Easy Puck

by Belle, Melissa

  But even that doesn’t get a rise out of her. She just gives me the smallest of smiles before darting out the door and down the walkway.

  I step out onto the front porch. Within thirty seconds, I hear the squeal of tires, and I watch as the taxi she’s jumped into disappears.

  I stare down the empty street and shake my head.

  Something just fucking happened. I didn’t imagine it.

  I run my hand over my face as I look down at Theo.

  He looks back at me like he knows exactly what’s going on and I’m the only idiot standing here in the dark.

  I frown at him. “How the fuck do you know? You just met her. I’ve known her my whole damn life!”

  Another haughty glance hits me before Theo starts cleaning his paws.

  “Fine,” I say to him. “So you’re smarter than I am. But you’re also a cat. So you have some limitations with women. I’m going to use all the tools at my disposal to figure out exactly what Winter Princess Allen’s secrets are. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

  I’ve never had anything better to do than figure out Winter. And now that I’m going to be living with her in the same house, I can do just that.

  I reach for my phone to cancel my date with Deb. As much as meeting up with her would no doubt help my tension, I’m no longer in the mood to see any woman but one.

  Chapter 4

  Winter

  I stare out the window as the taxicab hurtles me through the French Quarter.

  I wanted to kiss Hunter so badly, more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time.

  But the pain of what happened six months ago stopped me cold. Just like it’s been stopping me from nailing an audition.

  My hormones are firing on all cylinders, and I swear my nipples are still hard from Hunter’s eyes on them. If I’d known ahead of time that I’d be living with him, I would have used my vibrator as much as possible in Manhattan to get any feelings of need out of my system. Because not having been with someone in ages, combined with my combustible reaction whenever I’m within a hundred feet of Hunter Storm, has me all sorts of crazy right now.

  The lighted sign for Head Over Heels pops into view, and I call out for the driver to stop.

  I need to see my parents, but I’m going to take a detour and visit my best friend first.

  I pay the cab fare and hop out. The store sign says closed, but I can see Charly through the glass. She stands on her toes to fix a set of shoes, and I smile. Charly was always petite. I called her a petite force because it seemed like whatever she wanted, she just set her mind to until she achieved it. Her dark hair matches the entire Boudreaux clan, and as usual, she’s rocking an absolutely perfect pair of shoes.

  I knock on the glass door lightly. Charly turns around and immediately runs to the door and opens it for me.

  Then, she pulls me into a huge hug.

  “Look at you!” She holds out her arms. “You look amazing! I love your shoes!”

  “You gave them to me!” I say with a laugh. “And I noticed yours from outside.” I gesture to her red heels. “They’re awesome.”

  “While you look amazing...” She studies my face. “You seem upset, Win. Is everything all right?”

  I wish I could tell her the truth. Because I have no doubt she’d understand.

  But, right now, I need help with…

  “Hunter Storm is my boss.”

  Charly’s eyes go wide. “What—”

  “And my new housemate. All in one.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “I know.”

  She reaches behind her cash register, grabs her purse, and slips her arm through mine. “This kind of problem requires alcohol to sort out. Let’s go to The Odyssey.”

  * * *

  “Wow,” I say as Charly leads me up the stairs inside The Odyssey and over to a free set of couches positioned around a gas fireplace. “This place is gorgeous.”

  Music drifts up from Jackson Square, and Charly and I settle across from each other on a couch.

  “Callie owns this place, right?” I ask Charly.

  Callie is Charly’s sister-in-law. She’s married to Charly’s brother, Declan, another Boudreaux I grew up with.

  Charly slips off her shoes and tucks her feet underneath her on the couch. “She does. I can’t believe you’ve never been here.”

  “I haven’t been back since Callie returned to New Orleans,” I remind her. “I only met her at your wedding in London.”

  “I know. I just always remember you here.” She laughs. “I sound like a grandmother or something.”

