Page 17 of The Pucker and the Princess
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Okay, I’ve got you on speaker.” I hear tapping on her side. “I’m looking him up. He’s a professional hockey player?”
“Yes.” Maybe I should’ve looked him up.
“Ohhh.” Mom’s tone sounds almost sly. “He’s cute. It says here that his last name is Boggs. Dozer Boggs. Oh! No. His parents aren’t insane. They named him Benjamin. Dozer is apparently some kind of nickname. I guess in hockey it could make sense? Like bulldozer?”
“Yeah, okay. I can see that.” I’ve wondered about his name, too, but hadn’t thought to Google him.
“So you helped him change his car battery? What kind of car?”
“An older Toyota Tacoma. Nothing fancy. Just a basic mid-size pickup.”
“Really?” Mom sounds very surprised.
“Yeah.” I draw the word out slowly. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Oh, well, it’s just that I found his contract terms with the Emeralds, and it’s just surprising that a young man like that would have such a modest vehicle.”
“Maybe he has expensive tastes in other areas,” I counter, not wanting to think about what him driving a normal pickup like that might say about him if he doesn’t. I already like him more than feels safe to me. Which is why I turned down dinner.
Dinner—even if we went somewhere mid-range—feels too much like a date. And being on a date with someone like Dozer seems like opening myself up for another round of heartache. I justdon’t have it in me again. Not now. Not on top of moving and a new job and homesickness.
“Maybe,” Mom says, though she sounds doubtful. “It seems like he’d make the news if he were partying or doing something illegal, though.”
“Unless he’s got a good PR team.” I sound ridiculous, but I won’t stop. I can’t. Then I’d have to admit, at least to myself, that I actually like him.
“I suppose.” Doubt drips from Mom’s voice. “He helps with charity events, though. The whole team does, of course, but he’s done extra with Make A Wish, and he seems to help out a lot with teaching hockey to kids. If his PR is to be believed, he seems like a good guy. And if you helped him, it seems like he’s not a complete jerk.”
“No,” I answer softly. “Not a complete jerk.” Our first meeting notwithstanding. He hasn’t been a jerk to me since then.
“When are you going to see him next?”
I laugh at the question. “I don’t know, Mom. We’ve seen each other around a few times. I’m sure I’ll bump into him again eventually.”
She hums. “It says here the regular season starts in a few weeks. He’ll be traveling a lot. You need to lock him down now.”
Another incredulous laugh bursts out of me. “Lock him down? What are you even talking about?”
“He’s perfect!” Mom crows. “Financially stable. He likes sports. He’s in great shape. Passionate. Driven. What more could you want in a man?”
“Oh, I dunno, Mom. One who supports me. Loves me. Wants me to succeed as much as he wants to succeed as well.”
“Okay. Why can’t that be this guy?”
I splutter, unable to come up with a real answer. “Who says he would be that guy?” I finally manage to spit out. “I barely know him. And all you know is what his news clippings say.”
“And I know he doesn’t mind letting a woman help him.Youjumped his car.Youtaught him how to change his battery. And you said he wasn’t a jerk. Those would be prime situations for a guy who couldn’t handle you to show his true colors. You and I both know that men like … well, men who aren’t right for you wouldn’t be able to let you take the lead like that.”
Like Peter. That’s what she was going to say. Men like Peter.
Oh, sure, Peter acted like he supported me. He let me help work on cars when Dad wasn’t around. He showed me a few things I didn’t already know. But he was the one with the power. He was the one who allowed, or didn’t allow, me to helphim.
With Dozer, I was the one in charge, as Mom so succinctly pointed out. The few times I tried to do that with Peter, it blew up spectacularly.
“Still,” I say. “Just because he let me show him how to change his battery doesn’t mean I want to date him.”
Mom doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then responds in a quiet voice. “It’s been years since you broke up with Peter, sweetie. I want you to be happy. And I know moving on was difficult when you were still here, and he’s still working for your father. But that’s why you left. That’s why you quit working at the shop, took the sales job, and look how far you’ve gone! I’mso proud of you and how you’ve taken control of your life and not let anyone dictate it for you. But don’t continue to let Peter dictate whether you allow yourself a relationship. Don’t let him keep controlling you so long after you ended things with him.”
