Pucked (Pucked 1)

I’m confident I can make it across this particular surface without falling again. Holding onto Alex’s well-defined forearm definitely helps.

“Don’t you want to see what Alex brought you? He’s such a doll!” My mom makes flailing hand gestures between Alex and the flowers.

The bouquet is even more extravagant than the ones he sent previously. I’m torn. I don’t want him to think I don’t like or appreciate them. I also need to get the hell away from my mother. If given the opportunity for further mortification, she’ll pull out my Mathletes trophies from high school. I pick up the bouquet and give it a quick sniff.

“These are beautiful. Thank you.” Alex beams like a spotlight at the compliment.

“Can you put these in some water, please?” I ask my mom.

“Don’t you want to invite Alex in for a drink? Sidney’s making me a Manhattan. It’s cocktail hour!”

His warm reply negates my snide response. “Thank you for the invitation, but we have dinner reservations. Maybe another time.”

“Oh! Of course! You kids have fun. I’m sure Sidney will be more than happy to have me all to himself tonight!”

“Okay, well, we don’t want to be late!” I tug on Alex’s sleeve, praying my mother doesn’t say anything else to further my humiliation. This is exactly why I need to move into an apartment far away from her.

Alex helps me into my coat and my mother waves us off.

“Sorry about her,” I say as we walk down the path to the driveway. It’s icy, so I hold his arm. “Parent introductions aren’t supposed to happen until the fifty-seventh date or something.”

“No worries. I think she likes me.”

“She’s embarrassing.”

“Aren’t all parents?”

He opens the passenger door and helps me in. I feel like an idiot. Here I am, a grown woman, still living in my parent’s pool house. Yet another reason I should’ve suggested meeting him at the restaurant. He puts the car in gear and we’re on our way downtown.

“Are you okay? That fall looked like it hurt.” His palm comes to rest on the back of my neck.

“My giant booty broke my fall.”

“I happen to like your booty . . . almost as much as I like your other assets.”

“Speaking of which, the Victoria’s Secret gift certificate is excessive.”

“You used it?”

“Maybe, b—”

“What’d you get?” His eyes move to my chest. It’s covered by my jacket. “Did you spend it all?”

“You want to know if I bought something for my boobs?”

“Maybe. Did you?” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Maybe.”

Alex hums and nods, his attention on the road once again.

It doesn’t take long to reach our destination, which is a good thing because discussing lingerie purchases makes me nervous about what could happen later. Alex turns into the parking lot of a swanky restaurant and pulls into a spot near the door. “If you did happen to buy something for your boobs, I don’t expect to see it tonight.”

“You don’t want to see it?”

He caresses my nape with his thumb. “I didn’t say that. I don’t have any expectations beyond dinner. I realize the gift card may make it come across like I do.”

This is why I like him. Well, one of the reasons. I lean in. Alex mirrors the movement until our lips are less than an inch apart.

“What are you waiting for?”

He bridges the gap. I’m not interested in chaste kisses. I have to sit across from him during dinner. We could be in the restaurant for hours. It doesn’t look like the kind of place where we can sneak into the bathroom for a quickie. Not that I’m considering it as an option. Since sex isn’t an expectation, I suddenly want it to be. I grab the front of his jacket and strain to get closer. Maybe this is how reverse psychology is supposed to work.

With a low groan, he releases me. “As much as I’d like this to continue, we’re going to be late for our reservation if we keep it up much longer.”

He goes in for one last kiss. I’m into this wooing business. If dinner goes well, we can always pick up where we left off.

Alex is very much a gentleman. He opens doors and helps me out of my coat once we’re inside the restaurant. “You look gorgeous. I love this dress.”

It’s red and clingy with a low neckline. Charlene made me buy it last summer. I never had a reason to wear it until now.

Alex takes off his jacket. He looks sophisticated and sexy in his black button-down dress shirt and charcoal gray pants. His tie matches my dress. Almost like we planned it.

The hostess takes us to a private table in a small room, away from the other guests. Alex passes me the wine list once we’re seated.

“There aren’t any prices,” I whisper after the waiter fills our water glasses.