Page 17 of One Pucking Wish

“What do you think it means?” He stares down at me, his facial features unmoving.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I feel a mixture of annoyance and something else that I can’t quite put my finger on. “This is the worst day ever.” I sigh.

“It’s really that bad?” Gunner quirks a brow, and I want to slap it right off him. I feel his judgment radiating from him.

“Of course it is!” I thread my fingers through my hair and release a pent-up groan. “This has been the worst day. I shouldn’t be here. In fact, I’m sick of this stupid job. I’m the public relations manager for one of the best hockey teams in the nation, yet my entire job consists of babysitting you! A grown man who can’t keep his hands to himself! And now, we’re stuck here in this shithole for God knows how long with nothing but the items in my purse. My only choice is to sleep half-naked with a man I despise or on the floor atop carpet that probably has enough germs to start a plague. My birthday is tomorrow, and all I wanted to do was spend it at home, comfortable, in my own bed watching Friends!” An errant tear streams down my face, and I swipe the back of my hand across my cheek.

He narrows his gaze. “Don’t forget that we share a birthday, Princess, and not that I care—it’s just another day to me—but I would also rather be anywhere other than here.”

“Well, you have no one to blame but yourself for that one,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

He reaches out and pulls on the end of a lock of my hair, the movement oddly personal, especially coming from him. “You should wear your hair down more.”

“You should keep your opinions to yourself.” I glare up at him.

“You don’t need to wear all that makeup either.”

I take a step back, my eyes bulging. “And you don’t need to tell me what to do. What’s going on here? On a normal day, you communicate in grunts and scowls, and now you’re giving me advice on my appearance?”

He shakes his head, frowning. “You know, you don’t always have to be a bitch.”

My mouth falls open. “Yes, I do! Because you’re always an ass!”

Turning away from me, he gets into bed. “Get the light.”

My arms cross, and I take my defensive stance, ready to fight. Gunner and I have been in more than enough verbal sparring matches. Only after his order about the light, he says nothing else. His back is turned to me, and I have to question the insane desire within me to keep our argument going. He’s retreated and moved on, yet here I stand, ready for another round.

Maybe I am the problem?

No, it’s definitely him.

I wait for a few beats, weighing my options, and I come up short. There really is only one option.

Ugh.

After I switch off the light, I climb into bed, facing away from Gunner. I’m very aware of his back against mine, but I do everything in my power to ignore it. The room is silent save for our breaths and the violent screeches of the wind outside. This is quite a storm. I guess, being in any bed, even one with Gunner, is better than being out there.

We lay in silence for what seems like forever. Despite the exhaustion that covers me, I can’t sleep. I need to turn to my other side, but facing him isn’t an option.

I have a pinched disc in my lower back from falling an entire story and landing on the corner of hard wooden steps on my tailbone. I was eight years old when I had been leaning against the railing in the attic when it broke, causing me to fall onto the steps below. It was so painful at the time. I remember lying in bed for weeks because it hurt too much to move. I eventually healed, but I couldn’t run for almost a year. Now, it really doesn’t bother me unless I’m lifting a lot of heavy items or sleeping in the same position for too long. At home, I wake up multiple times a night to switch positions, which is not something I can do here. The two of us take up an entire bed. Not only do I have to share a bed with my enemy but it has to be a double at that. A king-sized bed would’ve been too much to ask for on this day of hell.

“Happy birthday,” Gunner whispers, and it startles me. I thought he was asleep.

Giving in, I turn to face him, and the stretch of my lower back gives me a sigh of relief. “What?” I say quietly.

Gunner turns to face me. There’s just enough ambient lighting in the dark space for me to make out his features. “It’s midnight here, so happy birthday. I mean, it was our birthday three hours ago in Michigan but just now, here.”

“You’re so strange here,” I say in response.

He looks at me in question.

“I’m just saying, you’re different. Nicer, even.”

He releases a breath. “I just don’t think constantly fighting when we’re stuck here together is the best course of action.”

“It does make our situation that much more miserable.”

“Exactly.”

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