Page 38 of The Pucker and the Princess
Letting out a rough exhale, he shakes his head again. “I always get all twisted up in these relationships, trying my best to be everything for her, y’know? I mean, I don’t let a relationship distract me from hockey. I’ve always been able to compartmentalize life off the ice so it doesn’t mess up my game. But …” Another sigh. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t really know what a relationship’s supposed to be like. Because every time I try to act the way I think I’m supposed to, I end up being mean to little kids and accidentally letting someone move into my house who wants to sell my things out from under me while trying to pressure me into spending money to upgrade my car and decor.”
I raise my eyebrows at that. “That’s very specific,” I murmur.
He glances at me. “Yeah, well, that was all Jenny too. She’d been kicked out of her place right before we went to the cabin in Arcadian Falls, but of course she didn’t bother telling me that until we’d been back for a couple weeks and she’d stayed with me the whole time. At first I thought it was because she liked me so much, but …”
“But you realized she was just using you,” I finish for him.
He nods, his jaw clenching, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that I’m pretty sure his knuckles are white, though it’s too dim in the car to tell.
I suck in a deep breath, not quite sure what to say. “I think,” I say slowly after several minutes of silence have stretched between us, “that you’re not really the problem.”
He lets out a humorless, “Ha!” sparing me a brief glance as he navigates into the parking lot of our condo building and pulling into his spot. “That’s kind of you to say,” he says, finally turning to look at me as he turns off the car.
Neither of us move, staring at each other for long moments.
“It’s not,” I say at last, breaking the silence. “I’m not being kind. I’m being honest. You’re a good man who gets easily attached to things. Take this truck, for example. Most people would say it’s just a truck. What’s the big deal? Why not upgrade? You can definitely afford something fancier. Shinier. Newer. Dare I say, nicer.”
He narrows his eyes at that last statement, and I hold up my hands as though to ward him off.
“I’mnot saying that. I’m saying there are plenty of people whowould. But you love this truck. It works well, and it has sentimental value. I get it. I think you should keep it for as long as you can justify it, even if you decide to get something fancier to go with it.”
He opens his mouth, his brow furrowed, and holds his breath for a second. Then he exhales on a sigh, closes his mouth, and looks away, shaking his head.
After waiting a beat for a response, I continue softly. “There’s nothing wrong with being sentimental. And I’d be thelastperson to criticize you for being sentimental about a car. I love cars. I work on cars in my spare time for fun. Parting with my last project car was painful, even though I knew she was going to a good home. I just couldn’t justify the expense of shipping her here, and she wasn’t practical for daily driving. And I haveto have a project car in progress. Some people play sports or do crafts or whatever.” I shrug, holding up my hands. “I build cars.”
The smile he gives me is soft and warm. “I think it’s so neat that you do that. I don’t really have time for hobbies. Hockey’s my whole life and has been since I was a kid. All my friends, apart from you, are teammates or former teammates. All my time’s been dedicated to it since we figured out I was good enough to play at a higher level than the local rec league when I was a kid. I’ve been busting my ass since I was in elementary school, working to be the best.”
“And it’s paid off,” I put in. “I mean, look at you!”
He nods a little ruefully. “It’s true. I got what I wanted. I have the life I’ve been dreaming of since I was little. And it’s amazing! I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But I’ve always wanted someone to share it with, y’know? And since I was so focused on hockey, I didn’t really make time to have any lasting relationships when I was younger. I didn’t learn those skills. And now? Now I can’t tell if a woman’s interested in me because she actually likesme”—he lays a hand over his chest—“or if she just likes the fact I’m a professional hockey player with money and a certain amount of fame. And because I always want to believe the best of people, I assume it’s the first one and it always,alwaysturns out to be the second.”
I give him a sympathetic smile. “My situation isn’t quite the same, but I know the feeling of hoping for the best but only getting the worst. Of assuming someone is one way, only to find out in the most painful manner that they’re not the way they presented themselves at all.”
After heaving a big sigh, he turns an overly bright smile on me. “Enough depressing past relationship talk for tonight. It’s aholiday! We’re supposed to be celebrating. Wanna come up for a beer and some sports highlights?”
Laughing, I nod. “Sounds perfect.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dozer
“What’sthe deal with that chick you brought to Abernathy’s yesterday?” Bouchard asks me as we lace up our skates before taking the ice to warm up before tonight’s game. His locker’s only a few down from mine, and we’ve become friends over the last couple of years we’ve played together. “I’ve seen her around the building, but hadn’t met her before.”
A new guy—Barlowe—on his other side perks up. “You brought a woman to Thanksgiving at the captain’s house?” He lets out a low whistle. “Sounds serious.”
I wave them both off. “It’s not like that. She’s just a friend.”
Barlowe laughs, clearly not buying it, and Bouchard raises his eyebrows.
“Just a friend?” he clarifies.
Nodding, I stand, reaching for my stick. “Just a friend. She helped me out when I needed a jump. Remember? That day you and Jenkins laughed at me when you learned I was stranded?”He guffaws, nodding. “Anyway, she’s new to the area, just moved up here from Texas a few months ago. We hang out sometimes.” That’s an understatement. We hang out a lot. Lately, if I’m not on the road or here, I’m spending time with Marissa. “Since she doesn’t have family here, I invited her along to Abernathy’s. You know Tina’s always happy to take in a few strays. That’s howyougot an invite, after all.”
“Me? A stray?” he questions in mock outrage. “I’ll have you know I’m practically one of the family!”
“Uh-huh. Join the club.”
“There’s a club? Do we have membership cards or a secret handshake?”
