Page 48 of Puck of the Irish

“Oh, absolutely.”

Twenty

NAT

“I’m prettysure Zamboni’s posts are getting even more attention than your shirtless ones!” I call from the couch, grinning while I scroll through the Clipper app. Everyone is completely in love with the Vipers’ newest little mascot and the videos of him running around the ice or pretending to run concessions or up in the broadcast booth with a headset on are getting mega views. I reach out and pet the lump of fur currently snoozing on my feet. He thumps his tail happily in his sleep and I grin.

AJ comes back into the room and hands me a beer, eyeing the couch where there’s no room left for him thanks to the way Zamboni is sprawled out, and settling into the chair to my left instead.

“Speaking of: you haven’t been posting those so much lately.” I quirk a brow in question.

“Oh, yeah. Well…I kind of thought you’d be upset if I did?” I laugh at that and his brow furrows.

“I won’t be upset,” I assure him. He gives me a very dubious look. “I swear. For one, it’s like your thing, you can’t stop that now just because we’re together. You’re extremely sexy and that should be shared with the world,” I shrug. “Plus, well…I dunno, it’s kind of hot to see all these people out there thirsting over you but knowing that you’re inmybed. Or, well, I’m in yours technically I suppose since we usually stay here, but, yeah.”

He narrows his eyes at me.

“What?” I ask, throwing up my hands.

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re fucking with me or if this is some kind of test. Like a boyfriend test that I really don’t want to fail.” I laugh at that and ease out from beneath Zamboni’s head. He opens one eye to squint at me, but I scratch his ear and he lays back down happy enough. I set my beer down on the side table and slide into AJ’s lap, straddling his waist while I drape my arms over his shoulders. He gives me a low, appreciative hum, running his free hand over one thigh.

“No tests. No tricks. I’m serious. If you want to keep posting them, do it. Every like and comment just fuels my little ego knowing that I have what they want. What they get to fantasize about, I get to touch and taste. It’s probably a fucked up way to look at it, but it’s the truth.” I shrug. It’s true. I mean, it’s human nature to have what other people covet, right? It’s why we buy expensive cars and watches and purses.

He sets his beer to the side and slides his hand to my nape, pulling me to him for a slow, lazy kiss that makes my pulse race and my toes curl. There’s a promise of pure fire beneath that kiss, the vow that it will burn out of control soon enough. We’ve honestly been fucking like rabbits since we started this thing and I can’t say that I’m mad about it. He wasn’t kidding when he said he had plans for me all over the house. We even made a legit list one night—alcohol may have been involved—and have it taped up beside the dresser in the bedroom. We’ve marked off abouta third of it and though there are a few that I’m really not quite sure are even physically possible, it’s a hell of a sexy, fun game making our way through the list.

He runs his hand up my thigh and over my side, slipping his fingers beneath my shirt as he moves his hand higher over my bare back. I shiver at his touch, little sparks of desire dancing over every inch that his skin touches mine. He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, still keeping things slow and measured, but there’s command and dominance in the way he controls the kiss.It’s going to be one of those nights then, I think with a grin. Sometimes, he’s in complete control and I’m all too happy to surrender to him, letting him do anything and everything he wants. Others, he wants to relax and let me call the shots. Sometimes it’s hot and heavy and frenzied. Others slow and sweet and passionate. He’s showed me new tricks that make me wet just to think about, and there are times when the way he looks at me, I would swear it’s like I’m the only woman he’s ever seen or can remember.

He kisses down my neck and I tilt my head back to give him better access. He knows exactly where to flick his tongue or graze his teeth to drive me wild.

“We…haven’t hit the garage yet…” I gasp when he sucks gently at the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, the sensation sending ripples of pleasure through every inch of me.

“Mmm, I could be persuaded…”

My phone rings then and I groan. I glance over and see that dad is calling me. I haven’t spoken to him since our fight at the restaurant, though we did exchangeMerry Christmastexts. I’ve been trying really hard to find it in me to forgive him, and I think I mostly have, but that doesn’t mean that we’re on good terms. I sigh and turn my head back to meet AJ’s eyes.

“I should answer,” I sigh.

He kisses me quickly. “Go head, babe. We’ve got all night…”

The promise sends a little shiver down my spine but I reluctantly ease off of him and grab my phone.

“Hello.”

“Oh, hello, Natalie. I wasn’t expecting you to answer.”

“Well, I did,” I say. I wander towards the back of the room to the wall-to-wall glass doors and stare out into the woods, the mountains far in the distance just hulking shadows right now in the darkness. “Look, dad, I’m tired of being mad at you. I know you didn’t mean to say what you did about mom.”

“I didn’t and I’m sorry, Natalie. I was frustrated and it didn’t come out right at all.” I nod to myself, knowing that if dad is apologizing he actually means it. It doesn’t happen often.

“I know. And I’m over it now but I need to know if you’re past the rest of that conversation. I need to know if you’re ready to accept that my life is my own, and stop belittling the things that make me happy for fuck’s sake. I need to know if you’re ready to drop this job thing.”

“I’m…not, no. Not entirely.” I sigh and see in the reflection that AJ standing in the middle of the living room behind me, arms crossed and looking tense.

“Then I’m not ready to have a relationship with you right now. I’m not mad. I don’t hate you. I love you, dad, despite all of our bullshit, I do, but I’m not going to have a relationship with you if you can’t accept me and my life as they are, if you can’t…love me for who I am instead of who you want me to be. And I’m not sorry for that. I’m happier than I have ever been, and if you can’t see that and be ok with it, then I’m ok not having you be a part of that happiness.” Tears prick my eyes, but I won’t back down from this. I’ve given it way too much thought in these weeks since our fight, since Shep and Hattie almost died, since I started things with AJ and I’ve been so fucking happy that I feel like my heart may literally break from it.

And I knew that this might be his answer. I prepared myself to have this conversation, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell to have him activelychoosenot to be a part of my life. I don’t think he’s doing it out of malice or spite, it’s just the way he is. He’s used to getting what he wants and knowing more than anyone else in the room. He’s one of the top guys in the industry for a reason. He’s confident and sure and isn’t used to being told no or not having his requests—or demands—met. So, I don’t blame him, exactly, but I won’t just roll over or look past it. Not this time. Not anymore.

“Natalie,” he says, and I can hear exasperation in his voice, but a bit of pain too. He knows I’m not joking and I guess it counts for something that he cares enough to be wounded by it, but it doesn’t bother him enough to just swallow his pride and let this notion that I’m going to follow in his footsteps and carry on the family legacy go. So, this is where we are.

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