Puck & Make Up (A Rush Hockey #7)

Chapter 11

Eleven

Fox

FOX: Garbage person? (They make a lot of money)

DESSIE: I don’t do well with smells.

FOX: I hate to break it to you, sugar, but hockey players smell after games.

DESSIE: Good thing there are showers at the rinks.

FOX: *waggles brows GIF* Want to see them up close and personal?

DESSIE: The showers or the hockey players.

FOX: There’s only ONE hockey player you’re going to see up close and personal.

DESSIE: Does this mean that you’ve arrived at your new house?

FOX: I’m surrounded by far too many boxes.

DESSIE: Moving sucks.

FOX: And here I thought you were going to offer to help.

DESSIE: I have a very important job interview all of a sudden.

FOX: Where?

DESSIE: My bed.

FOX: Rude.

DESSIE: Fox?

FOX: Yeah?

DESSIE: I’ll be down tomorrow to hang with Rosie and Bailey, do you want me to stop by?

FOX: Yes.

DESSIE: You sure?

FOX: Do I need to remind you about our conversation from last night?

DESSIE: No.

DESSIE: I’ll be there around five.

DESSIE: Nice goal, princess.

FOX: Just because it bounced off my ass and into the net doesn’t make it count any less. How’d you even watch the game, anyway? It’s not televised.

DESSIE: The team was streaming it on social media. I didn’t see the whole thing, but I saw enough.

FOX: Great.

DESSIE: Hey. I think it should have counted for twice as much considering it hit off both cheeks.

FOX: Funny.

FOX: Still, gonna let the stats guy know.

DESSIE: I expect payment for my services in the form of cookies.

FOX: Noted. Next time you come down.

DESSIE: Which is code for you having more boxes for me to unpack.

FOX: Maybe.

FOX: So, did Roger let you back into the bar?

DESSIE: Only to have a drink. Though, he did let me show him how to run the inventory system. Or attempt to anyway. I have the feeling it’s going to require some serious work getting it back into shape before long.

FOX: Maybe that’s your way back on the payroll?

DESSIE: Sabotage? I like the way you think.

DESSIE: But in reality, I’m just back on Boomer Tech support. But we cleared the air, and he agreed to let me help out as long as I promise to keep looking for—his words: a real job.

FOX: Progress then.

DESSIE: In everything except figuring out what I actually want to do with this next chapter of my life.

FOX: I’ve got more ideas.

DESSIE: More time to troll the internet for ideas that will make me crazy, you mean?

FOX: Now you’re getting it, sugar. And so…speaking of your IT skills—did you ever think about putting those to use in other ways?

DESSIE: Um…is this some sort of weird proposition that’s going to have me selling feet pics?

FOX: Well, now that you mention it…

DESSIE: Good night, Fox.

DESSIE: But no, I don’t think IT is my future.

FOX: I’ll keep looking.

FOX: Night, sugar.

FOX: Marine biologist.

DESSIE: I hate to continue to be the Negative Nelly, but I get seasick.

FOX: *sigh*

DESSIE: I’m hopeless.

FOX: We’ll figure it out.

DESSIE: Right now I want to talk about anything that isn’t me and my empty future.

FOX: Are you coming down soon?

DESSIE: In a couple of days.

DESSIE: Did you talk to Rosie?

FOX: About Annie?

DESSIE: Yeah.

FOX: Yeah.

DESSIE: And?

FOX: And it’s still weird, but it’s Rosie. You know she won’t hold it against me. It’s just…another fucked up thing courtesy of the Donovan clan.

FOX: Plus, she was already family. The only difference is that we know we share some genes.

DESSIE: How mature of you both.

FOX: Don’t worry. I’m still looking for that frog to hide in your desk.

DESSIE: How was practice?

FOX: Pucks and sticks and my teammates trying to figure out why I’m smiling like an idiot all the time.

DESSIE: Well…

FOX: Well what?

DESSIE: Did they figure it out?

FOX: We’re all spending a ton of time in close contact with little to keep us busy, what do you think, sugar?

DESSIE: That hockey players gossip worse than the citizens of River’s Bend.

FOX: Bingo.

FOX: They know it’s a woman and they want to meet you. Especially Smitty.

DESSIE: That’s…terrifying.

FOX: Apparently he dreams of being a matchmaker.

DESSIE: Also terrifying.

FOX: I told him I’m already matched up.

DESSIE: …

FOX: Too much?

DESSIE: I…

DESSIE: For once, I think that it might not be enough.

FOX: Fuck.

DESSIE: What?

FOX: I wish it was a five minute drive away so I could come over and kiss you for that.

DESSIE: Good.

FOX: It’s good I’m getting blue balls from missing you?

DESSIE: It’s good because it means you still want me to come down tomorrow.

FOX: I want you to come down forever.

DESSIE: …

FOX: Too much?

DESSIE: Maybe.

DESSIE: But I think…I like it.

