Puck Prince (Houston Scythes Hockey #1)

32. Callie

32

CALLIE

I can’t believe that just happened. That I just did that.

I’ve never done anything like that before.

Let me rephrase: I’ve never given a guy a handjob in public before. And I have definitely never given a guy a handjob at work in an arena loaded with twenty thousand people before.

Part of me is shocked. It was reckless. And unprofessional. I’m already on parole as far as workplace romances go and that little stunt would get me booted out of the Scythes organization before Owen could say, You happened .

I chew on the corner of my mouth to try to stop from smiling, but it’s no use. Because the other part of me—the part that knows this is different—can’t stop smiling.

Owen is not Spencer.

I clean up the table and go to the stands to watch the rest of the game. Owen is unstoppable. I think he’s an idiot for going out on the ice with a possible sprain, but I cheer and clap and shout along with everyone else as the boys turn the game around.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out.

It’s an unknown number with a website link. Spam, probably. Someone trying to gain access to the dozens of dollars in my savings account.

I’m about to block the number and move on, but then I catch a familiar name in the article title.

I click on the link without breathing. The arena around me goes silent as I’m redirected to the newspaper of the university where I used to work.

“Rumors at an all-time high over whether or not Spencer Santos is guilty of sexual harassment after a staff member allegedly left the team this season. No one has come forward with any solid allegations against Santos as of yet, but…”

I think I might be sick. I think I might pass out. I think I might be sick and then pass out. But before I can sit down or run to the nearest trash can, another text comes through from the same unknown number.

UNKNOWN: Long time no see. I think it’s safe to say you need to be a little more careful, sweetheart. People are getting nosy. I suggest you keep your mouth shut.

I can’t seem to find my breath. My heart is slamming against my ribcage. It’s Spencer; I know it is. My eyes sweep around the arena, wondering if he’s here. If he’s watching me.

I left my job. I left town. I thought it was over. I tried to move on, but apparently, he hasn’t.

When my phone buzzes again, I flinch.

UNKNOWN: If you even think about saying anything to anyone, it’s going to get ugly. You’ve gotten close to people since we were together. I would hate for something bad to happen all because you couldn’t put a muzzle on the pretty little mouth of yours.

“Callie!” Kennedy’s voice makes me jump again. “Are you really on your phone while your boyfriend is killing it out there?”

I slam my phone screen against my chest and then shove it into my pocket before she can see.

My heart is lodged in my throat, but Kennedy just smirks and nudges me in the side. “I knew you were looking at pics of your man. That’s okay, everyone else in the state of Texas is, too. You're the envy of Houston.”

I don’t know what she’s talking about—I can barely think about anything at all—until I glance around the stands. There are some people fully turned away from the ice so they can look at me.

Is he here? Can he see me?

Suddenly, the crowd erupts as Owen makes the winning shot.

Everyone is looking from him on the ice to me in the stands, waiting for my reaction. I slap a smile on my stunned face as Owen high-fives his teammates before turning in my direction. His eyes lock on mine. A grin spreads across his face, and he leaps over the rails, trekking his way up to me.

I have to admit, in the middle of everything that just happened, I am relieved to see him heading in my direction.

The crowd parts as he climbs over seats with a knee he shouldn’t have even been playing on. Then he’s there, ripping his helmet off and pressing his mouth to mine. That, of course, causes all kinds of noise. But Owen doesn’t care. He takes the kiss deeper, smiling into my mouth as he does.

I hang onto him tightly, needing the contact. Needing the reassurance.

Needing to feel safe.

If Spencer is here, he can see this. And he can see that I’m not alone. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll keep him away.

Lance comes up behind Owen, grabbing him by the shoulders. “It’s decided. Pour Boys to celebrate!”

“Ugh, way to ruin a gorgeous moment.” Kennedy mutters.

“I do what I can.” Lance winks at her, furthering her disgust. “Bring your dancing shoes, Callie. You’re about to see how the Scythes party after a win.”

I smile, caught up in the moment despite what else just happened. “Sounds good.”

Owen looks at me, a grin plastered on his sweaty face. Honestly, with his eyes bright and his hair a mess from the game, he looks flat-out delicious right now. I almost regret using my hand instead of my mouth earlier…

He drops his mouth to my ear so I can hear him over the crowd. “What do you say, baby? Ready to party?”

It’s the first time he’s used a pet name.

I don’t hate it.

“Let’s do it.” He kisses me again as the crowd cheers. For the time being, I feel okay.

Pour Boys is swelling with people, from hockey players to fans to puck bunnies to regulars. It’s a much different vibe than I felt when we came here for our day. That day was quiet compared to the all-out rave it is tonight.

“The team buys rounds for everyone in the room after a game like that,” Owen explains as we stand at the bar. He has his arm around me, holding me close while talking into my ear.