  I understand what she means. Time seems to stop when you’re at home.

  Callie approaches us with a smile. She’s tall and blonde with a killer style. Today, she’s wearing a flared red skirt and classy silk top along with her full sleeve of tattoos. She’s totally Declan Boudreaux’s type, and I love that they found each other.

  I don’t know her well, but Callie surprises me with a warm hug. “Welcome home,” she says to me.

  “Thank you.”

  She studies my face. “If you’re feeling anything close to what I was when I returned home, you may not be as excited as we all are that you’re here.”

  I laugh. “It’s been an adjustment, that’s for sure.”

  “Take your time adjusting,” she advises me. “It’s different for everyone.”

  “Winter’s got a boy problem already,” Charly says to her.

  Callie sits down on the adjacent couch. “Tell me. I’m a bartender. I can help.”

  I throw up my hands. “I don’t think anyone can help me with Hunter Storm.”

  Callie’s eyes widen. “Hunter Storm, the star of the New Orleans Fire? I met him once through Declan. They don’t hang out a lot, but you all grew up together, right?”

  “We did,” I say. “He and I were pretty close.”

  Charly snorts. “That’s an understatement. Those two were so into each other. I still can’t believe you never dated.”

  Me neither. “Timing,” I say in a forced tone. “We were both so career-oriented.”

  “He’s hot as hell,” Callie says with a teasing smile in my direction.

  “He is,” I agree. “That’s a fact. But he’s…complicated.”

  “He seems like he’d be pretty intense,” Callie says.

  “He’s had to deal with some difficult stuff.” Charly’s voice turns sad. “Hunter’s daddy was murdered when the boys were teenagers. The police never found the murderer.”

  Callie covers her mouth with her hand. “How tragic. Aren’t all four Storm brothers in the pros?”

  I nod. “They were single-minded in that. Their dad was their biggest fan. Once he was gone, I think they all felt like they owed it to him to make it.”

  “Well, it’s incredible that they all did.” Callie looks at me. “So what’s the backstory between you and Hunter?”

  “They had endless ‘almosts’ but never sealed the deal,” Charly says.

  “And I can’t live with him now,” I say, hating how vulnerable I sound when I say it. “The risk feels ridiculously large. I was there for all of ten minutes, and I already had trouble keeping my hands off of him.”

  “Win and Hunter have a nuclear attraction,” Charly says to Callie. “It’s even hot to watch them flirt. You’ll see.”

  “You won’t see,” I say. “Because I can’t socialize with him.” I turn to Charly. “Maybe you can set me up with somebody harmless and safe while I’m here, someone I can flirt with but not actually desire. Someone who doesn’t come with a giant warning label like Hunter Storm.”

  Charly and Callie burst out laughing. “That sounds like the opposite of boyfriend material,” Callie says. “Or even hot fling material. Why would you want to date someone you don’t even want?”

  I play it off with a laugh, but inside, I’m shaking. The idea of being with any man after being attacked by one…it just doesn’t feel possible right now. Maybe someday, but not yet.


  “So, what are you going to do about your living situation?” Charly asks me.

  I shake my head. “I have no fucking clue.”

  I came home to heal, and Hunter and I…we’re too combustible to be healthy.

  Besides, the darkness that’s surrounded me for the past six months has been threatening to engulf me utterly, and I haven’t found the exit door to escape my pain.

  What happened to me could have happened to anyone.

  I tell myself that every day. But the shame, and the fear, eats away at me anyway. Being attacked put me in a place of vulnerability where now, every time I step outside, I feel exposed. Like the world knows my secret and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. And every morning, I get up and look out at the sun, praying today will be the day the world will stop feeling black.

  Seeing Hunter again is the first time I felt a ray of sunshine return to my soul.

  The easy banter we still had with each other earlier and the way he looked at me, I felt…wanted. Desired. But I know him—he won’t be satisfied with surface-level chit-chat. He never was. So I need to keep him at arm’s length. Because I don’t want anyone to know why Pat really sent me home, and if I let him in, Hunter won’t give up until he learns the truth.

