Page 24 of One Pucking Wish

I yelp when Gunner grabs my waist from behind, flips me around, and throws me over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” I yell. “Put me down.”

“And watch you struggle to walk in that ridiculous outfit? No.”

Ass toward the sky, I stay strung over Gunner’s shoulder as we move toward the motel’s office. A bell chimes when he pushes the glass door open. He sets me down on the worn red carpet.

“You two surviving?” a familiar voice asks.

I turn to see Frank and Alice. “We’re trying,” I say. “Good morning. The bars not open today?”

Frank chuckles. “I couldn’t make it there if I tried. Roads aren’t fit for driving just yet, especially not out this way.”

I’m very aware of Gunner’s presence behind me. He doesn’t say anything, though, and lets me do the talking. “So there probably aren’t any restaurants open nearby?”

“No, there are not,” Alice says.

“Vending machines?” I say with hope in my voice.

“That was picked dry yesterday.” Frank looks back and forth between Gunner and me.

I look back at Gunner with a frown. It’s one thing to be stranded, but starving is another.

Alice waves us forward. “Don’t you fret, sweetie. We won’t let you go hungry. Follow me.”

“You have a kitchen here?” I ask as Gunner and I follow her around the check-in counter and through the door behind it.

“Yeah, in our home,” she says with a laugh.

It never dawned on me that they live here, but I guess it should have. Sure enough, beyond the office is an entire living space. We follow Alice through the living room and closed doors, which I assume lead to the bedrooms. A round of screams comes from one of the rooms, and I look at the closed door, startled.

“Don’t mind them.” Alice waves her hand. “Boys and their video games. It can get pretty intense. Our three have joined forces to fight,” she calls over her shoulder, “what is it, honey?”

Frank answers. “Aliens. They’re battling aliens. It’s a new multiplayer game they got for Christmas, and they’ve been obsessed with it since. So much so they get up early on a snow day just to play. I know we shouldn’t let them play video games for hours, but to be honest, it’s something they can all do together.”

“And get along while doing it!” Alice adds. “We asked them to play a game of Scrabble yesterday, but they weren’t having any of that.” She opens the refrigerator and starts pulling out ingredients. “How does pancakes, bacon, and eggs sound? I’m guessing the only thing you ate yesterday were those donuts?”

Gunner speaks up. “That all sounds great. Thank you.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Alice eyes me up and down. “You’ve been in that outfit and those heels for three days. We’d be happy to give you some more comfortable clothes.”

I shake my head. “That’s not necessary. I’m fine, really.”

Alice is half my size, and Frank is an average-sized man. Unlike Frank, I have hips and curves. There’s no way I’d fit in either of their clothes, and it would just be embarrassing to inform them of that. I carry my weight well and know what clothing items flatter my figure, so much so that I think people think I’m smaller than I am.

Back in college, I was talking to this boy who worked for a popular clothing store. To be nice, he used his discount to buy me a dress—a very non-stretchy dress in a size six. I was a size twelve, then. When I told him the dress was too small, he looked at me confused and asked if I was serious. He literally couldn’t believe the dress didn’t fit. What I didn’t tell him was that it was multiple sizes too small. I thanked him for the gesture but had him take it back. I still think about that embarrassment and avoid any situations that would put me in that place again. Maybe it’s part of the reason I don’t have any close girlfriends and never take Iris up on her offer to go shopping. The last thing I want to have to say is, “Sorry, this store doesn’t carry my size,” because most boutiques don’t carry a size eighteen. Most days, my size doesn’t faze me because I know I look good. Trying on clothes that might be too small is, however, a fear that I don’t want to face.

“You should change. You were just saying how uncomfortable you are,” Gunner murmurs—his words only intended for me.

“I’m fine!” I snap, a little too aggressively. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to change. Okay?”

He raises his hand in mock surrender and steps away from me.

Alice busies herself in the kitchen while Gunner, Frank, and I sit at the bar top that looks into the kitchen. “So I hear that you two are stuck here because Mr. Hockey Player punched someone,” she questions with a chuckle.

Gunner quirks a brow and turns to Frank. “Isn’t there some sort of bartender-client confidentiality you’re supposed to abide by?”

Alice cuts in before Frank can answer. “Oh, sweetie. This guy tells me everything. Every. Little. Thing. Honestly, it’s one of the perks of owning a bar—the best stories. The two of us never run out of things, or should I say people, to talk about.”

Frank holds out his hand toward his wife, palm up. “Let me reintroduce you to my wife, the town gossip.” He grins.

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