Page 3 of Her Puck Daddies

Even this isn’t without its difficulties since both of the two lavatories at the rear are occupied. By the time one opens up, I’m doing the peepee dance and praying that I’ll be capable of holding it until I can get inside.

At last, crisis averted, I make my way back up the aisle through economy. A little more than halfway there, though, I freeze, feeling like a secret agent on a covert mission as I glance up, assessing the hockey players I need to avoid. They’re perfectly still—thankfully, motionless, which likely means they’re napping.

I release a breath, cautiously continuing my stealth journey when, out of nowhere, a baby behind me lets out a screech so loud it could shatter glass.

I jerk where I stand, stunned by the sudden, ear-splitting noise, when Levi turns in his seat. His annoyed scowl briefly sweeps past me, then his eyes snap back, locking onto mine. I freeze as his gaze sharpens, widening for a split second before narrowing in recognition.

“Hottie?” he hollers out, drawing the attention of Sven and Eric as well as most of the first and business class passengers. Even one of the flight attendants who’s been waiting on us pokes her head out of the service area.

Shit, shit, shit.

Does he really have to call me that? Then again, what else would he say? It’s the only name he knows me by from that one unforgettable night. I only knew them as Doggie, Spandex, and Odds, and let me tell you, it worked like a charm, turning up the flirtation and the heat for one hell of a ride.

But now? I don’t know what to do. I try to come up with some logical explanation for why I’m here, but my thoughts are as helpful as mashed potatoes. It only gets worse when Levi’s jaw tightens, a vein bulging in his forehead, as he stands from his seat and starts moving toward me.

“What are you doing here?” he demands. “Are you stalking us?”

“Um, no,” I squeak like a mouse, my throat hurting. My hand goes to it as if rubbing my throat from the outside will help.

News flash. It doesn’t.

I didn’t want things to go down like this, but I guess there’s no easy solution to this tangled web I’ve woven. Why can’t I stay out of trouble?

Sven jumps from his seat, grabbing at his friend’s shoulder from behind, as if trying to hold him back. I can’t quite read Sven’s expression—it’s like he’s wearing a mask. But the first words come from Eric, not the other two.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice calm—not angry, but his confusion unmistakable. As he uncoils from his seat across the aisle, he swivels, his gaze locking onto me. “Why are you here?”

I feel like a burglar caught in the act as Sven glances from Eric to Levi and silently mouths the word, “Fuck.”

Yeah, that’s my take on all this, too. And none of them even know the rest of it. If they’re reacting this badly to me being on their plane, what will they do when they hear about my new position? Especially since I’ll be invading their personal space.

My vision begins to fade at the edges, the world around me growing darker with every breath I can’t take. Concern crinkles across the foreheads of Eric, Sven, and the flight attendant who’s suddenly appeared behind me. Even Levi’s over-the-top irritation seems to dull, but maybe that’s just the dizzying wave crashing over me.

The atmosphere around me goes suddenly flat, as if the very life has been sucked from the air. And then, like a candle snuffed out in an instant, everything goes black.

Chapter 2

LEVI

Jockeying forward, I drop to my knees next to this woman I’ve succeeded in freaking out so much that she’s literally lost consciousness. She’d stood there like a deer in headlights—appropriate, since she has big brown doe eyes. Not that those eyes are visible now. Thanks to me.

A male flight attendant in a crisp uniform had managed to catch her from behind before she could hit the floor, preventing what could’ve been an even bigger disaster. Now, he kneels beside her, waving a hand over her face as if that’ll somehow help. “Miss? Miss, can you hear me?”

I might have overreacted to her being on the flight. Okay, I totally did. And now I feel like such a shit for it. Sure, Sven, Eric, and I have had our share of puck bunnies who’ve joined us in bed just for the bragging rights. We’ve each had to deal with threats of our bare asses showing up on fan blogs, chatrooms, and basically every form of social media that exists.

Eric was even blackmailed once. She tried to claim she was pregnant with his love child until the publicists and attorneys got involved. A demand for a paternity test proved that he wasn’t, and after that, her story went the way of the dodo.

But the terror on this particular woman’s face tells me she didn’t expect us to be here, and that’s not how someone looking for a quick payday acts.

So, I might have made a false accusation.

Also, watching her go down like that took at least ten years off my life.

“Miss?” The flight attendant keeps trying, his voice calm but persistent. “Wake up, hon.”

“Is she breathing?” Sven asks. He’s the only one of us with CPR training, taking his captain duties extra seriously. “Does she have a pulse?”

The flight attendant must have training as well because he presses two fingers to the carotid artery at her neck. “Yes, and it looks like her airways are clear.”