Page 1 of My Pucking Valentine

ONE

CLARA

I bitethe corner of my lip, and my heart races as those three little typing awareness indicator dots appear on my phone. He’s texting me back. Is he going to come over? I’m showered, shaved, and perfumed. Not to mention dressed in my sexiest dress.

I amsoready.

I can’t believe I am this feral for this man.

Absolutely and totally insane for him.

If he told me to jump, I would beg him to tell me how high.

Then I would obey without question.

When the text message finally comes through, I let out a grunt, and my entire body deflates. I actually feel the air escaping my lungs and my shoulders slump. Disappointment consumes me instantaneously.

LUKE: Can’t tonight. Going out with the guys after the game. We won.

I should be congratulating him on their win. It’s a big deal. He’s a professional hockey player, a power player at that. They’re in the race for the playoffs. It’s a really big deal when they win. But that doesn’t mean I have tolikethe fact that he isn’t going to meet up with me tonight of all nights.

On Valentine’s Day.

I spent the entire day imagining what it would be like tonight. I’ve never dated anyone during any holiday. On Christmas, we didn’t really do anything. He went to his mother’s, and I went to Wisconsin to my mom’s and stepfather’s house like I do every year. But this is different.

Thisis Valentine’s Day.

I know it would be weird if I asked him where he was going and then just happened to show up there. It would be cringy and creepy, without a doubt. It would also be bad and would possibly put this whole secret thing in jeopardy.

But tonight?

Really?

Of all nights. Tonight, he says he’s out with the guys.

Shaking my head, I decide not to do that, even though it’s exactly what Iwantto do. I close my eyes and imagine showing up wherever he is and just standing across the room from him wearing a smile—inwardly beckoning him to come to me. Leave with me. Tell the world that he’s mine. I know that isn’t possible, though.

Nobody can ever know he’s mine—that I’m his. It must stay a secret between us. As much as I want the world to know, they can never. Not ever. Nobody would understand.

Instead of asking him where he is or making him feel guilty about missing tonight, I decide to send him a short text and try not to sound too clingy or sad. I’m seriously disappointed, though.

That’s okay!! Next time!!

HittingSend, I immediately wince as I reread the text. It’s not the words as much as the four exclamation points. It’s too much. I’m too eager. And it’s painfully apparent that I’m being over the top.

Obviously, I was looking forward to tonight way too much. Our first Valentine’s together. I wanted it to be special, well, as special as a secret relationship can be. With a heavy sigh, I toss my phone onto the bed and watch as it bounces a few times.

I try not to be pissed off about the whole thing, but the disappointment I feel is all-consuming. I leave the bedroom and head into the living room, where my two roommates are watching television.

Barbara’s boyfriend works nights at a bar, and Sarah is single at the moment, so they had planned a girls’ night tonight. They both lift their heads, their eyes finding mine as if they can sense the vibes I’m giving off, which are not happy ones.

Both of their expressions change in almost an instant, and I feel bad because they had been smiling when I walked into the room, and I killed it—dead.

“He can’t meet with you?” Sarah asks, already knowing the reason my mood is sour.

“Can’t, won’t, whatever,” I mumble as I walk past them and into the kitchen.

I’m still in mylet’s have sexy timesoutfit, and I feel as though it’s burning my skin, but I need something to drink before I cry. Reaching for a bottle of white wine on the counter, I open the cabinet and take down my favorite glass before I fill half of it with the sweet Riesling. Thankfully, it’s still cold, but I’m not above adding ice, either.

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