Page 23 of The Pucker and the Princess
“That makes sense,” I murmur. “That’s cool you kept that car for so long. That’s like me and my truck. I bought it when I first started getting paid to play hockey. I could afford something newer and fancier. The last woman I dated didn’t understand why I wouldn’t upgrade.” I make a face. “We went to a cabin with a couple of my teammates over the summer, and she insisted I rent a nicer car for the drive.” I glance over at Marissa, who’s watching me, rapt. “It was only a few hours’ drive, by the way. And my pickup is just as roomy as that car.” I shake my head in disgust, both at her insistence that my truck was beneath her—because even if she didn’t come right out and say that, that’s what she was thinking—and at the fact that I gave in.
What was I thinking?
Oh, right. I wasn’t. Well, I guess I was, but I was thinking I wanted to keep her happy so she’d keep having sex with me. I was thinking that’s what you do in a relationship, right? Make sacrifices for the other person’s happiness? Except somehow, she never seemed to need to sacrifice anything on my behalf. And all she wanted from me was money. Money for fancy clothes, fancy cars, fancy furniture …
None of my simple, practical choices were ever good enough for her, even though some of the things she disliked—like my couches—were plenty expensive. They just don’tlookflashy.
And with her, it was all about looks from start to finish. I just wish I would’ve realized that sooner.
Marissa clears her throat, pulling me out of my dreary thoughts. “How long ago did that end?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Not long enough.” Shaking my head, I glance at her again. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t be griping about my ex while we’re together, should I?”
She gives me a small smile. “Gripe away. We’re friends, right? Don’t friends complain about their shitty exes? I could trade stories with you if you like.”
That makes me grin. “I’m not the only one with a track record of picking badly, I take it?”
She wrinkles her nose. “I never thought about it that way, really. I just have a tendency to give people too many chances. Or at least, I gave one man too many chances, and I’ve promised myself that I won’t do that again. That relationship lasted several years too long, and the ones since have all been short-lived because I wasn’t willing to put up with anyone’s crap anymore.”
I grunt. “That sounds like a pretty good way to look at it, if you ask me. I should do the same thing. I don’t give people too many chances, but I do assume the best and rationalize their bad choices until it’s blindingly obvious they’re just using me.”
“Quite a pair we make, don’t we?”
I flash her a grin. “At least we know we have something in common.”
She chuckles. “I guess so.”
After parking and climbing out of the truck, I stuff my hands in my pockets so I don’t do something dumb like reach out to put my hand on the small of her back when we enter the bar.
Ryan, the manager, is behind the bar tonight, and he lifts his chin in greeting when we walk in. “Heya, Dozer. Nice job at the preseason game the other night. It’s always fun watching the D-men score.”
“Not as much fun as a goalie goal, though,” I shoot back. “But yeah. Lighting up the lantern always feels good.”
“How’s it feel being back without Easton?”
“It’s weird. We’ve been playing together so long, and usually on the same line. I keep looking for him on the ice, but he’s not there.” I shake my head.
“He’ll definitely be missed. I’d hoped to at least see him around here, but I heard he moved out to a small town in the mountains?”
“Yeah. He’s got plans for starting some kind of youth hockey thing over there. But the real reason he stayed is ’cause he met a chick.”
Ryan’s eyebrows go up. “Ah. I hadn’t heard that tidbit. Have you met the lucky lady?”
“I did. Didn’t spend a lot of time with her?—”
“I’m sure Easton kept her plenty busy,” Ryan quips, and I grin before continuing.
“Something like that. She seems nice, though. Quiet. But he fell hard and fast.” I shrug. “You know how that goes.”
“Don’t I ever.” Ryan’s on his third wife, and while this one’s held on the longest, the start of their relationship was fast and furious, if the stories he tells are to be believed.
“This is my friend, Marissa. She’s new in town, so I wanted to show her the best places to get a drink.”
“Places, plural?” Ryan pastes on an offended look. “And where else’re you gonna go that’s as good as here?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “Nowhere. Why d’you think we’re here?”
“That’s the answer. What’re you drinking tonight?”
