Page 34 of The Pucker and the Princess
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dozer
I glanceat Marissa in the passenger seat of my truck, a heavy ceramic pie plate covered in foil balanced on her lap. She’s dressed up today, which isn’t unusual for her, though I’ve gotten more used to her casual looks since we’ve been hanging out more. I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s dressed up to go to Nick and Tina’s for Thanksgiving, though. Her outfit’s more casual than the severe skirt suits she favors for work, but definitely dressier than the hoodie and jeans she wears to hockey games and out for drinks after or the joggers and oversized sweater she favors when coming over to my place. If we’re going out just to go out—not after a game—she tends to dress up a bit.
She’s still a princess, after all, even if she’s one who doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty.
Today she has on a drapey burgundy sweater that seems to criss cross over her front, leaving a deep V of exposed skin that shows off the swell of her cleavage. She’s paired the sweater with black pants, and the pointy toes of shiny black boots poke out fromthe hem. It’s effortlessly chic, which is how I’d sum up Marissa’s non-work going out attire.
It’s impressive, honestly.
“Are you nervous?” I ask at a stoplight.
She turns wide eyes on me. “Well, I am now!”
Laughing, I refocus on traffic as the light turns green.
“Seriously!” she protests. “Why would you even ask me that?”
I hold up a placating hand. “Sorry! I was going to reassure you if you were. Nick and Tina are great. They’ll love you, I promise. I’m pretty sure Bouchard is the only other guy coming. He’s Canadian, where they have Thanksgiving in October, but he loves coming to American Thanksgiving, so if he gets an invite, he’s there.”
“What if he gets more than one?”
Grinning, I shrug. “He goes where he thinks they’ll have the best food.”
That makes her chuckle. “Ah. I see. A few of my brothers friends were like that, I think.” She glances my way. “They were athletes, too, so it makes sense.”
“You mentioned he played football.”
“He did. Through college. He wasn’t good enough to go pro, but one of his roommates did. He played for the Washington Mountain Lions for a while but got traded to Florida last year.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “See? You are connected to a lot of interesting people.”
“I’m not sure that my brother’s college roommate who I never met counts as much of a connection.” Her voice is dry as the Sahara.
I shrug again. “It is in a six degrees of Kevin Bacon kind of way.”
That gets a bark of laughter out of her. “I guess that’s true. But you’re one to talk. You’re a professional hockey player! You know tons of famous athletes. Probably other types of celebrities too.”
“Nah. Not really other types of celebrities. But you’re just proving my point that you somehow manage to collect a whole roster of people connected to you who are in famous types of careers—your superstar sister and brother-in-law, your brother’s roommate, me. And soon you’ll be able to add Nick Abernathy and Jack Bouchard to that illustrious list.”
She giggles. “You think you’re illustrious, huh?”
“Obviously,” I say, leaning hard on the word to emphasize the aggrandizing sarcasm. “Who’s more illustrious than me?”
I park outside Nick and Tina’s house, looking over at Marissa to see her face scrunched up like she’s deep in thought.
“You know,” she says after a second in a wondering voice, “I can’t think of anyone more illustrious than you.” That comes out in the most patronizing way possible, and it makes me laugh.
“Good. I’m glad we agree about that.”
Her expression turns apprehensive before she unbuckles her seatbelt. “Welp. Here goes nothin’.”
“I told you,” I say, opening my own door and climbing out of the truck. “They’ll love you. How could they not?”
She gives a rueful chuckle. “How could they not, indeed?”
The question is quiet, like I’m eavesdropping on a conversation she’s having with herself and lacking context to boot.
