Big Puck (a hot hockey romantic comedy) (Size Matters Book 6)

by Blake Wilder

  Orgasms. I wanted them. All of them.

  After all, Alex knew where all the sweet spots were. He couldn’t be the only guy in the world with that knowledge.

  Alex pulled my chair out and we sat back down at our table. The other three couples were still on the dance floor and we scooted our chairs close together, so we could talk over the music.

  “I can’t believe we just did that. I can’t tell you the last time I did anything that spontaneous or crazy.”

  Alex grinned. “Stick around. The night is still young. I’m pretty sure there are a few more impulsive tricks up my sleeve.”

  “You know, I’m not sure how me coming helped you,” I said, feeling slightly guilty for this post-orgasmic bliss when Alex hadn’t gotten the same relief.

  “I needed to work off some aggression. And there’s nothing hotter than watching a sexy woman fall apart in your arms.”

  I rolled my eyes. No one had ever called me sexy.

  Alex scowled. “You roll your eyes at one more compliment and I promise you won’t be able to stop me from going over to Ben and handing his ass to him.”

  The genuine malice in his tone took me back and I realized my response to his kind words only served to prove how much my confidence had taken a beating this past year. “He only knocked me down for a little while, Alex. I’m getting back up. Don’t worry.”

  “Try as I may, I can’t figure out what you saw in the dick to begin with.”

  “Trust me, I have no answer for that right now.” I looked around the room, seeing it through a tequila haze. Things were starting to go a bit foggy, everything unfocused flashes of color.

  The last shot seemed to have pushed me out of tipsy range. I was drunk. I reached for my glass of water. Better hydrate. Best to have my wits about me for later.

  “It’s funny,” I said. “I’ve been looking forward to this wedding for months, but tonight hasn’t turned out at all like I expected, what I’d hoped for.”

  “Better?”

  There was no denying tonight was beyond anything I could have imagined. This night with Alex was like something out of a dream. But the problem with dreams was you had to wake up. Come morning, my notch was going to be in his bedpost—something that didn’t feel abhorrent at all anymore—and Alex would be on a flight back to Baltimore.

  And then, it was Operation Perfect Guy.

  Which in reality meant it was most likely going to be me and my vibrator for the foreseen future. At least, I’d have the memory of tonight to help get me off.

  “What did you hope would happen tonight?” he asked when I didn’t respond.

  I lifted one shoulder. I didn’t want to confess what I’d really thought because it would be too embarrassing to let Alex see how stupid I’d been.

  “Tell me,” he urged.

  Unfortunately, the tequila loosened my tongue, pushed my inhibitions out of the way. “Honestly? I kind of planned to convince Ben to elope with me tonight. It is Vegas, after all.”

  Alex frowned. “You really would have married that guy?”

  Damn. I shouldn’t have started this conversation. Now that I had, there was no turning back.

  “Yeah. I mean obviously that plan dissolved the second I found out he was cheating on me, but I want to get married. Want to settle down, have kids.”

  Alex scoffed and the sound tweaked my temper for some reason.

  “What do you have against marriage?”

  Alex crossed his arms. “This conversation isn’t about my life choices. It’s about yours.”

  I didn’t like the way he dodged my question. It was a perfectly valid one. I’d heard enough about Alex from his sister over the years to know the guy was a serious commitment-phobe.

  “Fine,” I said. “Yes. If Ben hadn’t dumped my ass for Beverly, if we’d still been a couple, I would have married him. We would have come to this wedding, danced, gotten tipsy on red wine, and I would have suggested we go to one of those tacky little Vegas chapels to elope.”

  “I thought women wanted the big white wedding, the expensive dress, the flowers.”

  I crinkled my nose, disgusted by what he described. “Jesus. Can you see me in a fucking wedding gown? Carrying a bunch of froufrou flowers?”

  He laughed. “I can’t. But I also can’t stand the thought of you standing in front of some Elvis lookalike vowing to spend the rest of your life with fucking Ben Jerome.”

