Puck Princess (Houston Scythes Hockey #2)

17. Callie

17

CALLIE

The last time I was on a plane with the guys, I thought I was going to puke. I was in the first trimester of pregnancy and the simple act of breathing made me want to barf, so shooting myself into the stratosphere was clearly not the vibe.

Now, I still feel like I’m going to puke, but it’s because I turned to adjust my travel pillow and saw Spencer two rows back, watching me between the seats like a hungry lion on a nature documentary. I can’t even zone out with the in-flight entertainment without him seeing what’s on my screen.

It has me so antsy I want to jump out the window.

But I can’t because Lance is sitting by the window. He called dibs the second we stepped on the plane. Owen did the same for the aisle so he can stretch his obscenely long legs. Meanwhile, I—Dr. Pipsqueak, Lance lovingly dubbed me—got wedged between them in the middle.

At least Owen is in high spirits. He’s sipping on a rum and Coke and joking around with the guys.

“They’re called the Sea Urchins, for Christ’s sake. Obviously, we are going to scrape them across the ice.” Dax must truly believe that because he is already three drinks deep and we just hit cruising altitude.

“I wouldn’t assume they suck just because they’re named after ocean hedgehogs.” Heath is kneeling in the row in front of us, looking back over the top of the seat. His words are also slurring.

How these boys drink like fish and then turn around and win hockey games is beyond me.

“No, see, that would be a cool name. The Hedgehogs. But The Sea Urchins? They’re just asking to have their asses handed to them.”

All the guys laugh, including Owen. He looks at me, and I force a smile. He puts his arm around me, and all I can think is that Spencer is watching us .

The way he was looking at me in the training room when I was talking to Lance—the way he acts every time I see him—it’s flat out territorial. I don’t want to poke that rabid bear.

Owen leans in for a kiss. I give him a small peck and pull away.

He pulls me closer, tracing his lips across my jaw. “Are you teasing me again, Cal? You were right,” he whispers. “I might like it.”

He kisses me again, running his thumb along my jaw to tilt my head back, taking me deeper. I love the feel of his mouth against mine, and I don’t want to stop. But I know we should.

Awkwardly, I pull back, leaving him and his hungry tongue hanging.

“What gives?” he whispers.

I blush, looking around. “I guess I’m just a little shy with the PDA.”

Owen spits out a laugh. “Since when?”

Since my psycho ex might take you tongue fucking me on a plane as a reason to stake some claim.

“It seems like we are always in the limelight. I want to lay low for a while.”

Owen’s face softens with a hint of hurt. “You never cared before when we were fake dating.”

“That was for show.” Even as I say the words, I know they get to him. It’s a shitty thing to say, but I can literally feel Spencer’s gaze burning through the seats.

“You’ll make out with me when there’s an agenda but not when we’re together?”

His words make my eyes widen. I look around to see if anyone heard him, but most of the guys are just horsing around. Lance has earbuds in, already watching a Tom Cruise movie on his phone.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean?” His words hold no venom, just curiosity.

“I don’t know. First we were together . And then we were broken up. And now we’re…” I don’t want to say it.

Owen doesn’t have the same issue. “Gifting each other mutual orgasms on a daily basis?”

I flush. “Yeah. And I guess I’m just a little confused about what we are. That’s all.”

“Do you really think it’s complicated?” he asks, keeping his voice respectfully low. “We’re together, Callie.”

I assumed we were, but we never gave it an actual label.

“Have I not made it obvious how much I care for you? For our baby?” He puts his hand over mine. “I thought I made it obvious enough. But if I didn’t, I can change that. I don’t want there to be a single question in your pretty little mind.”

He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling.

“What are you going to do?” I ask, not sure if I trust the mischievous smirk on his lips.

“You’ll see.”

I try to look at his phone, but he pulls it away. “No, no. It’s going to be a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.” I try reaching for the phone again, but he holds it in the aisle, out of my grasp.

“Well, you’re going to love this one. Just trust me, Callie. In a few hours, you will never question what you mean to me again.”

Okay, I don’t trust that, either. But I also can’t deny that his words are making my heart flutter like a dozen butterflies are trapped in my chest. I settle into my chair, leaning into him with a smile on my lips.

Spencer who?

When we get to the hotel, the guys all go down to the bar. I’m exhausted from the flight and just want to take a shower. Owen decides to stay with the guys, but says I should go up to my room and relax. He gives me a quick kiss, and while I know Spencer is probably watching from whatever corner he’s lurking in, I kiss Owen anyway.

I take the elevator to the top floor, looking again at the room key number. No one else from the team seems to be on this floor. As I walk down the hall, counting doors, I realize something.

These are all suites.

For a moment, I wonder if there was a mistake. But when I get to my room, there is a note on the door. I grab it, assuming the worst. Thinking back to ominously scribbled threats.

But when I open it, I let my lungs deflate.

I know you’d rather be at home, but a suite isn’t a bad alternative. Hope the Jacuzzi tub makes up for it. -Miriam

I smile and make a mental note to thank her.

I walk inside and consider my breath stolen. The floor-to-ceiling windows show the city in all its glory, including a view of the Golden Gate Bridge. The giant bed has a fluffy comforter and recessed lighting in the headboard. There’s a coffee bar, a wine fridge, a chaise lounge and a real walk-in closet. But the bathroom is where the magic is at.

Everything is marble—the counters, the flooring and the shower. In the corner is a giant tub.

“Fuck me…” I let out. I will definitely have to use that later.

I slip out of my shoes and make my way over to the bed, flopping down on it. I pull my phone out to text Kennedy so I can brag, but I stop when I see a white box with a black satin ribbon on the corner of the bed.

I pull it closer to me, mumbling, “Seriously, Miriam, this is too much.”

