Puck Princess (Houston Scythes Hockey #2)

Bonus Epilogue Callie

“Alexa, play ‘Fearless’ by Taylor Swift,” Kennedy shouts at the Echo Dot in the corner of our getting ready room.

“You would pick this song.”

She just smiles, patting down each and every sequin on my mermaid cut wedding gown while I apply a layer of lipstick, the shade being, obviously, Fearless red.

Kennedy steps back, her eyes sparkling as she stares at me in the mirror. “God, you look sexy as fuck.”

I do look pretty good.

It’s been a year since Victoria was born, and even though I don’t have the body I did before—breastfeeding forever changes a woman, but also, hello, hips—I feel really good about myself right now. I feel really good, in general.

“Owen is going to have to change his pants when he sees you.”

“Can we not talk about what goes on in my brother’s pants while I’m in the room, please and thank you?” Summer is holding bouquet and, despite Kennedy’s crude comment, she has a smile on her face.

“You look beautiful.”

“I look beautiful? Girl, look at you.” She shakes her head. “My brother is a lucky man. Too lucky. I’m not sure he deserves all of this. It’s never too late to change your mind.”

I laugh because she is so obviously kidding. Each and every day I wake up next to Owen, I’m overwhelmed by how much I don’t deserve him.

I step off the little pedestal in front of the mirror and over to the Pack ‘N Play where Victoria is rolling around in her yellow dress—a mini version of what the bridesmaids are wearing. “I may be the bride, but this little girl is the start of the show.”

“She is pretty dang cute,” Kennedy agrees, fixing her own hair for the fifth time. “And speaking of cute, where is?—”

The door bangs open and Nicky marches in on wobbling legs.

“Hey, no boys allowed!” Summer fake yells at him. Nicky just laughs, a bubbly sound that fills the room with smiles and my heart with joy.

“I can’t believe he’s walking already,” I say.”

Summer scoops him up and plants a kiss on his chubby cheek. The older he gets, the more he looks like Owen. “He’s been walking since he was ten months old! It’s like he has somewhere to be.”

“Or soccer to play.” A thickly-accented male voice comes from the doorway as Summer’s boyfriend stands there, his forearm braced against the frame as his eyes scrape over Summer in a way that does not seem suitable for me to see.

“No boys allowed goes for you, too.” Summer pops a sassy hip out, folding her arms. But she can’t help but beam back at him. Understandably so. Summer’s boyfriend is a dish, if I do say so myself.

And considering I’m the one who swiped right on him on her behalf and vetted him thoroughly before their first date, I do say so myself. I spent many hours trapped in a nursing chair in those first few months, so I had nothing better to do.

Their first date was a double date with me and Owen, which Summer thought was way too overprotective, but she also didn’t argue.

He didn’t love that Emilio is a soccer player—pot, meet kettle. But he did love that he went to college in Connecticut for sports medicine before going pro. Now, he works on the side with disadvantaged youths, building after school programs for them.

Kennedy and I loved that he treats her like royalty and looks like Oscar Issac.

“Ven aqui y dime eso a la cara.” The words roll off his tongue like cursive and both Kennedy and I melt accordingly.

“What did he say?” I whisper to Kennedy.

“I have no fucking clue, but he could literally say ‘I need to take a dump’ in Spanish, and I’d say ‘yes, daddy’ all not long.”

I stifle a snort.

Whatever he said, Summer seems to approve. She’s been learning Spanish since she met him. She’s also been teaching it to the kids, which will be interesting. Owen and I hired her to be Victoria’s nanny. Between that and the money Miles has to pump out in child support every month, she’s doing really well for herself. Add her new sugar daddy to that, and I think she might just get a happily ever after.

“Knock-knock.” Lance’s voice sounds out around the room. “Are the ladies decent?”

“We’re good,” Summer says, her arms wrapped around Emilio’s neck as Nicky does figure eights around their legs.

“We’re decent, but what do you want?” Kennedy snaps, tucking my veil into place.

“Sorry, I was talking to the ladies. Not the vipers.” Lance gives her a forced smile and turns to me. Is the bride ready to go?”

Suddenly, my stomach flips.

Kennedy grabs my hands and looks into my eyes. “Well?”

I smile and take in a deep breath, letting it out again. “Yes.”

Lance fist pumps in the air. “Sweet. Then let's hit it.”

The wedding party heads out to the main room of the venue. It’s a small building made for intimate parties that overlooks the lake. Owen asked more than once if I was sure this was all I wanted. He was ready to book a yacht and sail us around the world if that’s what I wanted.

But after the year we’ve had, lowkey is perfect. Private and pretty with just close friends and family is all I could ever want.

