Page 35 of Pucking the Grump

“He’s not going to connect the dots,” I mutter to myself, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “He hardly ever talks to Juliet, and even if they run into each other in the halls, she isn’t going to say anything about me being late. Once. In three years. Everything is fine.”

Except it’s not fine. The mandatory weekly team meeting started twenty-eight minutes ago, and Stone is still behind me somewhere on the highway. My father expects every team member in his assigned seat at least five minutes early, notepads out, phones off, ready to receive his wisdom. Dad’s time is a treasure, not to be squandered or disrespected.

Being late to any meeting with him is akin to pissing on the Mona Lisa, let alone a work meeting.

I should have hauled my ass off the couch last night and set the alarm myself.

What is wrong with me?

You know exactly what’s wrong with you. Or rather, who… And you aren’t nearly as freaked out about it as you should be.

The inner voice is right.

Yes, my heart is pounding and stress levels are currently high, but I don’t run the red light half a mile from the stadium. And upon pulling into the parking lot, I keep my speed to a respectable twenty miles per hour.

Then, I do something completely bananas.

After parking, I take a beat to smooth on lipstick and redo my hastily brushed ponytail, my thoughts turning to Stone and how terrible I feel for contributing to his lateness. Especially when I was the one who insisted on a second quickie in his walk-in closet last night, even though we were both exhausted and he’d already made me come in the shower.

But what can I possibly do to make this better?

Appealing to my father for mercy on Stone’s behalf would only get us caught and make everything fifty times worse. I suppose I could pretend I needed Stone in the admin office on some urgent piece of morning paperwork, but if that were the case, Dad knows me well enough to know I would call down to the locker room to alert him that Stone was going to be late.

No, the only way an excuse like that would work is if I somehow didn’t have access to a phone.

“No access to a phone,” I mutter, sitting up straighter as inspiration strikes.

A beat later, I’m texting Stone, my fingers flying—When you get here, meet me in the stairwell by the old part of the practice building, okay? I have an idea that might get your ass out of this sling.

His response is immediate—Really? Can’t wait to hear it. Because honestly, my ass is pretty puckered up right now. The closer I get to the parking lot, the more the stress is setting in. At this rate, I may never unclench my cheeks again.

Despite the very serious nature of the current situation, a soft laugh escapes my lips as I text back—Understandable. But I think I’ve got this problem solved. See you soon.

Do I have the problem solved?

I actually think I do, and it’s all thanks to the kind of creative thinking I’m not sure I would have been capable of even a week ago. I was too tapped out for creativity, so focused on my never-ending to-do list that it was starting to feel like I was living in black and white.

But now, as Stone joins me in the stairwell a few minutes later, the world is in vivid color. It’s so bright, I can’t help noticing how vivid his blue, blue eyes are this morning, even as I quickly fill him in on the plan.

“Okay, first step, turn off your phone and give it to me,” I whisper, holding out my hand, palm up. “I’ll put it in my purse, and you can say you left it in your locker. I’ll be sure to get it back to you during your lunch break. I left my phone in my car, so that’s already covered.”

He blinks, looking confused, but he hands his phone over without a fuss. “Okay, but how does this save my poor clenched ass?”

“You’ve heard the rumors about the old wing being haunted, right?” I ask, talking fast. Every moment counts, and we don’t have many to spare. “That’s why the lights are always flickering on and off down there and people keep getting locked in the storage room and the?—”

“The bathroom,” he cuts in, nodding as he catches my drift. “Like Tank and Steph.”

I point a finger at his face. “Bingo. So, here’s the story… I needed to get into the storage room for supplies for my volunteer job. But the boxes of whatever I needed were too high, and I couldn’t find a ladder. I was on my way to maintenance to get one when I saw you coming out of the bathroom next to the storage room and asked if you could help me out. Since you’re tall and, at the time of the asking, you still had fifteen minutes left before you had to be at the morning meeting.”

He grins. “And I said, yes, because I’m a sweetheart like that, but oops! Oh, no! As soon as we stepped inside, the door swung shut, and we were locked in. I would have called for help, but I realized I left my phone in the bathroom! I must have just walked out and left it on the sink after I washed my hands.”

I nod faster. “Ooo, good idea. We can drop it there on the way to the storage area. And, like I said, I left my cell in my car, so we had no way to text anyone.” I turn my lips down hard in a faux “poor me” expression as I lift my hands into the air. “We shouted and shouted for someone to come let us out, but we guess no one heard. So sorry, Coach.”

“Fuck, yes! You’re brilliant!” He snatches me up into a hug, spinning me around as I laugh and hiss, “Stop, psycho. We have to go. Now! This only works if we get ourselves locked up before anyone spots us.”

“Right. Got it.” He sets me down, adding in a rush, “But you’re really sexy when you’re plotting and scheming. And I really appreciate it. I hope you’ll give me the chance to show just how much I appreciate it with some high-quality, extremely focused oral sex at your earliest convenience.”

“What part about we have to go now didn’t you understand?” But I’m fighting a smile as I tell him to, “Focus, horndog.”

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