Pucked (Pucked 1)

“Is there a back door?” She fidgets with the hem of her shirt.

“There is. The car’s parked out front, though.”

“Okay. Yeah. Uh . . .” Violet rummages through her purse for something. It’s huge, almost the size of a duffle bag. I’m not sure why girls need such big purses. It seems like it makes it difficult to find things. After a couple of minutes she still hasn’t found what she’s searching for. Her shoulders slump and she sighs.

“What’s up?” I tuck my finger under her chin and coax her to look at me.

“Oh, I don’t know. Your mother just caught us with your hand in my underwear. I’m not interested in running into her at the moment.”

“I just talked to her about that—”

Violet looks like she’s about to have a heart attack. “You what?”

“About her privacy issues.” The rest of the conversation I’ll keep to myself. Violet’s already stressed enough; she doesn’t need to know I’ve been fighting with my mother over her.

“Oh.” Her shoulders relax a little. “I still don’t want to see her right now, so can we go out the back? I’m already nervous about meeting your friends. Avoiding more awkwardness would be great.”

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want.” I steal a kiss.

Violet softens, allowing me to deepen it for a few seconds before she pulls away.

“My friends are just as laid-back as my dad. You’ll get along with them no problem.”

“You think so?”

“Trust me. You’re going to love them.”

We take the back stairs and walk around the side of the house to avoid another run-in with my mother.

“So . . .” I’m about to introduce her to my closest friends. These are the guys I grew up with—the ones who knew me before I became a seven-figure earner. They have tons of dirt on me . . . and not the kind that makes me look good.

“I’ll get over the thing with your mom,” she says. “As long as she never brings it up. Ever.”

“She won’t.” She better not. I put my hand on Violet’s leg and give her thigh a squeeze. “There’s something you should probably know.”

“Please don’t tell me you had gender reassignment surgery. I don’t think I can manage that today.”

“What?”

“Sorry.” She crosses and uncrosses her legs. “You sound serious. It’s making me nervous.”

I try not to laugh. “I assure you, all my parts are my own.”

“That’s a relief; otherwise you would’ve had the biggest vagina in the world as a woman.”

I laugh because, honestly, the shit that goes through her head sometimes baffles me.

“You’d probably win the Guinness world record for that.” She sinks into her seat and puts her hand over mine. “You wanted to tell me something.”

“Just a heads-up. I was kinda dorky as a kid.”

“I have a degree in accounting and finance. The nerd award belongs to me.” She gives me the side eye. “I really can’t imagine you looking dorky.”

If my mother brings out more photographs like the one she used as a shield earlier today, Violet will know exactly what I’m talking about.

“The guys you’re going to meet tonight are more chess club than hockey player.”

“Like Jimmy and Dean from work?”

“Who?”

“The guys you met the day you locked me in the conference room.”

She makes it sound so bad. “Oh. Yeah. Like those guys.”

It only takes a few minutes to make the trip downtown, and I manage to find a spot close to the pub. Reid and Dave have already secured a table and ordered a pitcher of beer. We slap each other on the back, and I introduce them to Violet.

Dave wraps her up in a wiry hug. “It’s great to finally meet you. Alex hasn’t shut up about you for the past few weeks.”

“Oh, really?” Violet gives me a questioning look. “What kind of things has he said?”

“That’s under the cone, bro,” I reply.

“Don’t worry. He’ll have to go to the bathroom at some point. You can tell me everything then,” Violet stage-whispers.

Reid laughs. “I like her already.”

I pull Violet into my side and kiss her temple. “See? I told you.”

We settle into the booth, and Dave and Reid cheerfully throw me under the bus, regaling Violet with embarrassing stories of my youth. I was not a cool kid.

We’re already through dinner and on our second pitcher of beer when Violet excuses herself to use the bathroom. I let her out of the booth and watch her ass as she navigates her way through the crowd. There’s a little weave in her step. She’s small; the beer hits her hard.

“You must really like this one,” Reid says.

I keep my eyes on the table. “Things are casual for now.”

Dave scoffs. “Cut the bullshit. You tell me the last time you brought a girl home for the weekend to meet the parents.”

“Or us,” Reid adds.

“She’s fun to be around.”