Page 165 of Pucking Around

“Please shut him up,” Mars mutters, staring out at the waves.

“If only that were possible,” I reply, shaking my head.

Jake punches my arm.

“Ask Mars your question again, Hurricane,” I say, rubbing the spot on my arm.

She goes still, her can of Diet Coke halfway to her lips. “What?”

“Kids, Mars. Yes or no? Well, kid singular, with the serious risk of twin action happening,” I add.

He grunts. “Fine.”

“See? Done. Next question. This time, Rachel answers first.”

“Nuh-uh,” she huffs. “No way. We arenotplaying the game this way—”

“Marriage—yes or no, Jake?” I say over her.

“To Rachel? Fuck yes. In Seattle I was ready to call down to the front desk for an Elvis minister,” he adds.

This pulls a laugh from her. “Where were you planning to find an Elvis minister in Seattle?”

“Baby girl, I’m a millionaire NHL star,” he says, tipping his sunglasses up off his face. “That’s not me bragging, it’s just a fact. If I want an Elvis minister, I’ll find one. Better be on high alert, or I’ll have him jump out from behind a bush and make you say your vows.”

“I swear to god, Jake Compton, if you shotgun marry me with an Elvis minister, I will kill you on the honeymoon,” she replies.

Now we’re all laughing as Jake settles back down in his beach chair.

“Noted. So, it’s not a matter ofifyou’ll marry me. It’s a matter of formality,” he reasons. “Spontaneity is clearly out. And no Elvis. I take it you’re strictly a lace invitations and four-tiered wedding cake kinda girl?”

“I don’t mind a little spontaneity,” she murmurs. “But I’m definitely not a lace invitations girl.”

“She’s a barefoot at the beach, close friends and family only, champagne toasting down the aisle kind of girl,” I reply, stretching my legs out in the warm sand. “And she wants a backless dress to show off her toned muscles. She’s worked hard for them, and she wants to remember how great she looks when she’s old and grey…right, Hurricane?” I say, tipping a smile her way.

She purses her lips, crossing her arms again. “Don’t pretend like you know me, Cay.”

“Idoknow you,” I reply with smirk. “Plus, you may have left your tablet open on the couch yesterday and I sat on it. My ass accidentally pulled up your Pinterest app.” I glance over at Jake. “She’s into Christmas. Like, it’s bad. Worse than you and Amy.”

“Oh,yes,” he says, pumping his fist. “Hey Mars, you like Christmas? They celebrate that in Finland, right?”

The three of us snort.

“Yes, Compton. We have Christmas in Finland,” Mars replies patiently.

“You can’t be so nice to him about everything,” I say at Mars over Rachel’s head. “You gotta punch him, or he doesn’t get the message that he’s being annoying.”

“I get it fine, asshole,” Jake huffs. “I was just trying to be nice to the new guy. But hey, you want me to sit here and shut up? I can do that too.”

Rachel and Mars both laugh.

“No, you really can’t,” I reply. “But she’s gonna make a big deal about it, so just be ready. She’s already pinned a bunch of Finnish Christmas recipes to her Pinterest—”

“God, Cay! Stalk much?” she cries, pouting in her chair.

“Rach, just ask the question you really want to ask so we can move on from the twenty questions portion of beach day,” I press.

“You’re one to talk,” she snaps, narrowing her eyes at me behind her designer shades.

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