  “Yeah. That would have been a huge mistake. Ben did me a favor.”

  “Hmph. When you put it like that, I’m actually a lot less pissed off at the dude.”

  “Saved me from myself?”

  He nodded. “Something like that.”

  “You’re gonna laugh, but I’m not so different from other women. I did dream about my wedding growing up. I’ve imagined it countless times.” What I didn’t say was pre-Ben, the groom always changed. Sometimes it was Justin Timberlake, sometimes Gerard Butler, and—God help me—more than a few times, it was Alex standing next to me at the altar.

  “I knew it,” he said, smugly enough that I couldn’t wait to let him know he didn’t know a damn thing. “So you did want the dress, the big dog and pony show?”

  “Nope. My dream wedding is—and always has been—eloping in Vegas.”

  He studied my face, clearly waiting for me to say “just kidding,” but I wasn’t. Cliché or not, I’d always pictured myself catching a flight to Vegas on a whim, racing to one of the chapels, and exchanging vows with the man of my dreams.

  “Why the hell would you want to elope?”

  “Big white weddings are exactly what you just said. A big-ass production,” I explained. “I’ve never really understood why people stress themselves to the max, trying to prove to their family and friends that they love each other enough to stick it out for the long haul. Weddings should be just for the couple and, honestly, if you care about someone so much that you’re willing to say something as serious as ‘til death do us part’”—I didn’t miss Alex’s slight wince as I said the words, but I ignored them—“you should have fun while you do it. I want to stand in some cheesy chapel, pledging my love to the man I want to spend the rest of my life laughing with, joking with, growing old, but not growing up, with.”

  “And that was Ben?”

  Alex was on the wrong end of my broken relationship. “At the beginning…yeah. I mean, come on, Alex. I’m not without any self-esteem, not a complete moron. Though I’ll admit the last few months haven’t been my finest moments.”

  He leaned back and considered that for a minute. “Good. I’m glad to know it wasn’t all bad. I still think the guy is a tool, but if he made you happy for a little while…”

  I glanced Ben’s direction, allowing myself to recall the first couple years of our relationship, pizza nights, watching hockey, the spur-of-the-moment road trips to Niagara Falls and the Finger Lakes, our standard Friday night date night. There had been a lot of laughs at the beginning…before shades of his father started emerging and climbing the ladder at work became the primary focus in his life. “He did make me happy. But I guess now that my eyes have been opened to some hard truths, I can see he’s not the type to do the Vegas wedding. He would have wanted the show. And that should have been my first clue that we’ve spent the last three years growing apart, not together.”

  “Three years is a long time to figure something like that out.”

  I grinned, even as I shook my head at the obvious horror in his voice as he said the words three years like it had been some life sentence in solitary confinement. “Which brings us back to you. Seriously, dude. What’s your hang-up with marriage? Your parents have a great one. So do your brothers. It’s not like you don’t have ideal role models in wedded bliss.”

  “Why is it a hang-up to say you don’t want to get married? Why do people act like it’s some shortcoming, some broken strand of genetic coding? Who says people have to live in pairs? Jesus, between my parents, my sister, my brothers, half my teammates, and now y
ou…you’d think I had some major character flaw.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Because he was right. “You aren’t flawed. I’m sorry. I guess we tend to view others through our own desires. I want to spend my life with the person I love, someone who will love me back, warts and all. So it’s hard for me to understand someone who doesn’t want the same. But you’re right, Alex. If you genuinely want to live your life alone, then that’s your decision, and the rest of us should respect it.”

  Alex leaned back, blinking a couple of times. “Wow. You’re the first person to ever listen to me.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, well, I figure I owe you…for agreeing to bring me to this wedding, for defending me, for the orgasm. Tonight is turning out to be one of the best nights of my life.”

  “Even without the cheesy wedding?” he joked.

  “The night is still young and most of the single guys here are getting pretty wasted.” I pretended to scout the room, searching for Mr. Right. “Since you’re not on the market, maybe I can convin—”

  Alex took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing my gaze back to him. “You’re leaving here with me tonight, so you can stop looking around.”