  Chapter 5

  Hunter

  I show up at the Allen mansion early the next morning. I figure Winter could use some help moving her stuff, and I don’t have practice until later. Wanting to see her again and make sure she doesn’t change her mind on moving in with me has nothing to do with it. Right.

  The Allens live on the other side of the city from where I grew up. The rich side of the Big Easy. I may be living well now, but it wasn’t always that way. My mama died when we were all young, and my dad did his best to make ends meet. He ran a convenience store that doubled as a gas station, and we spent hours there after school. It seemed like a good gig for him. Until he was shot and killed one night in a robbery hold-up.

  I step out of my truck and try to ignore the lurching feeling in the pit of my stomach. I haven’t been here in years, and the last time I left, I swore it would be the last.

  I take off my baseball cap and start up the perfectly-manicured walkway toward the house. The chirping birds and bright sky belie my sense of foreboding as I get closer and closer to the front door Mr. Allen threw me out of on more than one occasion for being a “bad influence on his daughter.”

  I reach the red wooden door and ring the bell. The doorbell sounds the same: large and brass and irritating.

  A long wait before the door finally swings open, and Mrs. Allen greets me.

  “Hello, Hunter.” She frowns, not bothering to hide her dislike of me. Becoming a hockey star didn’t change her opinion of me—that I come from the wrong side of the tracks and was never good enough for her daughter.

  They gave Winter the middle name “Princess” for a reason—they want her to go through life not wanting for anything, and they expect that her husband will be able to give her the world. Even though I could do that now, the Allens will never see me that way. And in truth, I don’t know that I see myself that way either. I never forgot where I came from.

  “Ma’am.” I nod politely. “I’m here to help Winter move her things.”

  “Come on inside.” She takes a second look at me, and I know she’s about to ask me for a favor. Winter’s parents have never been shy about taking what they want. “I seem to remember you being handy around the house. Must be that blue-collar upbringing.” She sniffs.

  I barely resist a laugh. “Must be. What do you need help with, Mrs. Allen?”

  She beckons me toward the stairs. “Come with me.”

  * * *

  Winter

  The buzzing sound of a weed whacker wakes me early in the morning.

  I didn’t miss that when I lived in Manhattan. For some reason, the sounds of traffic and sirens disturbed me less. And my parents always make sure their lawn is perfectly manicured, which means an excessive amount of lawn care.

  I had a fitful night of sleep, and as I become fully awake, I expect to be greeted by that familiar foreboding feeling I’ve had for the past six months. Instead, Hunter pops into my head. The memory of him touching me yesterday is so strong that I actually miss him.

  The thing is—I don’t just miss him. I crave him. I want him so much suddenly that my hand is beneath my underwear in seconds. I stifle a moan as my fingers fly across my clit. All I’m thinking about is Hunter and the image of him driving into me while he looks at me with that unmistakable hunger in his eyes. We never had sex, but we did other things, and those things were always…hot.

  My face is heated and my breaths coming in short gasps when I hear—

  “Hunter, right this way.”

  What is he doing here?

  The footsteps are growing closer, and they stop just outside my bedroom door when Mama says, “I need you to change the faucets out in Winter’s bathroom. If she’s not awake yet, she should be. Let me just…”

  I’m up out of the bed in a flash. Certain my cheeks are bright red and everything about me screams, “I’ve been touching myself,” I dive headfirst into my massive walk-in closet, closing the door behind me.

  My mother’s knocks on the bedroom door are loud and firm. “Winter? Are you decent? Hunter’s going to fix those dreadful faucets out and fix the god-awful leak!”

  Hoping I can sneak out once Hunter’s immersed himself in his task, I stay quiet.

