Page 66 of The Pucker and the Princess
He glances at me, a half grin tugging at his lips. “Weren’t you the one who commented about every game counting not that long ago? The road to the Stanley Cup starts in the regular season.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “True. I did. And I know. Still, though, it’s not like one game is enough to knock you out of the running, right?”
He dips his head to the side. “That’s true.”
“And you looked amazing out there. I’ve watched you play quite a bit the last couple of months, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so graceful and on point.”
He glances at me, eyebrows raised. “Graceful?”
I return his look. “You don’t think hockey players are graceful, gliding around on the ice like that?”
“I just don’t think anyone’s ever applied that term tomebefore.”
“Seriously? Then they’re delusional.” I lean closer, running my hand up his arm. “You’re gorgeous on the ice. Totally in your element. It’s so fun to watch you play, and when you’re really in the zone like tonight?” I do a chef’s kiss, and he laughs. The full, throaty sound makes me smile. I like making him laugh.
“Well, thank you.” He sounds genuinely pleased at my compliment, almost like he’s not used to being complimented. I file that away and make a mental note to compliment him more often. It’s not something that comes naturally to me, but if it makes him feel more appreciated, I’ll definitely make the effort.
When we get back to our building, he leans over and kisses me after he parks. “Wait here,” he says, then hops out of the truck before I can respond. I unbuckle my seatbelt, watching mystified as he jogs around the front of the truck. The penny drops when he opens my door, making a big flourish with his free hand to indicate I should exit the vehicle.
I know I have a big, dopey grin on my face, but who wouldn’t with these kinds of antics? I climb out and wrap my arms around him, giving him a quick kiss. “You are the sweetest,” I whisper, punctuating the statement with another kiss before releasing him.
Or trying to release him, anyway. He captures me to his chest, kissing me more thoroughly before pulling back with a sound of distress. “Dammit, I’m not gonna make it back to your place if we don’t get going.”
Giggling, I step away so he can close the door. He jogs the couple steps to catch up to me and reaches for my hand, and we’re both smiling like idiots the whole way to the elevator.
I wish I could bring him home with me for Christmas. Since our relationship is less than a week old, it seems way too soon to do that—though we have actually known each other for months now. Still. He probably already has Christmas plans. I don’t want to disrupt that. But having him with me sure would be nice. He’d charm Mom and even Dad would have to respect him a little considering he acts so much like a gentleman, opening doors and all that.
I’ll keep a lid on that thought, though. I don’t want to get ahead of myself.
We separate at my floor. He holds the door to kiss me until the elevator starts beeping, then he pulls away reluctantly. “I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t start without me.”
I shocked laugh erupts from me. “Don’t start without—” He gives me a narrow-eyed look as his meaning sinks in. Then the doors slide closed, and he’s gone.
My cheeks heat as I look around, making sure I’m actually alone. It’s a pretty quiet building, and I don’t often see other residents, but it’d be just my luck that the older couple who live across from me would have caught any part of that.
Fortunately, though, I’m alone. I hurry to my door and unlock it, making sure my place didn’t magically get ransacked andmessed up while I was away. I cleaned earlier, knowing I was going to invite Dozer over tonight. We’ve stayed the last several nights at his place, and as much as I’ve enjoyed it, I really want to spend some time in my home.
Of course, everything’s just as I left it. I wasn’t robbed, and no magical creatures broke in to mess up my house. Because that’s not a thing that happens in reality, despite what my sister used to try to tell my parents when she was little. Whenever they’d see that her room was a mess, she would look at them with her big brown eyes and say something like, “I don’t know what happened! I cleaned it like you told me to. Someone must’ve come in and made a mess while I was gone!” When pressed, she would suggest maybe it was fairies or mischievous elves, which would make my dad roll his eyes and complain about her reading too many fairy tale books.
I can’t help grinning at that memory of a tiny Gabby trying to convince everyone that fairies came in to play with her toys while she was at school or asleep. It couldn’t have been her. No, sir. Shealwaysput her toys away when she was done. It was naughty elves who wanted to get her in trouble.
“Well, tell them they have to come back and help you clean up,” Mom would always say. “Since they made the mess, they should have to clean it, don’t you think?”
Gabby would nod, dragging her feet into her room. “They never come help when I ask them to, though,” she’d say glumly.
And Mom would sigh. “Sorry, kiddo. You gotta pick up your toys, though.”
One time, after Gabby was in college, Mom and I were having coffee, and she confessed that part of her wondered if Gabbywasn’t telling the truth. “She said it so many times and with such conviction, it was hard not to believe her sometimes.” That’s apparently why she never let Dad punish Gabby for lying, and instead just insisted she clean her room, with or without the help of the mischievous creatures who were always making messes.
Dozer wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be quick. That or my trip down memory lane took longer than I realized because before I know it, he’s knocking on my door. I skip a little to get to it, pulling it open as fast as I can. “Come in,” I barely manage to get out before he’s bowling me over, kicking the door closed behind him, his mouth sealed on mine, his arms wrapped around me and carrying me along with the same speed and strength as a tsunami.
It’s no wonder he’s the guy always going after the other team when they check one of the Emeralds’ players. He’s fast, he’s focused, and he’ll slam into you like a force of nature. It’s a wonder those guys don’t just fall over and give up at the first impact. I guess they’re probably used to it, but still.
His raw power is amazing. Thrilling. Intoxicating. And the way he uses it to toss me around like I’m delicate and tiny makes me feel … cherished. Treasured.
It’s new and different for me. Peter would complain if I sat on his lap. And I never tried with anyone else because I didn’t want to feel like a fat cow again.
But Dozer? He doesn’t seem to have any trouble moving me around like I weigh nothing.
