Puck Princess (Houston Scythes Hockey #2)

10. Callie

10

CALLIE

“Do me a favor,” Owen says from across the tiny table. “Stop smiling at me.”

I would, but it’s not physically possible. Somehow, in the course of twenty-four hours, I went from being a jobless, boyfriendless mother-to-be to sitting on the patio of some hip brunch place called Kounter with my boyfriend. We’d usually both be at work today, but Uncle Randy gave me a few days off to rejuvenate before I come back full-time. Truthfully, I think he’s trying to let the drama die down a bit. The team has been distracted enough, and now they’re playing a man down. He doesn’t want me causing a scene.

Plus, it gives me two days to figure out how I’m going to be in the same zip code as Spencer Santos.

That thought almost wipes the smile off my face, but I keep it plastered on. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I don’t think I will ever get used to watching you drink a mimosa.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I can be fancy.”

“Mmhmm.”

“You don’t think so?” he asks, picking up the champagne flute with his pinky out.

“I think you’ve eyeballed the beer menu about eight times in the last five minutes. And also, put your pinky away. No one does that.” I swat at his hand, and he catches mine deftly, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

It’s been nice ever since things calmed down. Owen and I are officially together. We squared everything away with HR, and even the paparazzi seem to have better things to do lately. I’d go as far as to say life is good.

Obviously, Miles is still out there somewhere, so Owen still has security on Summer. He doesn’t trust the restraining order Summer took out on Miles, and I don’t, either. A flimsy piece of paper won’t stop Miles if he wants to get to her. But Summer is strong-willed and determined to be okay. We have that in common.

“You’re sounding awfully unappreciative for a woman whose boyfriend takes her on lakefront brunch dates on days he should be doing drills for a game.” Owen breaks into my thoughts with a sexy tone and sly smile.

“The only reason you’re not doing drills is because my uncle feels guilty for firing me,” I remind him. “I think you should be the appreciative one.”

He wags a brow. “I have plans to appreciate you thoroughly later.”

I’m flushed with thoughts very inappropriate for brunch, and based on the way the people at the table next to us can’t stop looking over, I know they’re hearing every word of this.

But I don’t really care. Belonging to him feels pretty damn good. I’d be lying if I said I don’t notice the jealous looks I get everywhere we go.

“You are insane.”

He kisses my fingertips again, his blue-green eyes holding mine. “Only for you.”

An hour later, we’re hardly through the front door when he tosses his keys in the bowl (and misses) because we’re too busy trying to figure out how to rip each other’s clothes off without pulling our mouths off each other. It’s a messy, hurried, frenzy of kissing and laughing and gasping and tripping over each other as we leave a trail of clothes on the way to the bedroom.

Mostly my clothes, I notice as we bounce off the hallway walls.

“Why is it that I’m completely naked and you’re just unzipped?” I ask. “Where is the justice in that?”

“I know what I want, and you’re easily distracted.” He illustrated the point by kissing and nibbling me everywhere. “I like to be able to see you. All of you.”

“I like to see you, too. You’re kind of alright looking with that hockey body and all.”

Owen tugs his shirt off in one smooth pull. “Better?”

I drag my hands down his defined abs and literally purr. “Absolutely.”

“Good. Now stop bitching and say my name.”

He drops to his knees and grips my thighs, yanking me to him. I almost fall over, but he catches me with his mouth. And I moan.

“Owen…”

“Good girl,” he murmurs into me.

After he proceeds to suck the soul from my body—a pastime that never gets old—he carries me to our bed.

“This is the only place I want to be.” The words come out breathless, timed to the movement of his hips against mine. He fills me in long, devastating strokes. “I’m always thinking about coming home to you, Callie.”

Coming home to Owen.

That’s what these last few days have been. Finally, after a lifetime of feeling like I don’t quite fit, I feel like I’m home.

I come with a sharp cry, and Owen groans against my neck. He spills into me until we’re both in a puddle of tingly nerves and satisfaction, relaxing into the bed.

But just as I think I could probably fall asleep—the second trimester seems to be the sleepy trimester—Owen hops up.

“Nope. No falling asleep. We have plans.” He kisses me before walking to the bathroom to turn on the shower.

“I can’t go another round, Owen,” I mumble into the pillow. “Not in the shower. I don’t even think I can stand. You’d have to carry me.”

His fingers trail down my bare thigh. “Fuck, Cal… Don’t tempt me. We’re already running late as it is.”

I peek one eye open. “Plans? I’m supposed to be relaxing and having fun.”

“I never said it wasn’t going to be fun. But you should probably get dressed. We’re going to have company in about—” he looks at his watch. “—twenty-five minutes.”

I bolt up. “What? Who?”

Owen just laughs, stepping into the shower. “Just a handful of people from the arena.”

“My handful or yours? Those are very different sized handfuls.”

“It’s just some friends.”