But when I open the tiny note attached to the box, I realize it’s not from Miriam.

It’s time you know just what you mean to me, Callie Coleman. Be ready for dinner at 8. -Owen.

My heart does another dance, and I bite my lip with a giddy smile. Gingerly—because it’s just so pretty, and honestly, I’ve never been spoiled like this—I untie the ribbon and open the box.

Inside is a yellow dress. It’s simple, but elegant. There’s also a pair of matching heels and a necklace with a solitaire diamond.

Oh my god…

I take a picture and text Kennedy.

Callie: Remember the dress from How to Lose a Guy?

Kennedy: Omg… You would parade around San Fran looking like Kate Hudson. I’m so jealous.

I pull the dress out and hold it up in the full-length mirror. Then I set it aside, unable to stop smiling as I make my way to the bathroom.

I guess I’m going to be using that tub sooner than I thought.

“You look incredible,” Owen says when I open the door.

I took a long bubble bath before beginning the arduous process of scrubbing, shaving, and lotioning any and everything he might see, touch, or taste tonight. I wanted him to be intoxicated by me.

Judging by the way his eyes are doing more laps than Nascar, I think I did a good job.

“You have good taste.” I step out of my room in the dress and heels.

“In women or dresses?”

“Both.” I press a hand to his firm chest. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Owen is in a sleek black suit. It’s fitted and simple and perfect. He holds out his arm, and I hook mine around it.

It feels like we are going to prom. It feels like a dream.

It feels like we are real…

A blacked out Escalade arrives as we step through the front doors of the hotel, and we are whisked to The Exchange, a wine bar and steakhouse on the main strip.

With romantically dim lighting, dinner by reservation, and only a handful of tables in each section, it’s quaint. Too quaint for anyone to loiter in the corners just to get a picture of Owen Sharpe and his baby momma.

Suddenly, I realize the entire restaurant is empty.

“Did they just open?”

“No.” Owen looks uniquely proud of himself. “I reserved the entire place for the next three hours.”

I gasp. “Owen…”

“Don’t you dare say I’m doing too much,” he warns me, suddenly serious. “I’m not. You’re worth all of it and more, Callie. I love showing you off, but that’s not all this is for me. Whether we’re in the middle of a crowd or alone in my apartment, I want you just the same. That’s all I want you to know.”

I don’t tell him he’s doing too much, but only because my throat is too tight to say much of anything.

I’ve never been taken care of like this before. No one has ever gone to so much trouble to treat me, and I don’t even know what to say.

The waiter takes us to a table in the corner overlooking the labyrinth of city streets below, and I actually pinch myself. “I can’t believe this is real.”

Owen takes my hand in the center of the table, his thumb running over my knuckles. “That means I’m not doing this often enough.”

“No. I mean, this is amazing, but…” I choose my words carefully, not wanting to stick my foot in my mouth like I did on the plane. “I like being at home with you, Owen. I like watching hockey on the couch and eating take out and falling asleep in our bed. I like doing normal things with you.”

The smile that stretches across his face breaks my heart and pieces it back together. “I like doing normal things with you, too. But you’re extraordinary, Callie. Tonight, let me give you a night worthy of you.”

Together, with no one around, we enjoy a charcuterie board and several tapas, including marinated steak with roasted tomatoes and chimichurri. Owen hands me the dessert list and tells me to pick anything I want.

But when it comes time to order my lemon curd custard and a triple-chocolate chocolate cake, Owen asks the waiter to bring us dessert on the roof.

“The roof?” I ask, letting him take my hand and pull me from my chair. “What’s on the roof?”

“Another surprise.”

Owen guides me out the door and over to a balcony. We walk through a rooftop garden and around to a private nook in the corner. There’s a deep, comfy couch complete with blankets and pillows and candles. In front of it is a projector screen.

“What are we doing?” I ask, taking it all in.

“I mean it’s not a TV screen in an apartment and these aren’t hockey jerseys and takeout, but I thought we could do what all couples do on a first date and watch a movie.”

I turn into him, my hands smoothing down his chest. He’s a vision in this soft lighting, the shadows carving him from marble. “Owen Sharpe, you are something else.”

“And you, Callie Coleman, are amazing.” He lowers me onto the couch and settles me into his side. “Now, let’s pretend to watch this movie.”

Ten minutes later, we’re not even pretending.

The movie is playing—though what we are watching, I have no idea—but Owen’s hands are wandering under my dress while he suckles on my neck.

I playfully push him away when his hand creeps high on my thigh. “Someone is going to see us.”

“Like people in airplanes? Callie, there’s no one around. But—” He sighs. “You’re right. We should get a room.” He takes my lower lip between his teeth, stoking a fire directly between my legs. “We need four walls and a ceiling to contain the noises I plan to draw out of you.”

I’m almost delirious with how much I want him. “What about eight walls, a private balcony, and a jacuzzi tub?”

He arches a brow, and I explain, “Miriam got me the suite.”

“God bless Miriam.”

When I thank Miriam for the room, I won’t tell her the ways we defiled the king-sized bed or how sturdy the mini bar is after Owen propped me against it and devoured me as a snack. I also probably won’t mention that the tub is big enough for a big hockey player to be straddled by his girlfriend and ridden to the point they are both so exhausted, they almost drown beneath the bubbles.

But I will forever remember the way it felt to be damp from the tub as Owen spread me across the bed, his eyes embracing mind with every touch and movement. I’ll never forget the way it felt to have him fill me while his fingers tangled with mine above our heads. I’ll remember the way he hovered over my body, his hands curled around my stomach, absolute joy in his eyes while he spoke to our child. And until the day I die, I’ll remember the look of love he had for me and our future together.