Page 67 of Wilder Puck
She shrugs, her eyes darting over my shoulder to where my dad's still standing. I turn my head toward him, and he’s glancing down at his phone. Her gaze finds mine again, searching. “Is everything all right with your dad? You both looked pretty intense just now.”
I blow out a breath, the ghost of our conversation rattling around in my head. “I don't know, Ads. He's got some opinions, that's for sure.”
She snorts delicately. “That's one way to put it. If the looks he's been shooting me all night are any indication, I'd say his opinion of me hasn't improved much over the years.”
“Hey.” I catch her hand, but she pulls away. “He’s a hard ass, so don’t mind him. I can deal with him. But enough aboutmy family. Madison’s gone. Looks like my dad is leaving. The teams are heading out soon. All I’ve been thinking about is how to get you alone.”
She whispers, “It’s been five years of friendship today, and because I know you think I’m your good luck charm, I have something for you.”
“I didn’t get you anything,” I mutter, feeling like an asshole.
She tugs me into the garage where no one can see us. She pulls out something from her pocket and shoves it into my pocket quickly.
I have zero time to know what it is, so I attempt to grab it. She tries to stop me, but I yank it out and hold it in front of me.
It’s her thong with the hockey sticks on the front. Immediately, all my blood goes straight to my dick.
“Baddie,” I muster, my mood instantly no longer annoyed. “You arebad.”
She smiles. “I think the underwear has the good luck.”
I stare at it and ask, “I want you to be wearing these on game nights.”
She steps closer to me. “I bought something new for the games you win.”
“Win?” I lick my lips, staring down at hers. This must be happening because of number one on my list. “What if I lose?”
She shrugs. “Don’t lose.”
When my hands grip her waist, she laughs, “Let’s get back to the party.”
I shove the thong in my pocket and plant a kiss on her. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Chapter 21
A few days later.
I stare at the eviction notice in my hand, the words blurring together as hot tears prick my eyes. This can't be happening. Not now. I was planning to surprise Ryan at his next game. It looks like I’ll need my shift back at the bar.
It's only been a month since my landlord raised the rent, only to backtrack it a week later. I thought I was safe, that I'd bought myself some time to figure out a better solution. But apparently, this has all been temporary.
Because now I'm holding a piece of paper that says I have thirty days to vacate the premises. Thirty days to pack up my entire life and find somewhere else to live while maintaining my work schedule.
I want to scream. I want to march down to the leasing office and give that weaselly little property manager a piece of my mind. But I can't, because I have to be at work in twenty minutes and I can't afford to lose even a single shift.
Bartending at Taylor's Sports Bar isn't exactly my dream job now that I’ve been at it for a few weeks, but it helps pay the bills. But I might be shit out of luck with that now.
I took a risk by starting Baddie Addie’s Coffee Shop, and I pray that I don’t ever have to close her. She’s my pride and joy.
God, what a mess.
My coffee shop pays for itself, but I don’t get much as the owner. This shit is backward, I swear. The headaches and stress that come with being a business owner are hard.
I take a deep, shuddering breath and toss the notice onto my couch. I can't deal with this right now. I have to focus on getting through the night without falling apart.
I throw on my Taylor’s Sports Bar uniform, a snug black tank top, and fitted jeans, and pull my hair into a messy bun. A swipe of mascara and some tinted lip balm and I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I stare in the mirror at myself and mutter, “No crying.”
When I push through the front door of the bar, the familiar smells of stale beer and greasy pub food wash over me. It's not exactly a five-star establishment, but it's clean and the regulars are mostly harmless.