“Owen!” I rush over to the closet, hoping I have something clean to wear. After a cursory glance at the empty closet, I’m going to have to throw on leggings and one of Owen’s shirts. I’m still straddling two apartments right now—three, if you count the one I am supposed to be moving into.

I hustle into the bathroom to at least check my hair before the mirror fogs up. “Here we are just having casual sex and there’s a whole hockey team of people coming over.”

Owen’s head pops out of the shower. “Is that how you think I fuck you? Casually?”

“You know what I mean.” I roll my eyes, running my fingers through my hair.

“I don’t know if I do. I might have to pull you in here with me and offer some clarity. Because I am anything but casual in the sack.”

He reaches for me, but I dodge and dart back into the bedroom with a smile on my face.

Good thing, too. Not five minutes later, there’s a knock at the door.

Owen is behind me, dressed in jeans and a jersey, his hair still damp and a smirk on his face. How men can put themselves together like that in under ten minutes is infuriating.

I hear the calamity in the hallway before I even open it. “Not a handful,” I mutter to him under my breath before I pull the door open.

My hostess smile waves when I see the crowd standing outside the door.

Kennedy bursts in uninvited, followed by Summer, Dax, Heath, Lachlan, Kason, and the retinue of women they’re dating. Lance brings up the rear, hugging me as he walks in. They’re all carrying food.

“Your face tells me you weren’t expecting any of us,” Kennedy says, setting a tray of obviously store bought treats on the table. I’m sure there’s a Little Debbie’s box in her recycling bin right now.

“What she means is, you look lovely, Callie. It’s great to see you,” Lance offers.

“Did I ask for interpretation, Craven? No. Then kindly zip it.”

“Owen,” I look over at him with wide eyes and a smile. “What is all this?”

“Don’t kill my brother,” Summer cuts in. “This was actually our idea.”

“We all felt kind of shitty for not checking in on you,” Dax says, snagging a wing off one of the plates. Owen’s table has literally turned into a buffet, and I can’t say I’m upset about it.

“We also miss you. A lot.” Heath claps his hands together in prayer. “Please come back.”

Tears prick my eyes. “This is… You guys, this is… You’re amazing.”

“Uh oh. Flood gate alert. We’re making the pregnant lady cry,” Kennedy jokes, but I just hug her.

“I’m not going to cry. Much,” I clarify, swiping at my eyes. “But I feel like I should apologize to all of you . I know losing Miles really messed up your season.”

Dax shakes his head. “Don’t apologize for that.”

“He got what was coming to him,” Lance agrees. “A lot of us have known for a while that he wasn’t the kind of guy he pretended to be. We just didn’t realize he was this bad. We should’ve seen the signs and protected you girls before anyone got hurt.”

Summer hugs Lance, thanking him quietly. I look at Kennedy, and her face is softer than usual. Her usual spiky guard is lowered for a few seconds before she snaps it back into place.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Dax goes on. “What matters is Solomon got canned from the team and the new draft pick isn’t like any rookie I’ve ever seen.”

“I could’ve told you that the first time he laced up.” Lachlan shakes his head, taking a swig of beer. “He’s good.”

Heath Jabs Owen in the elbow. “Better watch out, O. He might be good enough to replace you.”

I look up at Owen. Before I can ask who they’re talking about, Owen drapes his arm over my shoulders. “Like you said, he’s The New Kid. He’ll learn his place on the team—far, far beneath me—just like all of you have.”

“And just like that, he’s back to his cocky self,” Summer snorts, bouncing Nicky on her hip.

As the night carries on—everyone hanging out, laughing and enjoying themselves—I keep my gaze on Owen as he works the room. He may be a little cocky, but he deserves to be. He’s an amazing leader. And it’s obvious how much everyone looks up to him.

All the traits that make him an incredible teammate and boyfriend will make him the world’s best father. This whole thing might have been one unplanned, poorly thought out accident, but I don’t have any regrets. Not as far as Owen is concerned.

When it gets late, everyone helps clean up and says their goodbyes.

Owen kisses Nicky on the head and pulls Summer into a hug. Even Kennedy gives Owen’s neck a quick squeeze. “See you around, neighbor.”

Lance falls into step with her. “Walk you to your door?”

Kennedy’s smile drains away. “You’re not cute.”

“Not even a little?”

Kennedy ignores him completely and waves back at us before unlocking her own door. “Good night, guys!”

Kennedy slams her door shut, and Lance gives a sheepish wave before heading down the stairs.

“What is it with those two?” Owen asks as we step back into the now-quiet apartment.

“Beats me. Kennedy insists there’s nothing going on.”

“Um, there’s a whole volcano of something going on.”

He’s not wrong, but right now, I don’t care about Kennedy or Lance or anyone else, for that matter. I reach for Owen’s jersey and tug him into me.

“Oh, hello…” His voice is low and husky.

I kiss him.

“What was that for?” he asks after we pull away.

“Everything.”

As he puts his arms around me, kissing me against the wall, I know one thing for certain: Owen Sharpe is not replaceable. And anyone who tries is going to get a run for their money.