Page 3 of One Pucking Wish

That means something bad has happened. My blood begins to boil as angry tears fill my eyes. I just wanted one night to wallow in my heartache. Maybe eat a pint of ice cream and watch some Friends. But no… I have to go deal with grown-ass men who act like high schoolers.

It’s Gunner. Isn’t it?

Don’t rush. It’s not an emergency. Drive safe. Just please come.

Gunner Dreven, the Cranes huge goalie, is a constant thorn in my side. Iris’s lack of response tells me exactly what I need to know. He went off and did something foolish. Every time there is a problem, it’s him… or at least fifty percent of the time.

Gunner, who the team refers to as Dreven or the Beast due to his massive size, is an asshole—plain and simple. I don’t hate a lot of people. But I hate this guy.

Actually, maybe I do hate a lot of people.

Tonight alone, Target models and giant goalies are on my shit list.

It’s just not a good night for me.

I’ll be there soon.

I reply to Iris. Leaning my head back, I groan as it falls between my shoulders.

My red hair hangs loose in crazy wavy locks that fall over my shoulders, and I have on a pair of baggy sweats and a T-shirt. None of which will do. When I first got this job, I found dealing with grumpy hockey players easier when I put on my power suit. Now, I won’t go to work without my hair pulled back into a tight twist and a pant or skirt suit of some sort. Presenting myself this way makes me feel powerful, and when dealing with Gunner Dreven, that is a must. That man would eat me whole if I let him.

CHAPTER

TWO

GUNNER

Beckett, our team forward, called me to this bar, and now he’s making me wait in the foyer. He gave some reason, but he was talking so fast I didn’t even try to comprehend everything he said. I love the guy, but he’s too much sometimes.

I can’t say I’m pleased to be standing here. It’s pissing me off if I’m honest. I had a perfectly respectable night of chilling at home planned. Which, with the intense season we’ve been having, is needed so I don’t lose my ever-loving mind.

Not to mention, we’re just coming off our bye week, which is always miserable. The entire team spent a week in Texas drinking, hanging out, and playing cards. It was a good time, as all bye weeks are, but getting back into the routine afterward is exhausting. My body needs as much downtime as I can get so it can perform the way I need it to.

I’ll be thirty-three next week, which in my profession is pushing retirement age. I have no plans to retire anytime soon. As long as I take care of myself, I feel like that’s a reasonable expectation. Yet standing out here in this drafty foyer with gusts of Michigan’s winter winds streaming in below the entry door is making me both cold and cranky and isn’t helping anyone.

Screw Beckett. Since when did I start listening to him?

I take a step toward the entrance to the bar when the exterior door swings open.

Penelope Stellars, the constant pain in my ass, rushes inside. Her eyes narrow when she sees me. “What did you do now, Dreven?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I furrow my brows.

“What did you do?” she repeats with a huff.

Closing my eyes, I pull in a breath through my nose to calm my building rage. Blowing up on this broad won’t help anyone. I’ve learned that lesson. “Listen, Princess…”

“Don’t call me that!” she protests, her voice a spine-chilling shriek. “It sounds like a dog’s name, and I’m no poodle. You’ll address me as Penelope or Penny. Actually, you should probably call me Ms. Stellars.”

I force out a laugh. “Yeah, Penny, I won’t be calling you Ms. Anything.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever, as long as you drop the stupid nickname, we’re good. Now, what did you do?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?” The question comes out with a bit of a roar, and I don’t miss the way Penny flinches.

She stands tall or attempts to. The woman is a foot shorter than my six-foot-five frame, but she can puff out her chest any day of the week. While, personally, I can’t stand the woman, I can’t deny that she has a nice rack. She has a nice body, period. Admittedly, I’ve dreamed of grabbing that ass of hers while she rode my cock. I’m not proud of that. I would’ve rather it had been about another woman, but my subconscious does what it wants.

While I may find her body attractive, nothing about her uptight, snooty personality turns me on. In fact, it does the opposite. She has such a stick up her ass, I don’t know how she gets around. She’s showing up at a bar wearing a tight black pencil skirt with a blazer. There’s a hint of a blue flowy blouse under the blazer, but one wouldn’t know with how she has that jacket buttoned up like a straitjacket. Her hair is pulled so tightly in some sort of twist on the back of her head that I’m sure it’s giving her a headache. Who shows up to a casual bar dressed like she’s ready for a press conference? She’s obnoxious.

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