Page 2 of These Pucking Boys

I grab my purse and head for the door but stop when my phone rings. It’s Bill. “Hey, babe.”

“Are you home yet?” he asks in a curt tone. He must be stressed about something at the office.

“No. I’m about to leave work. Why?”

“Can you pick up my dry cleaning? I need my lucky suit for tomorrow.”

Shit. “I don’t know if I have time. I’m already running late.”

“June, come on. You know I won’t get off work for another hour. And it was already a big deal for me to leave an hour early. I’m a lawyer. I don’t have your easy, breezy work hours.”

I sigh. “All right. I’ll stop by the dry cleaner.”

“Thanks, babe. You’re the best.”

“I love you,” I say, but he’s already ended the call.

Katrina is watching me with a stern expression. “Did you seriously agree to run an errand for your lazy boyfriend when you’re already late?”

“It’s Bill’s lucky suit—he needs it for court tomorrow. It’s an important case.”

She rolls her eyes. “If he expects you to propose, then you should expect him to pick up his own dry cleaning.”

“I don’t mind,” I lie. Idomind, but I don’t want anything to go wrong tonight. If I told Bill I couldn’t pick up his dry cleaning, he’d be in a foul mood at the game. I don’t want to propose to him when he’s aggravated over something minor. “I’d better go.”

“Good luck tonight. I’ll tune in to the game to watch your proposal.”

Her comment makes me queasy. I knew all along that the game would be on TV, but I’ve been trying to ignore that detail. I’m more nervous than ever as I rush out of the classroom, hoping traffic won’t be too terrible.

It’s LA, June. Not even all the mighty gods combined could fix the damn traffic in this town.

CHAPTER 2

JAKE

Ihear Mrs. Carpenter’s voice in the living room and rush out of my bedroom, hoping I can prevent her from spilling the beans to whoever answered the door. I made her a promise that I’d rather my roommates not find out about it.

She’s talking to Lachlan, and the are-you-fucking-insane look he gives me tells me I’m too late. I’ll never hear the end of it.

“Hi, Jake.” Mrs. Carpenter waves at me. “I just stopped by to give you the list I promised.”

“You could have emailed me, Mrs. Carpenter.” I walk over and take the long-ass list from her while ignoring Lachlan’s glower, which is burning a hole through my face.

I glance at the list and notice that she has tasks assigned to each of her pets. Mrs. Carpenter keeps a menagerie in her apartment one floor down from ours.

“You know I hate using that darn computer my grandson gave me.”

Lachlan leans closer to peer at my list.

I pull it away. “Do you mind?”

He shakes his blond head before heading over to our open-concept kitchen. Lachlan would never say what’s on his mind while Mrs. Carpenter is here. He’s a grump, but he’s also the best-mannered hockey player I know—outside the rink, that is. During a game, he’ll curse like a sailor and get into fights like the rest of us.

“I can’t thank you enough, Jake. I know how busy you’ll be during hockey season, but knowing you’ll be watching my beloved pets is a relief. I had half a mind to cancel my trip.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Carpenter. But your grandson will stop by when we’re on the road, correct?”

“Yes. I got the little bugger to commit to it. But on the back of the list, I also wrote down the names of pet sitters I’ve used in the past, in case something happens.”

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