Page 53 of Puck Shy

I place my hands on my hips. “And why is that?”

In the blink of an eye, he pulls me by my hips and presses our bodies together so I can feel every masculine inch of him. “Because I needed to come and confess my love for a certain smart, beautiful, cherry-lipped girl with questionable taste in music.”

I stare at him, my eyes wide. Did he just say love? “I don’t have questionable taste in music,” I say instead, unable to comprehend his words.

He gives me a look that says For real, Stevie? but chuckles instead. “You listen to Fall Out Boy.”

“Their music is catchy. Plus, you listen to Styx. What are you, seventy?”

He pulls me impossibly closer to him and presses his forehead against mine to breathe me in for a second.

“Do you really love me?” I ask.

He pulls back enough so he can search my eyes. “Does that scare you?”

Butterflies fill my stomach, and I nod. “A little. But only because I think I love you, too.”

“You think?”

“Isn’t it too soon?”

He takes my chin in his fingers and smiles. “Who the fuck cares?”

I let out a laugh and hug him to me, feeling his arms wrap around me in a cocoon of warmth. A little bit of water from his hair drops onto my cheek, and I shiver, holding him tighter. A few months ago, I didn’t think I’d end up here, but after everything, I can’t think of a place I’d rather be. Well, maybe at one of the club’s parties with him…but this is nice, too. More than nice.

“You played a great game,” I say.

“You watched?” he asks into my hair, his voice hopeful.

I pull back and brush my hand against his cheek. “Not from the arena. I watched with Riley in her hotel room. When you went into overtime, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I listened on the radio all the way here, and then I waited in my car for the game to be over. Then I ran in the back right after you scored the goal. Now here I am.”

He stares thoughtfully at me for a long while but doesn’t speak.

“Are you mad?” I ask.

“Of course not, baby. I’m glad you came.”

“Hmm. Well, you proved that I’m not good luck. That you guys don’t need me to win.”

He runs his hand through my hair, his wintery eyes smiling as he stares at me. “You are, though.”

I frown, scrunching up my eyebrows. “Really?”

He puts his hand over the one I have on his cheek. “I realized today that you’re not my good luck or the team’s good luck because you come to our games. It’s because you’re you, Stevie. You make me happy. You make the guys on the team happy with your silly jokes and pep talks. No matter if you’re in the stands or in your car or even if you were in another country, you make them better. But more importantly, you make me better. And that’s only one of the reasons I love you.”

I grab his hand on my cheek and bring it to my lips, kissing his fingers. “I could have told you that,” I tease, causing him to chuckle. “But you did everything yourself, Lucas. You and the team work together as a unit, and you win games because you’re good. You men are just stupid sometimes, especially with your superstitions.”

He shakes his head and exhales a long breath. “Then thank you for indulging me so I could figure it out. I just wanted to be sure we’re going to be together for the right reasons. Though we didn’t last a week like I planned.” He smirks.

“We do things on our own time. I think it’s a trait both our families have,” I tease. Before he can respond, I press a hard kiss on his lips then pull back. “But you were right. I needed the space. Riley helped me see what you meant.”

“Remind me to get her a big Christmas present this year,” he teases.

“For serious, though. I know what I implied when I said I wanted it all. And when you asked what I meant, I tried to deflect and not say what ‘all’ of it is.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

I stop him. “But it’s not okay. For us to do this right, to go all in, I need to say what I want. Just like you need to say what you want.”

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