Page 141 of Puck Prince

I smile and nod. “I think I could talk to Owen about it?—”

“And Kennedy,” he adds.

“...and Kennedy. Right.”

The wide smile that splits his face makes it impossible for me to tell Lance that madness lies that way. “Cool! You’re the best. You rally the others, and I’ll take care of everything else. Thanks, Cal.”

With that, he walks out. I’m so headspun over whatever just happened that I can’t even think about Miles right now.

All of my brain power needs to be reserved for convincing Kennedy to go on this date and not break this poor man’s heart. Or femur.

40

CALLIE

“Absolutely not.” Kennedy shakes her head, and I don’t know why I expected anything different. “Pick literally anyone else on the team, and I am all for a double date. But Lance? Not a chance in hell.”

It’s Sunday morning, and I invited Kennedy out for coffee.

Really, it’s almost noon. Kennedy doesn’t do mornings.

And really, she’s drinking a Bloody Mary. Kennedy doesn’t do coffee when there’s alcohol on the brunch menu.

I’m sipping peppermint tea, but I’m going to need something a lot stronger to get through this sales pitch.

“Come on, Kenny,” I plead. “The guys think it’s a great idea. It sounds kind of fun!”

“Owen is sweet. And hot. But that boy has hit his head on the ice too many times if he thinks me and Sir Lancelot are a good idea.” She picks the salad of veggies out of her glass and sets them aside before taking a sip. Watching her guzzle down spiked spicy V8 makes my stomach roll.

I take another sip of tea and pray I don’t get sick.

“And as far as Lance is concerned, of course he thinks it’s a great idea. This hell fest was his idea, no doubt.”

“What is it with you and Lance anyway? He’s really nice.”

She wags a finger at me. “No. No, no. He smiles a lot. It’s a trick.”

“Smiling is a trick?” I arch a brow.

“He wants you to think he’s friendly and approachable and a generous lover, but you can’t buy into it, Cal. That smile disguises what I’m sure is a two pump chump who doesn’t know how to use his stick unless he’s on the ice.”

“You do realize this is a double date, not an orgy? Just show up and make polite conversation. No…pumpingnecessary.”

The older couple at the table next to us look scandalized, and I’m with them. This conversation feels violating.

My phone buzzes, yet another text from Lance lighting up the screen.

Does Kennedy have any allergies?

Poor, misguided man.

“Kennedy,” I groan. “Please. I have to give them an answer. Will you go with us or not?”

She lets out a persecuted sigh. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Holy water, I text Lance before I fire off a second text to Owen.We’re on.

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