Page 50 of Puck Prince

“Explore, Summer. There are literally hundreds of activities you can do with Nicky. Join some Facebook pages for single moms, I don’t know. But this is the world’s worst time for me to have a woman and a baby hanging around my place. No offense.”

I go back inside, locking the door and pulling the blinds. Blood-sucking journalists are going to starve if I have any say in it. It’s one thing for them to be up my ass when I walk from the arena to my car. It’s another to be snapping shots of me in my home.

“Offense taken.” Her tone is dry. “But fine. I get it. You’re a big shot with a rep, and I’m smearing that rep.”

“Summer, I am trying to keep you safe. If people get the wrong idea, it would hurt you and Nicky, as well. And I’m not about to let that happen. Cash the money and let me know when you find a place. I’ll help you with anything you need.”

“Alright,” she sighs. “Love you, O.”

“Love you, too.”

We hang up, and I grab my gear, heading out the door. The elevator is finally fixed—thank God, because my quads are wrecked to oblivion from practice—and I make my way down.

While I haven’t dared to look, I’ve got a decent idea what’s buzzing in the news. Photos and videos of my date with Callie have already gone out-of-control viral, though we didn’t make it entirely clear who she is. So that, of course, is the question of the hour.

And it’s the reason that I expect the swarm of reporters that attack me the moment I walk through the double doors of my apartment building.

I need some paparazzi repellent.

Then again, if Callie and I play this right, that’s exactly what our relationship will be.

I slide my shades on and forge my way through the masses. They snap photos, call my name, shuffle in front of me, basically do everything short of reaching out and grabbing me (they know better) as I wade to my car.

My vocabulary has dwindled to a stiff series of, “No comment. No comment. No comment.”

Once I’m inside, I drive. Slow enough not to run over anyone and fast enough that they better get the hell out of Dodge unless they want plastic surgery or the permanent impression of a tire tread on their ass.

When I pull up to the arena, I park my BMW in my designated spot. From the looks of it, Callie’s already here. I take a deep breath and put on a game face. As grumpy as all of this has me right now, I need to look happy. I’m supposed to be in love.

The audacity of that actually makes me laugh. I guess that’s as good a start as any.

The shades stay on until I’m inside the arena. I can slap on a smile, but eyes are the windows to the soul, and there’s no telling what my soul looks like right now.

I hear the guys in the locker room as I come down the hall, fucking around as usual.

“All I’m saying is that pictures are misleading,” Lance chirps.

“His hand was under the table!” Dax argues, amusement in his tone.

“That doesn’t equal a relationship! Maybe he was just boozy and a little handsy. Whomst among us hasn’t ventured down that road?”

“Right. But he also kissed her,” Heath adds. “Not a drunk kiss. It was a Nicholas Sparks kiss if I’ve ever seen one. Have you all seenThe Notebook?”

The guys erupt in mocking laughs. “Listen to Romeo over here,” one of them jabs. “What do you know about Nicholas Sparks?”

“I know Gosling got all the girls with that role. Watch the movie and maybe you’ll actually be able to get past first base for once in your virgin-ass life.”

“They were also holding hands,” Miles adds in. “That’s not something you do when you just wanna fuck.”

“You would know, Susie Homemaker!” Dax teases. “You put a down payment on that three-bed, two-and-a-half bath McMansion yet?”

“Don’t forget the picket fence! And a minivan,” someone else throws in and everyone roars.

I swear to God I work with morons.

“Listen,” Lance goes on, “Owen is my best friend. If he were dating someone, I would know. Especially if it was Coach’s niece. And he hasn’t so much as hinted at being interested in her. Hell, they don’t even really seem to like each other.”

“So why would he be at the bar with her?” Heath questions.

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