Pucked Over (Pucked 3)

And again.

But that’s too bad because I hate him. Smug bastard.

I hate him more because I can’t get my body on board. He was supposed to be a distraction. A fling. Screwing around for the sake of gratification and nothing else. He’s the last man I should want. He’s a player. He lives for the game. On ice, off ice, it’s all the same. And I don’t want to make the mistake of ramming my tongue down his throat yet again. I’ve already embarrassed myself enough when it comes to Randy Ballistic.Chapter 1Run, Run, Run!LILYThe game is over, and Sunny—formally known as Sunshine Waters—my best friend since grade one, is currently projected on the Jumbotron for the entire arena to view. Miller is mauling her while “Walking on Sunshine” blasts through the sound system in celebration of his team’s win. Actually, the real winner is a twelve-year-old boy named Michael and his family. Proceeds from this charity event are going toward his treatment. He has a brain tumor.

Miller and Sunny’s overly affectionate display would be cute if I wasn’t such a jaded bitch. Right now I hate everyone in happy relationships, including Sunny.

Okay, that’s not entirely true. If anyone deserves someone to love all over her, it’s Sunny. Prior to Miller, her boyfriends were sucky.

He, however, is a great guy. I didn’t think so at first, but like mold, he’s grown on me. I look away from the screen when they kiss, surveying the rink and the players milling around off the ice. I’m seeking out one player in particular, just to torture myself.

I spot Randy about twenty feet away from them, his helmet under his arm. His beard is lush and magical, and his grin is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. He runs a sweaty hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face. It’s wet. Probably sweat-soaked. I should find that gross. I don’t.

Instead, a backbeat starts up in my clit—full percussion. It’s like a deejay made a home in my underwear, and my vagina’s where all the bass resides. Fuuuuuck. Why does he have to be so hot? Why was I such an asshole last time I saw him? The tiny flutter in my stomach turns into a tornado of hummingbirds. Heat lasers from my vagina through my body, exploding in my cheeks.

“Come on, Lily!” Daisy Waters, Sunny’s mom and my “Momma Two,” as I’ve come to refer to her over the years, tugs on my arm. “Let’s go upstairs to the bar and get ourselves a drink before everyone gets there!”

I look away from the insane hotness, shutting down my memories before I melt into the floor and lose the ability to speak.

“Can I have pop? And can I order some food?” Brett, my thirteen-year-old cousin asks. He’s endlessly hungry, and he’s with me tonight because he’s friends with Michael—and he’d say Miller and Randy as well—after going to the hockey camp they volunteered at this summer.

“There’s tons of food! Don’t you worry!” Daisy ruffles his hair.

He ducks out from under her hand and hurriedly rearranges his ’do. In the past month he’s gone from wearing jogging pants and not caring what he looks like to spending forty-five minutes in the bathroom, fixing his hair and using far too much body spray. It could be worse. He could smell like most preteen boys: more goat than human.

Daisy links arms with me, chatting away about the engagement party she’s throwing in two weeks for Sunny’s brother, Alex, and his fiancée, Violet. She rambles on about how excited she is. This party has been a constant topic of conversation over the past month. It’s pretty much all anyone’s been talking about—that and this fundraiser.

Sunny’s older brother also plays professional hockey. Alex is center and team captain for Chicago, the team Miller and Randy also play for. Violet, Alex’s fiancée, is actually Miller’s stepsister. It’s a weird circle of love—almost like a soap opera, but with athletes and without inter-dating.

I spent an excessive amount of time at Sunny’s house as a kid, and she and I annoyed the hell out of Alex on the rare occasions when he was home. He spent most of his life at the arena. He’s a little strange, and I knew him before his hockey fame, so I’m well aware of his nerd status in high school. I guess he’s hot, but I can’t see him as anything other than a surrogate brother who used to help me and Sunny with our homework.

Daisy’s still talking, but I’m not paying attention. I’m too preoccupied with the fact that we’re about to pass all the players, and Randy’s still there, a smile on his gorgeous, sweaty face.

“Of course you’re coming with us. Can you get the weekend off work?” Daisy asks.

“Oh yeah, for sure.” I nod absently.