  I took his hand in mine. “Seriously, Alex, I can’t thank you enough for…everything.”

  His eyes softened, the look he gave me one I couldn’t quite recognize. Before he could respond to my thanks, Bella came back to the table, grabbed a glass of water and chugged the whole thing. She’d clearly worked up a sweat on the dance floor. “Why aren’t you guys out there?”

  “Taking a break,” Alex explained.

  “Deep discussion going on,” I joked.

  “Oh,” Bella said, sitting down on the edge of her seat. She loved to dance, so I knew she wouldn’t hang out for long. “Do tell.”

  “Yep. Thanks to the tequila, we’ve just about figured out the meaning of life and love.”

  “Alex?” Bella asked. “Love? That must have been a short conversation.”

  “Tread lightly, Bella,” Alex said. “I know all your dirty secrets.”

  She waved her hand, unconcerned. “So does Charley. So tell me, brother dear, what did you contribute to the discussion on love?”

  I started to hop in, to tell Bella she was wrong to condemn her brother for not wanting to get married, but it suddenly occurred to me that wasn’t what she was saying.

  “I mean,” Bella continued, “have you ever said those three little words before?”

  “I tell you and mom I lov—”

  “Someone you aren’t related to,” Bella hastened to include.

  He waved his hand at her. “Go away, Bella. You’re ruining my buzz.”

  She laughed, completely unoffended, as she turned her attention to me. “Get a dog,” she advised me. “Unconditional love and acceptance.”

  I enjoyed the annoyed look on Alex’s face. “She has a valid point. Life would be much simpler if I went that route. A dog for companionship and a vibrator to take care of all the rest. No muss, no fuss.”

  Alex rolled his eyes. “You don’t need a dog.”

  Bella laughed. “Don’t worry, Alex. No one here is suggesting you do anything as radical as let some living being—human or canine—into your cold, cold heart.”

  “Seriously, sis?”

  Bella winked at me. “See? Merely mention the words love or relationship and he gets uptight.”

  “You’re a pain in the ass,” Alex said, though there was no heat behind his words. I hadn’t seen Bella and her brother together in nearly eight years, but I was glad to see their relentless teasing was still in place, as was their genuine affection for each other.

  “I’m just kidding, hotshot,” Bella said, kissing her brother on the cheek fondly. “My deepest desire is that one day you meet a woman and fall helplessly, madly in love.”

  Alex gave his sister a horrified look. “Well, now you’re just being a bitch.”

  “I’m glad you two are having a good time. Kudos to me for saving both your weekends. And see,” she said to me. “Vegas can be great even without eloping.”

  With that, Bella was gone again.

  I glanced at Alex, and I could see Bella’s comments had struck a nerve. I tried to figure out some way to lighten the mood again. Before I could come up with something, another person walked up.

  “Hey, Charley. Alex. Good to see you.”

  I turned around to find Marcus Webber, three sheets to the wind, standing next to us.

  “Hey, Marcus. Long time no see.” Alex stood up and the two men shook hands. Marcus was yet another high school friend and former hockey teammate. He’d moved to Chicago after college.

  I stood as well, glad once again that I hadn’t worn heels. Even in flats, the tequila had me swaying. Marcus gave me a hug, his own drunkenness lowering his inhibitions. “You look fucking hot, Charley. Damn, girl.”

  I laughed, glancing at Alex. I thought he’d be amused too, but his eyes had narrowed.

  Was he jealous?

  No way. He couldn’t be.

  “You wanna dance?” Marcus slurred.

  “She promised me the next one,” Alex answered for me.

  There was just enough malice in Alex’s tone to penetrate through Marcus’s alcohol-soaked brain, and mine.

  Shit. He was jealous.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry ’bout that, man,” Marcus stammered. “Maybe I’ll catch up with you two later.”

