Page 73 of Pucking the Grump

I pull Justin in for a hug, and the rest of the team surrounds us, making me the sappy filling in a sweaty, hockey-player pastry, before we finally head toward the tunnel where the press is waiting.

But when I spot the redhead jogging my way through the shadows, the reporter motioning me over might as well be invisible.

“We did it, Bossy!” I cheer, throwing my arms wide as she runs faster.

She jumps into me with enough force that I have to brace myself to keep from falling over.

“That between-the-legs pass to Grammercy!” she shouts in my ear as I hug her tight. “Are you kidding me? How fucking sweet was that?” She pulls back as I set her down, gripping my biceps through my uniform, her eyes bright with joy. “And that one-timer! When you only had maybe?—”

“A quarter-second window, tops?” I finish, grinning so hard my jaw starts to hurt.

But if there’s something better than this feeling, of sharing a win with a woman who is as crazy about hockey and the Badgers as I am, I can’t name it.

“Against literally the best goalie in the league,” she continues, shrugging as she adds, “I mean, besides Tank and Shane. God, they were so good tonight. You all were. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“I love you,” I say, lifting the jersey still clutched in my hand into the air between us. “Thank you so much for helping with this. It’s perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” She leans in for a swift, but hot-as-fuck kiss, before pulling back to cup my face in her hands. “You did it, baby. You went out just like you wanted to. I’m so happy for you.”

“We did it,” I correct. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you, Rem.” I laugh. “I’m so glad I don’t have to fly back to Portland for Game 7 right now. I’ve missed the fuck out of you.”

“Four whole days,” she teases as I brush a strand of hair from her face. “How did you survive?” Glancing over my shoulder, she adds in a softer voice, “Speaking of survival, you’d better go give interviews before the reporters go fully rabid. I’ll wait for you outside the locker room, okay? And we can grab a cab to the after-party? I caught a ride with Dad earlier since I knew traffic was going to be a nightmare.”

“Sounds good,” I agree, even as I put my secret plan in motion. “But can we stop by the apartment on the way? I need to see Barb. She made me promise I’d let her give me kisses if we won, and four days is a long time to be away from my princess.”

“You’re such a simp for that dog,” she says, with an affectionate shake of her head.

“I’m more of a simp for you,” I whisper. “You’ve got me whooped so hard it makes that ass-kicking we just gave Seattle look gentle in comparison.”

She laughs. “Good. And heading to the apartment first is fine. We can probably walk to the party from there. The team hotel is only about half a mile from our place.”

“Perfect,” I say. “See you in a few.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, we’re being whisked away from the arena through the thankfully no longer horrific traffic, proving that being a winner who has to stay behind to give interviews is the gift that never stops giving.

As we head into our new building, I wave at Jenson, the manager currently on duty behind the front desk. Our eyes meet while Remy and I are waiting for the elevator, and he gives a subtle nod and smile, confirming the plan must have gone off without a hitch.

But then, Jenson is clearly a dog lover, too. When I snuck over earlier while Remy was having lunch with her dad to give him the supplies, Barb seemed to feel at home with him right away.

I hope she looks adorable in her new duds. I didn’t have time to try them on her earlier. There was barely time to fill Jenson in on the plan, introduce him to Barb, and thank him profusely for helping a near stranger pull off a proposal for the ages.

At least, I hope it’s all come together the way I’ve imagined…

The second we step inside our new place on the fifteenth floor, I know it did. The entryway is littered with white rose petals, and “First Day of my Life,” Remy’s favorite Bright Eyes song, plays softly from the speakers.

“What the…” Remy trails off as Barb comes trotting around the corner from our bedroom, right on cue, looking ridiculous and perfect in her little white dress with a flower crown. Remy’s jaw drops as she glances my way, then back at Barb, then back to me. “Is Barb getting married?”

“Of course not,” I correct as I take her hands in mine. “That’s clearly a flower girl dress, woman, not a wedding dress.”

“Clearly,” Remy echoes in a stunned voice, sucking in a breath as I drop to one knee and pull the ring box from the pocket of my suit jacket.

“Remy Lauder,” I begin, love filling every corner of my heart. Now that the moment is here, my anxiety is gone. All that’s left is gratitude that this beautiful, strong, talented, absolutely fantastic woman is looking down at me like she can’t wait to say yes. “I love you, Bossy. I love your drive and your integrity. I love your smile and your raunchy sense of humor. I love the way you spoil my fur baby and the way you let me spoil you. I love your gentle heart and your will of iron and most of all I love your pussy.”

She huffs out a laugh, but a beat later, a tear slides slowly down her cheek.

But it’s a happy tear. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.

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