  Mama enters first. “Oh, she must have gotten up and I missed her downstairs somehow. Well, that’s easy enough to do in our spacious home. Okay, Hunter, come with me into the bathroom here.”

  Shit. I left my bra hanging on the towel rack.

  I listen at the closet door, but their voices are too low for me to make out any words. The majority of my clothing from New York is in suitcases downstairs, but I’m not going to risk seeing Hunter again in these see-through pajamas.

  I reach into a box I shipped from New York a year ago, and I grab the first clothing options I can find—which ends up being tiny jean cut-offs I haven’t worn in years; a hot pink bikini top because my only available bra is currently in the bathroom with Hunter; and a gray NYU sweatshirt from a guy my castmate set me up with. I don’t even know why I shipped the sweatshirt. The guy and I went out one time, and I basically shut the door on him when all he wanted to do was kiss me good night.

  But right now, I’m so wet from my Hunter fantasy a few minutes ago that the jeans press against me uncomfortably when I move.

  Not to mention I’m fully sexually frustrated in this moment, and the object of my morning desire is about five feet away. But he’s with my mother, of course, just to ruin the fantasy.

  I hear my mother leave the room, and I consider waiting it out until Hunter’s done, but that could be a while. And I need to pee.

  I open the closet door quietly and slip out. I tiptoe across my floor.

  Maybe Hunter will be too busy fixing the sink to notice me.

  “Morning, Princess.”

  No such luck.

  I turn toward the open bathroom door and lock eyes with him.

  “Morning.”

  He’s looking fine this morning.

  Sweet Lord.

  My toes curl.

  He’s shirtless, his t-shirt sitting uselessly on the sink counter behind him. His worn jeans ride low on his hips. All those muscles he uses to play professional ice hockey are on full display.

  I don’t even try to hide my staring.

  His abs are literally an eight-pack, and his chest is defined and lightly dusted with dark hair. No fat anywhere I can see.

  I haven’t seen Hunter without a shirt on since high school. He was always built, but he was a teenager. Now, he’s all man, and I actually feel my stomach clench with need.

  Forcing myself to look away, I point at the sink. “How did you get roped into helping with this?”

  “Your mama asked. Like she always does. You know.”
>
  Right. She doesn’t ask at all. She just demands.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I say. “But what were you doing here in the first place?”

  “I wanted to help you move. I’ve got a truck. Figured we could put your things in the back.”

  “That’s so thoughtful, Hunt.” I smile at him. “My mama’s lending me her spare car to use while I’m living here, so I can follow you back.”

  “Sounds good. I’ve got an extra parking space in the driveway. Let me just finish up here first.”

  He squats down and slides underneath the sink. I glance over toward the window.

  Shit. My bra is still hanging on the rack. I walk over and grab it, shoving it behind the stacked towel set that’s sitting behind the toilet.

  “Can you hand me a wrench?” he asks.

  I find it in his toolbox and hand it to him. And, even though I should probably leave and let him work, I don’t want to. So I take a seat on the edge of the tub and admire his flexing abs as he fiddles with the plumbing.

  “Where did you come from just now?” he asks me. “Your mama and I walked right through your room, and no one was in there.”

  “I was dressing in the closet,” I say.

  Hunter accepts my explanation, and we lapse into silence for the next ten minutes.

  “All set.” He slides out from underneath the sink and stands up.

  His arm muscles flex as he pulls on the same blue t-shirt he’s had since high school.

  I stand, too, and his eyes catch mine. I fidget under the heat of his stare.

  He looks down at my sweatshirt and then back up to my face.

  “What the hell are you wearing?”

  “What’s it look like? Cut-offs, a hot pink bikini top, which I’m sure you noticed…”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Your sweatshirt is see-through.”

  “It’s not see-through. It’s a pale gray, so the pink shines through the…oh, never mind. It’s just some guy’s sweatshirt.” I shrug. “My clothes got packed in a hurry, and I don’t have my shit organized yet.”