Pucked Love (Pucked 6)

“That’s totally reasonable.” I nod my agreement. “I feel the same way about RVs.”

“Bad people are everywhere,” Sunny says softly, still rubbing her belly. “I’m glad this one will have an older brother to protect him or her.”

Violet and Sunny start talking about what it’s like to have an older brother. Violet’s experience is a lot different than Sunny’s. Skye and Sidney married when Violet was a teenager, and she and Miller only had to go to the same high school for a year. But Miller and Vi really do act like brother and sister, and always have, as far as I know.

We pull into Violet’s driveway a few minutes later. There are yellow balloons tied to the trees with Happy Birthday written on them.

I give Violet the eye. “I thought this was going to be more like a Memorial Day Weekend party.”

She shrugs. “We’re celebrating all the things, and as your best friend, I reserve the right to make a big deal out of your birthday even if you won’t. Plus, Darren can be pushy when he feels like talking and making demands.”

“He’s good at that, the making demands part,” I agree.

The guys are already in the backyard, playing Frisbee in the pool.

“The birthday girl has arrived!” Violet yells.

Darren turns as Lance lets the Frisbee go and ends up getting clocked in the back of the head. He nabs it before Randy can and hurls it back at Lance.

“Aye, fucker! It’s nae my fault yer no payin’ attention!” Lance’s usually mild Scottish accent grows thick, and he winks in my direction as Darren wades to the shallow end. He pulls himself out of the pool, wearing a sinister smile as he rushes me.

“Don’t you dare! I don’t even have my bathing suit on yet!”

“You should’ve been better prepared, firefly.” His smile widens as he hauls me against him. My yellow sundress soaks through and I push on his chest, trying to get free, but it’s impossible.

“You’re not supposed to run on the pool deck!” I shriek as his lips find my neck, and then we’re airborne. The water is warm, but still a shock when we go under.

Darren brushes my hair away from my face and bubbles burst out of his mouth as he laughs, possibly at my expression. He launches us skyward when our feet touch the bottom of the pool.

Before I can yell at him for ruining my hair and the only outfit I brought with me, he grips the back of my neck and locks our mouths together. Someone whistles, and I’m pretty sure Randy tells us to get a room.

“You’re a jerk,” I mumble around his tongue.

He laughs and swims me to the shallow end. “I’m your jerk.”

“You could’ve waited until I was wearing a bathing suit! I don’t even have a change of clothes.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you more than covered.” He grabs a towel from the edge of the pool. “Want some help changing out of your wet clothes?”

“From you? Nope.” I push on his chest, biting back a grin as I climb out and wrap myself in the towel.

“We’ll get him back for you later, Char,” Miller calls after me.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I’m more than capable of making him pay for his transgressions, and I’m sure my punishment will be far worse than anything any of you can dream up.” I arch a brow at Darren and grab my bag, smiling at the chorus of laughter that follows me into the pool house.

Darren and I both know any kind of “punishment” I’ll be doling out will be of the teasing variety, but they don’t need to know that, and sometimes it’s fun to keep them guessing.

It’s a hot day in late May, and the air conditioning is on in the pool house. Goose bumps flash over my skin as I pad across the cold tile floor to the bathroom. On the counter is a yellow gift bag tied with a bow. My name is written on the little card in Darren’s neat cursive.

Before I open the gift, I strip out of my clothes and wrap myself in the towel. I pull the satin ribbon, wondering if the whole dragging-me-into-the-pool business was an orchestrated move. I assume so. Darren doesn’t do anything without plan or purpose. I remove the tissue paper, noting the firefly print.

Inside is a small package wrapped in more tissue paper; this time lavender. I pluck at it from the back and gently tear the paper.

A soft knock is followed by the twist of the doorknob. “Charlene?” I’m unsurprised that Darren has followed me. I’m curious as to what his plan is—whether it’s going to be a delayed-gratification day, or the kind where we sneak off and satisfy our cravings for each other in short bursts of need and want. I’m banking on the latter since it’s my birthday, and I should be able to call all the shots.