DESSIE: Good luck at the preseason game.

DESSIE: See you tomorrow.

DESSIE: Sorry the game went to hell.

FOX: It happens sometimes.

DESSIE: I’m still sorry. How’s the eye?

FOX: Feels like I got into a fight.

DESSIE: Because you did?

FOX: There’s that.

DESSIE: It looked like it hurt.

FOX: Lucky for me, I’ve got a hard head.

DESSIE: Still looks like it hurt.

FOX: I’m fine, sugar. But it’s cute that you’re worried.

DESSIE: I’m not worried.

DESSIE: You’ve got ice on it, though?

FOX: *sends pic of ice-covered face*

FOX: Now get some rest, sugar. I’ll see you tomorrow when I get home?

DESSIE: What time does the plane land?

FOX: Three.

DESSIE: Then five or so? I promised Bailey that I’d hang out for a bit.

FOX: Anything you want, sugar lips.

DESSIE: That’s a dangerous thing to say.

FOX: Doesn’t make it any less true.

FOX: And I’m glad you’ve been hanging out with your friends.

DESSIE: We’re brainstorming for jobs.

DESSIE: And, for the record, no one has suggested anything to do with poles.

FOX: Amateurs.

DESSIE: Good night. Safe travels.

FOX: Night, sugar.

I’m tempted to go by Bailey’s on my way home from the rink.

But I’m tired, am overdue for a shower—no stinky hockey players for my girl—and then I need to make sure my place isn’t a disaster for when Dessie comes over.

Yeah, plane rides are so much better than the buses we spent hours on when I was playing with the Rush, but even in the big leagues, we still have to get to and from the airport. So…more bus rides, just shorter ones.

Now I’m driving back to my house and resisting the urge to get my fill of Dessie. Texting isn’t nearly enough, not now that I’ve given in to my need for her.

Not now that I’m determined to make her mine.

I need to touch her, to smell her, to feel the silk of her hair, her skin.

To taste her.

But…progress.

So, in an effort to continue with Plan Patience, I drive straight to my house.

I’m exhausted, my back aches from sitting on the plane, from the physical game the night before. And I have a fucking black eye.

Ugh.

Am I grumpy when I have no reason to be?

Yes.

But am I going to do anything about that?

Nope.

I’ll be surly through a long hot shower, shoving some food in my mouth, and then waiting for her to show up.

Then I’ll be in a better mood.

There. Plan. Go.

But it’s not my plan for very long, I realize as I pull into my driveway, my heart skipping a beat when I see who’s sitting on my front porch.

I shove the transmission into park, turn off the engine, and fly out of my driver’s side door almost before I realize I’ve moved.

Not patient.

Very not patient.

Very not according to plan.

Thankfully, Dessie seems as impatient as me. She runs down the walkway, the bags in her hands swinging, her smile wide and beautiful enough to make my heart skip a beat.

At least until she all but skids to a stop in front of me, her expression sobering.

I close the rest of the distance between us, cup her jaw. “What’s up, sugar?”

“Is this—?” She pauses, biting her lip.

“Is this what?”

Her eyes slip from mine. “Is this okay?” she asks softly. “Me surprising you like this?”

I inhale, stepping forward and cupping her face in my cheeks. “You’re always welcome.”

“Even though I didn’t tell you I was coming?”

“This is the best surprise ever,” I tell her, holding her gaze for long enough that she knows I mean it. “Now,” I say, nudging her toward my open garage. “Did you finish with Bailey early? Or was that just to throw me off your scent?”

More nibbling. “There wasn’t an order.” A beat. “But there still wasn’t a discussion about poles.”

I smile because she’s funny, but it’s my heart that’s in trouble. It pounds as I ask, “So you just wanted to see me?”

Pink on her cheeks, but her voice is steady. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Nope.” I step back and fist pump. “That Fox Brown charm is finally growing on you.”

“Like a fungus,” she quips.

I chuckle then take the bags from her hands, gripping them in one of mine, and all but herding her into the garage.

No escaping. Not now.

“What have you got in these, anyway?” I tease. “Bricks?”

A glance down shows her flush spreading. “Um, no,” she whispers. “I just?—”

When she doesn’t go on, I open the door to the house and usher her into my mud room. “You just what , sugar lips?”

Her eyes meet mine for a heartbeat. “Well, I thought”—the pink turns to bright red—“I just…you’ve been helping me with my whole thing.” She waves her hand.

I lift my brows in question.

“Helping me figure out my next steps,” she explains. “And bringing me dinner and coffee and cookies and I just…”

I close the door, draw us down the hall while I wait for her to answer, setting the bags on the kitchen counter.

“Well, I just thought maybe I could cook for you, and we could…” She takes a deep breath and reaches into one of the totes. “Well, I thought I could return the favor by cooking you chicken parmesan before we watch this.”

She pulls her hand out with a flourish…

And everything inside me freezes.