Page 124 of Puck Love

Two months later

Idriveup the roadthat leads to my house. I’m exhausted and miserable. I haven’t talked to Stella for two days. She was busy with meet-and-greets and interviews with radio stations, and I didn’t want to risk waking her when I knew she had another show. She’d called during morning skate, and then again later while I was dodging questions in locker-room interviews after playing like shit because I couldn’t keep my head together. Eli got run right over by that Subban asshole, and I beat the shit out of him on the ice because nobody fucks with my right wing. I got thrown in the box, too, and our empty net penalty meant the Preds hit it right in the center of the net. We lost the game. I took a puck to the obliques and another to the thigh, along with several hard hits, so not only am I cranky and tired, but I’m covered in bruises and in a world of pain. I need a soak in the hot tub, a finger or two of Jameson, and I need to see my girl, or at the very least see her through a computer screen while I jack it. She won’t sex-Skype with me anymore. Which means my dick is in a permanent state ofsad.

As I round the last bend toward my drive, I slam on the brakes. An SUV is parked on the side of the road, right where Stella’s car had crashed into a snow drift. Jesus Christ, what is it with people crashing into mymountain?

I won’t let myself think that it’s her, because I’m pretty sure I would have seen the paps following her from the airport splashed all over the tabloids if it was. I pull my phone from my pocket and let the beast idle as I dial Stella’snumber.

“Hey,baby.”

“Stella, where are you rightnow?”

“On the bus.Why?”

My heart sinks. I don’t know who the hell the car belongs to, but I do not want to find some psycho stalker bunny has broken into my house and is pretending to be my hot-as-fuck girlfriend. For one, no one could compare to Stella. No one even gets a goddamn look in. Still, I don’t want her to freak, so I know I need to play it cool. “No reason. How was yourshow?”

“Good. Tiring. I saw the score. I’m sorry, baby. I wish I was there to make itbetter.”

“Metoo.”

“Listen, I gotta go. Lana wants to go over some interviewquestions.”

I don’t want her to hang up, but I certainly don’t want her to freak out should some crazy bitch be in my house. “Okay, call melater?”

“Sure.”

“I miss you so goddamnmuch.”

“I miss you too,” she says quietly. “But we’ll see each othersoon.”

“Yeah. Bye,country.”

“Bye.”

I end the call and slowly continue up my driveway and through the gate in case some super-charged hockey fan comes tearing out at the vehicle. When I pull up in front of my house, it’sstill.

I’m probably over-reacting. Whoever left their car there likely just ran out of gas and went in search of help. It’s not as if I’m going to come home and find Goldilocks asleep in mybed.

I climb the porch stairs and open my front door with the keys, and then I step inside and head for the other end of my house, attracted by the noise. Once there, I discover that while Goldilocks may not be occupying my bed, she’s definitely in my hot tub, drinking myJameson.

“Hi, honey. I’m home,” Stellasays.

Oh, fuck me, yes. I cross the room in three impatient strides and climb into the hot tub, clothes, shoes, watch, and all. She squeals. Water splashes out over the floor, and I don’t give ashit.

I take her face in my hands. “What are you doinghere?”

“Surprise.” She smiles, and I don’t even care about an explanation. I just kiss her so hard she has to pull away, gasping for breath. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I groan and press my lips to hers. “You’re naked in my hottub.”

She laughs. “And you’re still fullyclothed.”

“How did you getin?”

“I called your mother two days ago, asked her for the sparekey.”

“Jesus. My brother’s not here, ishe?”

“No, he offered to give us a weekalone.”