  Marcus continued stumbling toward the dance floor and I was about ninety-five percent sure he wasn’t even going to remember seeing us tomorrow.

  “Marcus looks good,” I teased, pretending to ogle the other man’s butt.

  Alex leaned closer. “Stop looking.”

  I was pretty sure he meant those words as a serious warning, but his deep, sensuous tone paired with his hot breath against my cheek sent my thoughts to the raciest, kinkiest places on the planet and suddenly I had an image of me bent over Alex’s lap, naked, as he spanked me with those big hands of his.

  So as far as threats went…that one failed.

  “Or?” My gaze drifted to said hands, my face suddenly very hot and no doubt flushed.

  Alex’s eyes narrowed briefly and a slight grin crossed his face. “Hold that thought for later,” he whispered as we sat back down. I took another sip of water, though at this point, I could drink three gallons and it wouldn’t be enough to stave off tomorrow’s hangover.

  Alex’s hand slipped under the slit in my dress and he lightly caressed my knee. The touch vanished when someone bumped into our table, jarring it loudly.

  Ben stood across from us, shooting daggers at Alex. It looked like he wanted to say something, but Beverly was there in an instant, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the dance floor, giving me a look that could kill.

  “Open bar,” I murmured. “Two words that spell recipe for disaster.”

  Alex didn’t seem to hear me—or appreciate my joke. The jealous look was back. And damn if it didn’t turn me on.

  There was no way we were making it to dessert.

  He stood, reaching for my hand to pull me up too.

  “Is it later?” I asked.

  “Almost.” I noticed he swayed slightly, my first indication that he wasn’t unaffected by the tequila either. Of course, standing only drove home how wasted I was too.

  “I don’t wanna fuck dance anymore,” I said. “I just wanna fuck.”

  Alex chuckled. “That’s exactly what we’re gonna do. Later.”

  Again with the later. I had no idea what the hell he was planning and he didn’t bother to explain. Instead, he kept hold of my hand, dragging me out of the ballroom. We didn’t make it to the cake cutting, but I didn’t care. It was almost time for the fun stuff.

  Or at least I thought…

  Alex bypassed the elevators, heading for the front entrance of the hotel.

  “Hey,” I protested, trying to pull him back the other way.

  Alex paused just briefly, just long enough t
o face me, leaning down until his nose nearly touched mine. “Walk out of here with me on your own, sweetheart, or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you out.”

  I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of his words. Unfortunately, he was using that caveman tone again that sent my mind straight to the gutter. “But my room is upstairs.”

  He smiled and gave me a quick kiss. “And we’re going to get there, believe me. But we need to do something else first.”

  “What?”

  “Get married.”

  Seven

  Alex

  The stunned look on Charley’s face cracked me up. The entire night had been…well…fun. Every single second of it.

  Until the other guys started hovering around us.

  Then I started to see red.

  I’d come to the wedding, expecting to drown my sorrows, nurse my wounded pride.

  Not laughing my ass off.

  Not fingering my kid sister’s best friend in a bathroom until she came.

  Not dragging Charley Matthews to the altar because I couldn’t stand the way Marcus and Ben were looking at her.

  “But you don’t want to get married,” she said.

  “If we talk about it, it stops being impulsive and crazy.”

  As far as reasons went, that one was pretty lame.

  But Charley accepted it lock, stock, and barrel. For about two seconds.

  She resisted again, trying to pull her hand from mine. “Alex.”

  I’d never considered marriage a part of my future, but I could see now that my world had never presented any appealing options. Most of the women I met fell in the barracuda range, not the…I stumbled for a moment, but the only other range I could think of was the Charley range.

  You fucked barracudas. You married, then fucked Charleys.

  Jesus. I’d had way too much tequila.

  “Alex. Be sensible.”

  “No.”

  I pulled her to the curb. One of the valets came over to us.

  “Need a cab,” I explained.

  Charley was still shaking her head, but I couldn’t tell if that was a refusal or her attempt to shake some sense into her tequila-soaked brain.