Page 117 of Puck Princess

No matter what life throws at me, I’m content and unbothered. Because I have him.

Thankfully, Owen seems to be living in the same cloud.

I know Spencer is probably making his life on the ice a living hell. Afterall, our engagement isn’t a secret. Yet, Owen seems to have found a new focus in the game. He is working with the team better than ever and comes home energized.

He wakes up energized, too.

I’m stretched across our bed, naked in a pool of warm morning sun. Owen kisses me on the cheek and the sweet touch is in stark contrast to where that mouth was only a few minutes ago. My body is still pulsing from the release.

“Coffee?” he asks.

I smile sleepily. “And pancakes.”

Owen kisses me again. “Yes, ma’am.”

I watch his toned ass stroll naked out of our bedroom, fighting the urge to call him back.

But I force myself out of bed. I get up and stretch, doing a quick sun salutation yoga routine as Owen gets breakfast started. I’m constantly reminding the players to stretch.Prevention is the cure.So I’m not sure why I waited until my joints were swollen and achy from pregnancy before I started up a yoga practice.Because you’re stubborn, Owen said when I mentioned it last week. He isn’t wrong, though I vehemently denied it.

Once I’m finished, I make my way to the kitchen just in time to receive a plate of two pancakes. “Powdered sugar and strawberries? Well, look at you.”

“I know how to satisfy my woman, both in the bedroom and the kitchen.” He winks and slides my steaming mug of coffee across the countertop. But right before I can take a bite, the front door flies open.

Summer barges in with Nicky on her hip and urgency on her face. “You’ll never believe what Miles did,” she blurts out. The pancake Owen was flipping flops to the floor. “Ooh, pancakes. Those smell good. Have any extras?”

“What did Miles do?” Owen asks.

He’s so focused on Summer that it takes Summer turning away, her eyes cast at the ceiling, for Owen to remember that he is butt ass naked except for an apron. Thank God for the “Proud Hockey Grandma” apron Dax bought Owen as a housewarming gift.

Owen walks backwards down the hall to find some pants, and Summer looks at me. All I’m wearing is an oversized Post Malone t-shirt. I tug the hem down to cover my thighs.

“I need to start knocking,” she mutters to herself under her breath before she carries on. “So my lawyer called me this morning. Apparently, Miles’s lawyer reached out, and they’ve decided to handle the case out of court.”

“Like, it’s over?” I ask.

“And why would he do that?” Owen reappears, still in the process of yanking sweat pants on.

“I guess he saw the evidence stacking up against him and realized it would be best to bite the bullet and hand the case to us.”

“Your testimonies were probably enough.” Owen stands behind me, a hand on my shoulder. I can’t stop myself from leaning into him.

“That’s the other thing.” Summer grins. “Apparently, the two of us coming forward triggered a flood of other women to come forward with their own allegations against Miles.”

“You’re kidding,” Owen gapes.

“Nope. Sounds like we opened his rancid can of worms. Hashtag MeToo, right?”

“I guess that’s one less thing to worry about.” Owen heads back to the stove. “Do you want breakfast, Summer?”

“Two, please.” She plucks a strawberry from the strainer next to the sink. “This is the one time when I’m happy a man wants to ghost me.”

I sweep Nicky out of her arms and press a kiss to his chubby cheek. “Dating not going well?”

“I wouldn’t know. I can’t get more than a few messages before the fish disappear back into the sea.”

“That’s just crazy. Any man would be more than lucky to have you.”

“Based on my recent track record, I think my ManPicker is broken.”

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