“Every time you win? Seems a little over the top.”

“Not every time we win. Every time we turn a game around like that. And I don’t want to brag but, thanks to me, we spun it around hard.”

“That’s because you’re Owen Sharpe the Shark!” A boozy fan fist-bumps Owen as he walks past.

Owen laughs, clinking beer mugs with him. “You got that right!” he says before guzzling down.

I lean in with a grin of my own. “That’s funny because, before that, you were kind of the reason you guys almost lost.”

Owen almost chokes on his beer. “You did not just say that.”

“I think I did.”

“Then you’re asking for trouble,” he warns me with the same easy grin he’s had on since the puck soared into the back of the net.

“Oh, really? And what are you going to do about it?”

Owen tilts my chin up and kisses me. We get lost in each other for a moment, earning cheers and camera flashes. But I don’t really care. I’m not sure where the line is, but it’s starting to feel like it was drawn in sand. It’s washed away in the tidal wave rushing over me as the kiss goes deeper.

“Okay, you two. You’re hot for each other, we get it. Get a room.”

I smile at Kennedy’s words and pull away, licking my bottom lip with a smile.

Lance leans over her shoulder. “I think we need a round of shots.”

“Shots. Yes. Finally, one good thing came out of your face,” Kennedy agrees, flagging down a bartender.

I shake my head. “I’m good.”

“You don’t drink?” Lance asks.

“She does!” Kennedy answers for me. “But recently, she’s been kind of lame about it. Girl, this is a party! Do a Washington Apple with me.”

Lance wrinkles his nose. “Really? You’re going to ruin perfect good alcohol with a bunch of trash?”

She rolls her eyes to him in a look that could level the building. “The only trash I see in this room is you.”

“Kennedy…” I cover my mouth with my hand. When my life isn’t on fire, I need to figure out what’s with these two.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Owen steps in. “Callie doesn’t have to drink if she doesn’t want to. I'm perfectly capable of getting her drunk without booze.”

Before I can ask what he means, Owen kisses me again. His hands find their way down my back to just above my ass and he pulls me hard into him. From the contact, I realize a lot of things are hard.

Jesus, this man is ready for a round two.

“Okay, you know what? You two can suck face, but I wanna dance.” Kennedy throws both hands up and twirls.

“Funny you say that, because I was just about to ask,” Lance says, handing her a shot of tequila. “Oh, sorry, I forgot to ask if you need training wheels.”

Kennedy shoots it back without any expression whatsoever, her eyes locked hard and cold on Lance. “Do I look like a woman who needs help riding a bike?” With that, she walks towards the dance floor.

“So is that a yes or no on dancing with me?” he calls out. Kennedy continues to march away, answering with only a raised middle finger.

“Are you sure you want to get caught up in that?” Owen asks Lance, his arms still around me.

“What can I say? I like ‘em with teeth.”

“Those aren’t teeth, bro, they’re fangs! The girl’s a rattlesnake!” Owen laughs, then looks at me. “No offense to your cousin. Lovely, lovely girl.”

I hold up my hands. “None taken.”

“Speaking of dancing, though…” Owen looks down at me.

Before he can finish the question, I answer with, “God, yes.”

It’s different than at the charity ball. For one, this isn’t smooth jazz—it’s club music. Turns out the boy can dance to anything. Also turns out my backside and his front side fit together like a glove.

After a few songs that leave me sweating and breathing heavily, he spins me around and pulls me against him. While the music is still bumping, we slow our movement down to a fluid grind.

“So what’s going on with Lance and Kennedy?” I ask.

Our foreheads are pressed together. I’m pretending it’s so I can hear him, but I just don’t want to give up an inch between us.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“He’s your best friend. How do you not know?”

“She’s your cousin. How do you not know?”

I can’t help but wince. “Honestly, after I graduated, I wasn’t around for a bit. I was working for another team and was distracted all the time. It wasn’t until I started working for the Scythes that she and I got close again.”

“Makes sense.” Owen nods, his hands roaming. “Well, I’m glad to see she’s having a good time dancing, even if it’s not with Lance.”

“Yeah, Kennedy is one of those girls that will dance on her own. She knows how to enjoy herself.”

“Oh, she’s not dancing alone,” he says. “She found a new victim.”

“Why am I not surprised?” My eyes scan the dance floor until I see her. Sure enough, she’s grinding away with someone, her eyes closed as she writhes against him.

But his eyes are aimed in our direction.

On me.

And my smile fades.

As we stare at each other, my stomach bottoms out. My heart stops.

The entire room seems to jolt, and I blink, not wanting to believe it’s real. But no matter how many times I look away and back again, nothing changes.

Kennedy is dancing with Spencer Santos.