Page 18 of Just my Puck (Love & Laughter #1)

LUCY

W e pull up in front of Patty’s small house a few minutes later, which is nestled amongst a row of other modest homes near the arena. We’re with Steele in his sturdy Jeep while Jason follows close behind in his flashy Range Rover.

“Bye, girl,” Patty says, waggling her eyebrows.

Snickering, I shake my head, but it sets my nerves pinging like crazy.

As we leave Patty at her doorstep, I wave and sit back, going stiff when Steele places his hand lightly on my thigh for a few seconds before removing it to change gears.

Relaxing again, I wonder if I’ve made a big mistake agreeing to this.

I don’t really know Steele, as lovely as he is and as well as we get on, this could be construed as foolish, and I don’t do foolish things.

Usually.

Tonight seems to be shaking all sorts of things out of the tree that I didn’t know were there prior to leaving my apartment.

It’s a night of revelations, and every bone in my body is telling me to go with it, but at the same time, my head is protesting vigorously.

It’s like the classic Angel and Devil on my shoulder scenario.

Who should I listen to?

The anticipation is almost too much to bear.

My heart races with excitement and trepidation, both feelings warring for dominance.

My mind keeps revisiting Steele’s stuffed penguin gift, which sits on my lap like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

He’s already seen it, and I’m practically mauling it to death with my nervousness.

Maybe I should buy him a brand-new one. That would probably go down better than a stuffie I stole from someone else.

There again, they shouldn’t have thrown it at me.

Thrown items are fair game. It’s a well-known fact. Isn’t it?

And as for what he wants to ask me? The possibilities race through my mind, each one more enticing and frightening than the last.

But none of that matters as we pull through the electric gates at Steele’s sprawling estate, which he tells me he shares with Jason and their goalie Carter. I don’t know him or what he looks like. He seems to keep to himself a bit more; either that, or I’m just oblivious, or maybe a bit of both.

Struck by how opulent the mansion is—from the water feature out front to the massive, wrought iron gates sliding shut behind us, it’s overwhelming but also thrilling. This is how the other half live, and it’s definitely a lot nicer than my place.

“You okay?” Steele asks as he climbs out of the Jeep and comes around to open the door for me.

Feeling like an idiot, just sitting there with my sweaty hands all over Puddles the Penguin, I grin, probably too broadly.

He smirks and takes my hand. “If you don’t want to go inside, that’s fine. I can drive you home.”

I’m quick to reply. “No, we’re here now.”

He nods and leads me inside the magnificent, tiled entrance hall that shows off an extremely impressive open-plan living and dining area with the kitchen off to the side.

“Wow,” I mutter, feeling inferior and way out of my depth. I don’t belong in a place like this. Okay, maybe as the maid or the cook or the pool girl.

Is there a pool?

Probably.

Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that this will all be worth it—however wild or dangerous it might seem. Who knows where this could lead?

A male voice calls from outside, startling me. “Out here!”

It fires up my nervous engine even more, and I’m on the verge of telling Steele I want to leave when he draws me out onto the most gorgeous deck I’ve ever seen, with tiny spotlights dotted around the edge.

A large hot tub sits off to the right, but directly in front of me, past the expanse of lawn, tall palm trees, and swimming pool, is the bay.

“Wow,” I murmur again.

Steele beams, pulling me a little bit closer to him. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“That word is wholly inadequate,” I breathe, inhaling the sea air and wishing I could stay here forever.

But in my dreams. I would have to win the lottery before that ever happened.

The warm night air soothes my skin as we walk over to the hot tub, where Carter, I presume, is soaking with his head back, a beer in his hand.

“Beer’s cold if you want one.” He indicates the cooler, raising his head, his gaze landing on me. “We have guests. Good thing I’m not naked in here.”

“One guest and, eww,” Jason chuckles. “If you ever let your hairy balls loose in there, you can pay for it to be drained, scrubbed, and refilled. Lucy, this is Carter.”

