Page 80 of The Pucker and the Princess
“Yeah,” Peter puts in, apparently feeling the need to insert himself where he is very much not wanted. “Thanks for coming, man. Sorry I didn’t see your name on the guest list. What is it you do?”
Marissa rolls her lips between her teeth, stifling either a laugh or a smile, or maybe both. “Uh, Peter doesn’t follow sports much,” she says like it’s an aside only for me, but her voice is pitched so Peter hears her perfectly.
“Really? Not even football?” I ask.
Peter’s brows draw together, and he looks between Marissa and me again. “Uh, do you have something to do with football? Sorry, I don’t recognize your name …”
Still grinning, but more like a hyena about to pounce, I shake my head. “Nah, man. Not football. Hockey.”
He blinks but doesn’t appear to be phased by my pronouncement. “Oh? Are you any good?”
Marissa loses the fight to stifle her laughter, a snort escaping, and she slaps a hand over her mouth.
I don’t bother covering my own chuckle. “Some people think so.”
Peter’s smile turns arrogant and condescending. “Like who?”
“Well, my coaches as a kid thought I showed a lot of promise.” Peter snorts, and my grin grows wider. “So did my Junior league coaches when I played in high school. Getting drafted to the big show probably clinched it, though. I play for the Seattle Emeralds.”
It takes a second for him to connect the dots, but when he finally does, it’s priceless. “Oh, wow,” he eventually says. “That’s, uh, wow. Good for you. That’s really?—”
He keeps talking, but I’m bored of his blabbing already, and I barely even met the guy. With one last wolfish grin, I give him a little salute and steer Marissa away.
She cranes her neck, looking behind us. “That was kinda rude,” she whispers.
I arch an eyebrow at her. “So? He wasn’t being rude?”
Tilting her head back and forth, she breaks into a grin. “He was being a huge dick.”
“Which is probably the only kind of huge dick he has going for him,” I murmur, and she lets out the start of a cackle, once again slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle it. Grinning, I shake my head. “Dude’s got little dick energy written all over him. No wonder you dreaded seeing him again. What a pompous douche. And what right does he have to be so condescending anyway? He’s a mechanic.” When she raises her eyebrows, I hold up my free hand. “No shade on mechanics. You and I both know I couldn’t do that job. But it’s not exactly the type of career you expect someone to be that much of an arrogant asshole about.Doctors? Yes. Lawyers? Sure. CEOs? Absolutely. Mechanics?” I shake my head. “They’re usually pretty cool. What happened to that guy?”
She shrugs and shakes her head. “I’m not sure. He wasn’t always like that, but I guess being tapped as Dad’s heir-apparent after Lance decided not to come home gave him an inflated sense of self-importance.” She chews on her lower lip for a second before continuing. “I think it was added to by the fact that Dad clearly preferred him over me, and when he let me help in the shop, he got a kick out of the sense of power he held by controlling my access to the thing I wanted to do.”
“God, that’s fucked up,” I breathe. Because yikes.
Meeting my eyes again, she gives me a wan smile. “I don’t think I’d actually articulated that before, even to myself.”
I give her a second to finish processing these new revelations, staying quiet until she meets my eyes again.
Clearing my throat, I lean in close so I can pitch my voice low. “I hope I didn’t overstep by coming here. You said you wished?—”
“God, no,” she interrupts. “You didn’t overstep at all. I did wish you could be here. I just didn’t expect you to make that wish come true.”
Pulling her in front of me, I gather her close. “I’ll always make your wishes come true,” I murmur. “As much as I can, anyway.”
She grins at me, looking happier and more relaxed than when she was talking to that tool bag, and I dip my head for a real kiss. God, it feels good to have her in my arms again.
A throat clears off to the side, and Marissa startles, breaking off the kiss and turning to face the newcomer.
It’s a classy-looking short woman in flowing black pants and a matching top with her silver hair shot through with darker steel cut in a chin-length bob. She curves her lips in the fakest smile I’ve ever seen. “Marissa, dear. Would you like to introduce me to your friend?” There’s the slightest bit of hesitation before the word “friend,” which only serves to emphasize her word choice.
Marissa’s chewing on the inside of her cheek in an effort to hide her smile. “Of course. Mom, this is Dozer. My boyfriend. Dozer, this is my mom, Elizabeth Kane.”
I release Marissa so she can stand next to me and extend out a hand for Marissa’s mom to shake, giving her my most charming smile. “Ma’am. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
She doesn’t look terribly impressed with me, but she takes my hand and shakes it slowly. “I’ve heard about you,” she says, giving Marissa a meaningful glance. “I guess I hadn’t realized things had … progressed.”
“It’s recent,” Marissa puts in before I can respond. “I was planning on telling you, but I didn’t want to distract from all the festivities.”
