Page 3 of Pucking Obsessed

She pulls away, grinning like we’re old friends. “We’re going to be sisters!” she exclaims, her voice high-pitched and chipper. It feels like a slap to the face, and I freeze because what in theactual fuck is going on? “I’m Kirsten,” she adds, bouncing on her heels like this is some kind of party and she’s the guest of honor. “I don’t think we formally met at the vigil for our parents. Ignore Hayden. My brother’s rude and that’s probably never going to change.”

Ourparents? Hayden and Kirsten Lockwood. It’s all starting to make sense.

I don’t know what to do, so I glance over at Hayden, my eyes searching for some kind of explanation. He’s not giving me anything. He’s just standing there, brooding, eyes locked on the truck drivers I just served who are staring right back at him.

One of the drivers laughs, his voice thick like he’s been drinking something alcoholic. “You got a problem, little buddy?”

Hayden’s grin is sharp, but there’s no humor in it. He has such a pretty face, but he’s also got this dark edge to him. Even if I didn’t witness it the other night, I can tell he’s the kind of guy who’s ready to throw hands at any moment. “You’re going to have a problem if you don’t stop looking at her.”

I can’t help but huff in annoyance. This is exactly what I don’t need, especially not at work. Before I can say anything, tall, miffed and handsome steps closer, fists clenched, looking like he’s about to snap. I rush forward, placing my hands on his chest to push him back. “What are you doing? You’re going to get me fired,” I hiss, feeling my heart race at the closeness.

He looks down at my hands on his chest, his gaze softening just a little. “That’s the plan, if you don’t willingly quit.”

I blink up at him. “Quit? What are you even doing here? I mean, how did you know I work here? Are you insane?”

Kirsten, as if she has no idea that this is completely bizarre, skips over to the table, grabbing a handful of fries from the truck driver’s plate and munching on them like she’s at a carnival. “Not until he met you, apparently,” she says with a grin, eyeing her brother as she talks. “Hayden doesn’t care about anything.Not even hockey. He just does it because he’s good at it. But he’s beaten up like six guys for you?—”

Hayden grabs his sister by the wrist and yanks her away from the table, giving her a death glare that makes my stomach flip. Kirsten laughs like it’s no big deal which tells me that this simmering rage is Hayden’s baseline.

“That’s why you were here all week? Stopping men from approaching me?” I murmur, not really expecting an answer. It makes sense though. I didn’t have one guy so much as heckle me on my walk home in the last few days.

As I shoo them away from the truckers and over to the front counter, Kirsten is kind enough to provide more information despite the fact that Hayden is looking at her like he wants to use a butter knife to slowly remove her head from her body. “He’s whipped,” she says, so casually, as if her brother getting into fights for someone he just met is perfectly normal. “Anyway, you should just come with us. He’s just going to tear shit up if you don’t.”

I glance back at Hayden, confusion still clawing at me. “Have you been following me home?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. I already know the answer, but I need to hear him say it.

He steps closer, his hands finding my face with the same possessive grip he had on me the night of the vigil. “I did what I needed to do to protect you, Princess.” His voice is low, rough, and it sends a shiver down my spine. Normally I find pet names offensive, sleazy even, but the way he says it doesn’t feel condescending. Warmth pools low in my belly, and I suspect that’s exactly what he meant to happen when he dropped his tone an octave to speak only to me.

“Order up!” The cook bellows, but I ignore him. Too much is going on and I can’t focus.

Kirsten pipes up again, looking at me with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Can we get out of here already? The placesmells like shit, and your mom is hosting a celebration dinner at our house tonight.”

I freeze. My heart drops. “What do you mean? My mother is at your house?”

Kirsten nods, so matter-of-factly. “Didn’t you know? She’s marrying our dad. I mean, it’s kinda sad how they met, but like, what a whirlwind. Seven days to fall in love.”

Seven days?

The line cook slams his hand down on the counter, making me flinch. “Get over here and pick up this food, you little bitch, or I’ll?—”

He’s cut off by Hayden storming past me, slamming through the kitchen door so roughly it swings wide behind him. There’s a loud clamoring of what sounds like kitchen equipment being knocked around and then there’s just the dead silence after. When Hayden emerges, the new cook is trailing behind him and he won’t even look at me.

“I’m sorry,” the cook says, his voice thick and shaky.

Hayden stretches out his hand, a cocky grin on his face. “Looks like you have the afternoon off, Princess.”

“I need this job,” I say, shaking my head. “You can’t just?—”

“You don’t have to work here,” Hayden interrupts, his voice dark with something I can’t quite place. It feels possessive, like he feels like I belong to him.

“Didn’t you know that your mom’s been at our house all week?” Kirsten asks. “She made it seem like you were just tying up some loose ends before you came to stay with us.” That sounds like my mother. Fake it till you make it, am I right? I’ve been picking up as many shifts as I possibly can, so I thought my schedule just wasn’t aligning with Mom’s. I texted her today to let her know I’d earned enough tips to get the rent paid on time, but I didn’t receive a response.

I try to swallow the anger rising in my chest, but it’s hard. It’s too much. Too fast. Too soon. But the confusion in my head gets drowned out when Hayden places a hand on my back, guiding me toward the door.

“I can toss you over my shoulder, if you want,” he says, his voice is deep and somehow I feel like the threat is more for the truck drivers than for me.

I glance at the truck drivers, who are still eyeing me like I’m their next meal, and make up my mind. I untie my apron, grab my box cutter and toss the stained fabric onto the counter.

“I feel like I’m going to regret this,” I say, following Hayden.

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