Page 36 of The Pucker and the Princess
“Wait,” he says. “Who’s the damsel in distress?”
Scrunching my nose, I scratch the back of my neck. “That’d be me. Marissa helped me out when my battery died before the first preseason game. Remember?” I ask Nick. “I told you about that.”
He purses his lips in thought, then shakes his head. “I believe you, but I don’t remember a thing about that. I feel like I would’ve remembered a princess riding to your rescue.”
Marissa snorts and rolls her eyes. “I thought Dozer’d be the princess in this scenario.”
I pretend to flick hair over my shoulder. “Of course I am. I’m the prettiest princess around.”
“No,I’mthe prettiest princess!” Shelby objects. “Aren’t I, Daddy?”
“Of course you are, sweetie,” Nick says, holding an arm out so she can climb on his lap with her brother. He kisses the side of her head. “You’ll always be the prettiest princess to me.”
“Dozer’s not very pretty,” she whispers loudly, and all the adults break out in laughter.
“Ouch, Shelb!” I clutch my chest. “That hurts. Right here.” I point to my heart.
“Sorry, Uncle Dozer,” she says, though she doesn’t sound very sorry. “I’m just telling the truth, though. Marissa’s a lot prettier than you.”
“I can’t argue with you there,” I agree, glancing at Marissa.
She ducks her head and tucks her hair behind her ear again. “Anyway. I helped Dozer out of a jam, he repaid me by getting me tickets to your first game of the season, and we’ve been hanging out a lot since then. I haven’t had a lot of time to make friends since I’ve been here between work and everything.”
“And it’s not exactly easy to make friends here, either,” Tina puts in sympathetically. “I’ve finally managed to find a few mom-friends at the kids’ schools, but it’s taken years. You’ve only been here a couple months. I see why you’d attach yourself to someone who actually invites you out to things.”
Marissa glances at me. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure about him to start.” She cocks her head, her eyes trailing over me. “But we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well.” She turns back to Tina. “It’s good to have a friend.”
Warmth fills me. Something about Marissa calling me a friend hits different than my teammates.
It takes me a second to figure out why. But I think it’s because Marissa genuinely likes me as a person. Sure, she likes that I get her tickets to hockey games, but I’m confident she’d still hang out with me without that.
And I think it’s the first time in my adult life that a woman has liked me for me.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Marissa
I feela bit out of sorts not helping prepare the meal, but Tina shoos me out of the kitchen, Nick gives me a glass of wine, and Dozer leads me to the couch to relax while Nick and Tina finish getting everything ready after sending their kids off to watch a movie in another room.
They don’t last long, though, popping back in to ask for drinks and snacks and, I think most importantly, to sneak glances at me. I smile and wave at the little boy.Noah,I remind myself when he shyly waves back.
After their third or fourth excursion to the main room, Shelby plants herself on the couch as far away from me as she can get—which isn’t terribly far since Dozer’s on the other end and I’m in the middle, but she’s small enough that there are more than six inches of space between us.
She eyes me up and down, then seems to come to some kind of conclusion. “You don’t seem mean,” she declares at last.
I nearly choke on my mouthful of wine. Holding my hand in front of my face until I can control myself, I manage to swallow, though I end up coughing a few times as I set the stemless wine glass down on the coffee table in front of me. “Um, thanks?” I say hoarsely.
“The last lady that was friends with Uncle Dozer was mean,” she elaborates.
I glance at Dozer, and he’s cringing a little but trying to hide it.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask. “How so?”
Shelby scrunches up her nose and shakes her head, whispy hair flying around. “She didn’t like Noah and me. She kept getting mad at us for being loud.” She leans closer and lowers her voice. “But we weren’t loud. We’re just kids!” She gives an elaborate shrug on the last statement, hands raised to shoulder level, palms up, and I have to bite back a smile.
Leaning closer, I lower my voice to a whisper too. “I don’t think you seem very loud.”
She beams at me, and Noah creeps around the edge of the couch. I glance over the tops of their heads to where their parents stand in the kitchen, shoulder to shoulder, watching this interaction. Tina looks almost apprehensive, like she, too, is worried I’ll be mean to her kids, and I can’t help wondering about this mean woman who Dozer brought around previously.
