Page 9 of Heartless Pucker in Love

“Thank you.”

Faye rounded the corner, drying her hands on an apron. “April, you made it.” Her eyes darted to Andy. “Glad this one didn’t scare you off.”

“Hey.” Andy pouted. “I’m very lovable, right Miss April?”

“Extremely,” I agreed.

Faye rolled her eyes and sighed as if she could just imagine the conversation between Andy and me before she arrived. “Thanks for coming, April. When the agency told me you were up for the job, I was relieved.”

My heart sank as I took in Julian’s mother. She was a statuesque woman with gray hair and deep blue eyes. Standing near her made me feel small at five feet three inches. “You were?” Great, now it would be harder for me to back out of the job.

“Sure. Julian hated the idea of anyone coming to look after him,” she sighed. “He’s a stickler for privacy nowadays.”

My brows are elevated. I saw his face on so many gossip sites, it was ridiculous. How much could he really value privacy?

“I figured he’d feel more comfortable with someone he knows.” Faye grinned and gestured for me to follow her.

“Right,” I murmured as I reluctantly followed. The house was nice. The interior screamed money. It made sense that Julian had splurged on his mother’s house. Probably the only redeeming quality about him was how much he adored his mother. A man who treated his mother like a queen couldn’t be all that bad. Perhaps I could work with him for a few days.

6

JULIAN

Hobbling down the stairs with my phone held to my ear, I listened to my manager’s rant. I just got done listening to my coach’s lecture. I felt like an errant child who constantly messed up rather than a grown man who was in charge of his own life. I couldn’t even get into an accident in peace without getting an earful after. What were you thinking? You have a lot of people counting on you. You couldn’t have waited until the end of the season to go joyriding? That was what I’d been getting all morning. What I wanted was for everyone to just shut up and let me recover in peace.

“Jesus, Monica, what are you? My manager or my mother? Spare me the lecture, will you?”

“You know better than to be a smart ass with me.”

My mouth snapped shut. My manager was a fifty-two-year-old mother of three originally from Louisiana. She could get downright scary. That’s a major part of why I was able to break into so many areas outside of hockey. The woman was a shark of a manager. I sighed. “Alright, don’t bite my head off. Look, I’ll be fine. Despite my injuries, I can still go to the functions and photoshoots you have booked for me.”

“You need to rest. Heal. Forget the damn photoshoots.”

“No way.”

“Julian,” she sighed. “My oldest is about your age. You know you’re more than just my ten percent profit of the shitload of money you make, right?”

I smiled. “Yeah, I know. You wouldn’t have invited me to your house all the time to fatten me up with Cajun catfish and grits if you didn’t truly care.”

“Shut up.” She chuckled. “Seriously, I’m going to make the calls to cancel everything. You’ve only got months before the season starts so sit your ass down until you’re healed.”

“Absolutely not. We worked hard to get that Adidas deal. I’m not canceling.” I winced when I stepped too hard off of the last step, but I tried my best to hold in the pain, not wanting Monica to worry. I rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped in my tracks. April sat around the kitchen island holding a mug. She was about to take a sip from it, but she froze when she saw me. Our eyes collided. “Uh… Monica, sweetheart, let me call you back.

“Boy, what did I tell you about calling me sweetheart?” she growled before abruptly hanging up.

I had to swallow a chuckle. Confession: I called her that just to piss her off so I could get the pleasure of hearing her slip into that New Orleans drawl. My gaze shifted from April to Mom, who was blissfully unaware of the tension seeping into the room.

“Julian, honey,” she said, greeting me with a bright smile. “I’m making you breakfast.”

I closed my eyes briefly. Faye still hadn’t gotten the memo that I was no longer eight years old. “Thanks.”

“Look who stopped by?” she said.

“Just stopped by?” I gave April a once over. She wore light blue scrubs. My lips twitched. The top was decorated with butterflies. She looked like she was ready to do a shift on a pediatric ward rather than nurse a grown man. Same colorful April. I didn’t hate it. I never did.

“Well, she’s going to be nursing you back to health, aren’t you April?”

“I’m just here to?” April said at the same time that I said, “I’m fine.”

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