Raising my hand into an awkward half-wave, I smile. “Hi.”

Looking up at Steele for reassurance, he is staring at me in a really intense way. It softens when he catches my eye and says, “Do you want to…” gesturing to the hot tub.

Panic flares up, and I take a step back, pulling my hand from his. “Uhm, n-no,” I stammer. “I don’t have a bathing suit, and maybe that’s not such a?—”

“A beer,” he says, interrupting me. “Do you want to grab a beer?”

“Ooh,” I mutter, relief flooding me that they don’t expect me to jump naked into the hot tub with them.

Them.

This is starting to sound like a really, really bad idea.

Shaking my head, I know, without even thinking about it, that I have to stay sober. “No, thanks. Not a big beer drinker.”

“I can get you a soda from the kitchen,” Steele murmurs.

His attitude has changed slightly in that he seems more withdrawn and scowling, but his hand in mine is firm and cool, so I don’t think it has anything to do with him changing his mind about me.

Hopefully.

“There’s Perrier in the fridge if you want one.”

Scrunching my nose up, I ask, “What’s that?”

Carter smiles, which lights up his whole face. He is crazy hot and way more my type than Steele, with his blonde hair, blue eyes, and hot bod that seems to be the norm with these guys.

“Fancy French fizzy water.”

“Oh, that sounds nice!”

“Help yourself, Lucy.”

“I’ll get it,” Steele says.

Distracted from the situation where I’m outnumbered, out-heighted, and out-strengthed, I let Steele lead me back into the house.

“If you’re really uncomfortable, I can drive you home. It’s no problem,” he says, letting go of me to open the enormous fridge I could probably stand in.

My thoughts suddenly wander to these three guys murdering me and storing me upright in the fridge until they can get rid of my body.

“Errr,” I stammer, wishing I could disappear on a whim.

“It’s just that we have some privacy here, and there is something I need to ask you. It’s awkward, and you will probably think I’m crazy, but I need you to hear me out. Do you think you can do that?” he asks seriously, removing the cap from the small green glass bottle and pouring it into a glass.

Watching the bubbles fizz up, I contemplate his words. “Are you dumping me?”

He stops pouring, placing the bottle down on the counter, which he then leans against to regard me with a severe frown. “No, I’m not dumping you, Lucy. I like you a lot. More than I’ve liked anyone in a really long time. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

“Okay, then what is it?” Curiosity has gotten the better of my nerves, and now I need to know what this thing is.

Remembering Puddles, I suddenly hold it up. “Oh, this is for you.”

I’m surprised and delighted when his eyes light up, and he smiles. “For me?” He takes it from me and studies it.

“Full disclosure, it’s stolen.” I chew my lip when he raises an eyebrow. “I mean, someone threw it at me, and I kept it.”

He snorts. “Good for you. Are you sure you don’t want to keep it as a souvenir?”

“No, I want you to have it. If you want it, of course.”

“I want it. Does he have a name?”

“Puddles.”

“Puddles. Suits him.” His forest green eyes twinkling with amusement, he adds, “Do you have a name for me?”

Looking at my shoes, suddenly embarrassed, I nod.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to say now. It’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb, little one. And you owe me.” He takes one of his giant steps toward me and enters my personal space. He throws Puddles on the counter and takes my hands, placing them on his broad, muscular chest before he covers them with his own. “Say it.”

His voice is husky, and the pang that goes through my body now has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with desire.

“It’s because of your jersey number.”

His eyes narrow. “Go on.”

“Sweet sixteen. So you’re my sweet boy.”

Hoping the ground opens up and swallows me, I’m shocked when he closes his eyes and breathes out. “Fuck, Lucy. It’s perfect.”

“It is?”

He opens his eyes and grasps my chin lightly, tilting my head back. “Absolutely perfect.” Leaning down, he brushes his lips over mine lightly but, to my disappointment, doesn’t take it any further as Carter and Jason join us in the kitchen, and Carter asks, “Well, Lucky Lucy, how’s the Perrier?”