Pucked Off (Pucked 5)

I tilted my head to the side, unsure what he meant. But before I had a chance to answer, Kristi was yelling in my ear about how she was going to get him to take her home that night and stealing my shot.

“I’ll do hers. She doesn’t drink.” She gave Lance a simpering smile.

They did another round, and I took a tiny sip of the one Lance had handed me. I must have made a face at how strong it was, because he laughed and took it from me. He put his mouth to my ear. “You’re not a big partier, are you?”

“Not really.”

“That’s good. You look like a good girl. You can take care of me, tonight, ’kay? Make sure I don’t do anything I might regret.” He ran his fingers through my ponytail, and I felt the end of his nose touch my cheek. “What’s yer name?”

I yelled my name over the music, but it was hard to hear and he got it wrong.

“What’re you two talking about?” Kristi yelled in his ear before I had a chance to correct him.

“Hey, Romance, you gonna take a little break from your friends and order more shots, or you need me to do it for you?” Randy asked, his arm slung around Kristi’s friend Felicity’s shoulder.

Lance sucked in a breath, but lifted his head. I watched shadows pass behind his eyes as he turned to his teammate.

“Wanna get off my dick, Balls?” A sloppy grin broke across his face, and he ordered yet another round of shots, doing mine for me once again.

Kristi slid in beside him, taking my place, and I did nothing to stop her.

When he invited us back to his place, I considered going home, but Kristi had my phone and wallet in her purse, and she told me I should live a little. I could’ve insisted on getting my things from her, but my curiosity and fascination won out, and I went along for the ride.

When we got in the limo, Randy and Felicity got friendly, Kristi dropped down beside Lance, and I found out all the rumors I’d tried so hard to ignore about him were true.CHAPTER 8BLANK SPACES

LANCE

Usually I don’t have a problem coming home to emptiness, but tonight I don’t like it. Panic makes me jittery every time my phone pings with another message. Being alone means free time, and I could use a distraction from the forty-three text messages—it dings again; make that forty-four—currently unread on my phone.

They’re all from Tash.

Not having my phone today was a blessing because it meant I couldn’t read or respond to anything. But now that I have it back, it’s hard not to check them, though I know it won’t do me any good to read them.

I take a minute to call my agent and my publicist. Turns out the guy I got into a fight with has a record a mile long, including several charges for domestic violence, so my stepping in actually makes me look good—not bad like I expected. It makes the aches and stitches almost worth it.

I toss my phone on the kitchen counter and open the fridge. Vodka seems like a good choice. My mum used to drink a lot of vodka. She always said it was water, but then her breath smelled like rubbing alcohol. I find a glass and fill it halfway, not bothering with ice or a mix. I grab the bottle and the glass and pass through my living room to the sliding glass doors.

Poppy said I should spend some time in the hot tub. That seems like a better idea than getting dragged into more Tash-style crap tonight.

I step out onto the back patio. The pool is covered to keep it warm, as I haven’t emptied it yet. The weather has stayed nice longer than it usually does. I set the bottle and the glass on the bar out back and flip the lid off the hot tub. Steam billows out, fogging the air briefly. I haven’t had a party in a while, so I know it’s clean. I strip down to nothing—there’s no one here, and my neighbors can’t see me—grab my drink and the bottle, and climb into the tub. Sinking down, I close my eyes. The heat feels good, but the silence is hard to take. It makes it difficult to drown out all the shit in my head.

I keep thinking this thing with Tash is going to end—that she’ll get tired of screwing me around. But every time she’s in town, she sends me messages, and every time I give in and the same stupid shit happens.

It’s a lot like how my mum used to be with me. There were good moments, times when I thought she gave a shit about more than the bottom line, more than status and prestige. But after Quinn died, everything changed.