I told you I don’t date.” His green eyes are piercing as he stares at me like he’s begging me to understand something.

  “I don’t get it,” I say in confusion. “What are you trying to tell me, Hunter?”

  “I’m telling you that I’ve never been able to get close to someone romantically. I’m not a snuggle-after-fucking, talk-under-the-covers kind of guy. I guess I’m not built that way.”

  “But you do all of that with me,” I say.

  “Yes, I do,” he says, his tone raw and frustrated. “You know you’re the only woman I’ve…”

  He stops short, and my pulse picks up. But like him, I’m not sure I want him to continue his sentence. It’s too scary to feel what’s going on between us.

  So, I change the subject.

  “You have tomorrow off, right?” I ask him.

  He nods, exhaling, and I can tell he’s as relieved as I am to talk of something more casual. “Rare day off. With our big road trip coming up, Coach decided to give us a break after today’s practice, which will be fucking brutal.”

  “So what do you do when you don’t have a game or a practice?” I ask Hunter.

  “I like to get out in nature and hike.”

  “Really?” I never knew Hunter to hike.

  “Yeah. I got into it a few years ago during the off-season. I just needed to get out of the city, and I found my way to a trail.”

  “That sounds amazing.”

  “Not real intense hiking—that’s hard to find around here. I just usually pack a snack and get out of town for the day. It clears my head. I can hear myself out there better than in the city a lot of times.”

  “That sounds nice,” I say because it does. Learning who Hunter is now fascinates me, and the best part is how much I still like him. How much we still enjoy hanging out.

  “You want to come with me tomorrow?” His eyes brighten. “I know of a great place about two hours out of the city in Mississippi. The weather’s supposed to be sunny with no rain expected.”

  Hiking with Hunter. That sounds like something couples would do.

  Like he can read my mind, he quickly adds, “Before you go back to New York, I want to make sure you spend some quality time outside of New Orleans. Get your feet down and soak in the southern countryside.”

  Yet another activity we’re passing off as a non-date.

  And I’m in.

  I’m so far in I don’t know how I’m going to back out when it’s time to go.

  “I’d need to be back by seven. I’m meeting Charly for drinks.”

  “Sure. We’ll keep good track of the time.” I guess we’d better keep good track of the time. Time is passing quickly in the Bayou, and before I know it, these non-dates with Hunter will be just a memory.

  * * *

  After we finish breakfast, Hunter heads off for practice. I snuggle on the couch with Theo and my musical book, but when I hit a snag, I put my work away and head for the kitchen.

  I’ve been wanting to do something nice for Hunter after all he’s done for me since I’ve moved home.

  I eye the clock. Practice ends about ninety minutes from now. I’m full from breakfast and relaxed, and I’ve missed baking. I used to bake with my mother, but once I moved to New York City, I pretty much gave up cooking altogether.

  I’m going to change that right now.

  Hockey players aren’t big on sweets, especially when they’re in-season, but I know Hunter loves a good dessert every once in a while. And I know exactly which one.

  So I take out a mixing bowl, turn on some music, and search Hunter’s kitchen for the ingredients I’ll need to get started.

  * * *

  I’ve just finished frosting the cupcakes when Hunter walks in the front door.

  “What smells so damn good?” he asks me as he steps into the kitchen.

  I clean my hands on a dishcloth and give him a hug. “Baking you sustenance. I made cupcakes. Healthy cupcakes,” I add quickly. “Well, healthier. I substituted honey for sugar. And I know you have to watch your fat intake when you’re playing, but I thought you deserved a little treat after how hard you’ve been working, and…”

  His eyes are m
isty with emotion. “You remembered,” he says as he curls his hand around the back of my head and kisses me long and hard.

  I’m breathless when he finally lets go.

  “I did,” I say. “Cupcakes were what your mama used to always make for you boys when you were little. You and I had that in common—it’s probably the one happy thing I can remember doing with my mama.”

  He grins. “You know I’m going to eat one now. And then, in about ten seconds, I’m going to eat another.”

  I reach for a cupcake and place it on a napkin.

  “Here you go.”

  I grab one for myself, and we take seats on the couch together.

  Hunter bites into the cupcake and immediately groans. “So fucking good,” he says with a full mouth.

  He’s so sexy right now, and I snuggle closer to him as I bite into my own cupcake.

  It is good. Rich and decadent, and the frosting is delicious.

  “I’ve missed this,” I say.

  “Baking?”

  “Eating whatever I want. We didn’t eat a lot of desserts in New York,” I say. “All my friends were in the business, and we were so worried about looking good for auditions or for whatever role we had at the time.”

  Hunter finishes off his cupcake and heads to the kitchen for another.

  He calls over his shoulder, “You’re gorgeous, Winter. You deserve to be happy, no matter your number on a scale.”

  Hunter always loved my body. Whether I’d gained five or ten pounds or was on another stage diet in high school, he never wavered in his attraction to me. I missed that kind of unconditional acceptance when I was away, but what’s really sad is that I couldn’t give that kind of acceptance to myself.

  It’s time to start. I finish my own cupcake and watch Hunter devour his before he even leaves the kitchen. I smile as he walks back toward me. When his ass hits the couch next to me, I climb on top of him.

  “You’re right,” I say as I nibble his earlobe. “I need to treat my body well.”

  He reaches for the zipper on my jeans. “Let’s start with me treating you well.”

  “You always do,” I murmur, already feeling myself light up.