Page 62 of Tricky Puck

I may be confused about what the hell I’m doing, where I’m at with her, but my dick has no problem knowing exactly what it wants. The more I hold her and we stare and kiss, the more my dick convinces me of what we need to do.

“You weren’t going to sleep on that air mattress tonight, were you?”

She laughs. “Now that you mention it…”

That’s all she needs to say before I scoop her up in my arms as she laughs in between kissing me and I carry her to my bedroom, kicking the door closed behind us.

Before I leave in the morning, I give her a kiss while she sleeps.

Twenty

DELANEY

Ididn’t open my eyes when he kissed me good-bye this morning because I’m such a fucking chicken. I didn’t want him to see my feelings because he surely would have seen everything in my eyes.

Now I have until tomorrow to calm those stupid feelings the fuck down. By the time he returns, I’ll be back to myself, back to neutral, merely amused by him and, okay, occasionally very sexually excited by him. But that’s it, I swear.

Whatever else I’ve been feeling is temporary, not real. It can’t possibly be real—just some stupid crush.

Except that’s never happened to me before. I don’t have crushes. I have flirtations. I don’t get feelings. I hate feelings. I turn over in bed and put the pillow over my head as if I can hide.

Oh god. I think I may have feelings.

We arrive at the Portsmouth Historical Society for the Whalers annual charitable event arrive and I’m relieved to see the familiar faces of Cherry, Tina and Emery. I’ve been to my share of dress-up shindigs, but this time I need to behave. I need to impress Link’s coach.

“You look like my favorite dessert.”

His breath tickles my ear and it might be getting hard to breathe, but I hold onto my New Yorker mantle. “What’s that?”

“An ice cream cone and I want to start licking⁠—”

“Slow down hockey hunk. We just got here. And since when do pirates like ice cream? You need to work on your flirting or people will think you’re going soft, Milano.”

“That’s a lot of words.”

“Are you suggesting I’m nervous?”

“Are you?” He’s serious and his green eyes pierce me.

“Sure. I’m a fish out of water. I’m supposed to be nervous. I’ve never been around so many athletes.”

“Hell no. That’s not it,” he whispers, purposely making me shiver.

“Which one is the coach?” I see a group of hockey players at the bar. Not surprising.

“He’s the one scowling on the end. The only guy with gray hair.”

“Got it. Maybe that’s why he’s so grumpy.”

Link laughs and I get a lump of happy in my throat, but I swallow it down before I choke on it.

He leads me over to the bar and we mingle with his friends while I keep an eye on Grumpy the coach.

“Let me have one drink before I introduce you,” he says.

“It’s that bad, eh?”

He heaves a sigh and orders a shot of Pappy Van Winkel for each of us. I’m not surprised when he knocks his back in one go.