Page 189 of The Pucking Wrong Man

The community kitchen was already bustling with activity as we walked in. The other volunteers greeted Camden, all of them casting me furtive looks, probably wondering where they recognized me from. Now that I was getting three meals a day, I’d filled out, not looking as bedraggled and desperate as I had when I’d come here weekly for food.

Freddie recognized me, though. “Ms. Anastasia!” he cooed, coming over to give me a hug before Camden let out a low growl that stopped him in his tracks.

Freddie’s answering grin was hilarious as he raised his eyebrows up and down. “You got your girl after all, Mr. Hockey Star. Not sure what she sees in you, but I’ll allow it.”

I giggled at Camden when he scoffed. “We have to get to work, old man. Let us pass.”

Freddie gasped dramatically, and I knew I’d spent too much time around Ari Lancaster, because it totally reminded me of him.

“Get to work then, both of you. Just try not to get jealous that I’ve got the turkey sub station today, Anastasia.”

I laughed. “Deal.” I was still grinning as Camden and I walked to our station.

“Love that smile on you, baby girl,” he murmured, sliding my hair off my shoulder so he could press a kiss to my neck. “Even if it was because of another man. Let’s just not make that a habit.”

“Yes, sir,” I purred, rolling my eyes at his possessiveness. My husband’s eyes glittered dangerously.

Husband. I was never going to get over that word.

I breathed in the familiar scent, memories flooding back. This place had been a lifeline for me, that was for sure.

“Ready?” Camden asked, squeezing my hand gently.

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

We donned our aprons and got to work. Camden and I were assigned to the stew station. He served while I handed out bread and fruits and tried not to cry because my heart was so full the entire time we worked.

I recognized some of the regulars that had eaten here each week with me. They looked past me, probably not even thinking of the possibility that I could have been one of them not that long ago.

But I remembered them, the struggle etched into their faces was a reflection of my past. It was overwhelming. I wanted to help more, as much as I could.

“Mr. James!” a young boy said as he bounced toward us wearing one of Camden’s jerseys. His exhausted-looking mother trailed behind him, a small smile on her lips as she watched her son’s excitement.

“Hey buddy,” Camden smiled. “How were those seats the other night?”

Oh, this must be Sean! Camden had told me about him. He’d given him playoff tickets.

“It was the best night everrrrr,” Sean practically roared. Everyone around him turned, smiling at the happy little kid.

“Good to hear,” Camden laughed. “Have I replaced Lincoln as your favorite player yet?”

Sean looked torn, biting on his lip. “Well, maybeee. But that last goal was really, really good.”

Camden winked at him. “I get it. One of these days I’ll win you over.”

Sean gave him a high five and then headed to the next station where there were cookies waiting for him.

“Thank you,” his mom said softly, accepting bowls for the both of them. “It really makes his day seeing you.”

“Of course,” Camden said easily.

She smiled a soft, sad smile at the two of us and moved to the next station.

My heart felt like it was going to break just watching her walk away. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back.

The hours passed quickly. Camden and I worked side by side, our movements in sync, like the perfect little team. And when the day was finished, and we’d stepped outside, the cool air a welcome relief after the heat of the kitchen, I’d somehow fallen even more in love with him.

“I want you,” Camden breathed as we stepped into the elevator to get up to our home. “You’re so fucking sweet. So fucking good. I’m desperate to fuck you.”

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