The music plays, a soft instrumental version of one of my favorite Luke Combs songs, and Lance holds out his arm to Kennedy. She smiles—for show—all the while whispering through her teeth, “Don’t fuck this up.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he whispers back. The rest of the guys and their significant others follow, with Summer walking with Nicky at the end, Victoria in tow. People ooh and aww at the sight of them.

But my eyes are locked on Owen.

He can’t see me yet, but I can see him. His suit is fitted and shows off all his best features, which is everything. But what has my eyes tearing up and my heart doing acrobatics in my chest, is the look on his face.

Owen Sharpe does not cry.

It’s not in his inventory of emotions.

But I can see by the way he keeps rocking back on his heels, clenching and unclenching his jaw, smiling nervously… that he feels the same way I do. Like he can’t believe we did it. We made it. We went from enemies to fake lovers to real lovers to friends to parents and now, finally, we are about to be husband and wife.

My song starts to play and Uncle Randy looks over at me. “You ready, Alley Cat?”

I let out a shaky breath and smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

He studies me with warm eyes. “You are stunning, Callie. Inside and out. I’m really proud of you.”

“Uncle Randy, you’re going to mess up my makeup.” I laugh, shakily, running a delicate, manicured finger under my eye to catch a tear.

“That’s okay. You don’t need it, anyway. You’re strong and beautiful and driven, and… I’m grateful I got to raise you. Not just as a niece. But as another daughter.”

Goddammit, Uncle Randy.

Cue the floodgates.

Before I can turn into a sobbing mess, he places a hand over mine. “Alright, it’s time for me to give you away. And to Owen Sharpe.” He shakes his head. “Who would’ve thought? Not me.”

“Shh.” I hush him, making the nearby people snigger.

Then my gaze locks in on Owen. On the way his entire being seems to light up when he sees me. The way the rest of the world fades away with every step closer I take towards him… towards my happy ending.

The ceremony is perfect.

He holds my hand while we vow to love each other through a long list of things we’ve already endured together. I have no doubts that, no matter what comes, he and I can weather it together.

After a ceremony of tears and vows, rings and cheers, we kiss, not caring at all that people are watching. We only stop when Victoria starts fussing behind me.

I take her from Summer, propping her on my hip as we walk back down the aisle as a family.

“I love Callie. Maybe more than I love anyone on God’s green Earth,” Kennedy begins her wine-induced toast. The sports bar-themed reception is in full swing. Food is being devoured, booze is flowing, and apparently, it’s time for speeches. “But when she told me that I had to give a speech on her wedding day, and I told her I was afraid to talk in front of people, you know what she said?”

“That you’ve never been shy a day in your life?” Lance squishes next to her so his mouth can reach the single microphone, too.

She shoves him over. “No. She said it might be easier if I didn’t have to do it alone. She suggested that me and the best man, aka the guy slobbering all over the mic right now, do our speeches together.”

“It makes sense.” Lance slides back in, earning a laugh. “Seeing as how we’d be here all night if you were left to your own devices.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” she snaps.

“You never know when to shut the fuck up.”

Everyone laughs. Dax’s girlfriend leans into him. “They’re so funny. Do you think this was rehearsed?”

It’s not. This is just how they are.

Kennedy does her best to ignore him. “Callie, you’re not just my cousin…”

“Owen, you're not just a pain in my ass…” Lance copies her.

“You’re also my best friend.”

“You’re a pain in everyone’s ass.”

Kennedy rolls her eyes and goes on. “You’re like a sister to me, Cal.”

“You’re, contractually, my teammate, O.”

“And I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“And I often wonder how much easier games would be if you weren’t there to fuck them up.”

Owen laughs. “What the fuck kind of speech is this?”

I dab at the tears in my eyes. “A beautiful one.”

For me, at least.

“With your sweet and caring advice?—”

“With your constant temper tantrums?—”

“And your beautiful smile?—”

“And your ugly mug, bloody from picking too many fights?—”

“I only hope I can be half the friend, mom, and woman you are today.”

“I am just glad you are someone else’s problem now.”

“I love you, Callie,” Kennedy finishes.

“Thank you for sparing me, Callie. And I’m sorry.” Lance grins.

Everyone is laughing so hard you can hardly hear what they are saying.

Kennedy walks off the stage, mumbling something that sounds a lot like, “Unfuckingbelievable.”

Lance zeros in on Owen, forming a fist with his hand and pressing it to his chest. Owen mimics him, doing the same thing in return with a single nod. Boys.

Kennedy and Lance exit the stage and disappear as our first dance song begins to play.

Owen wraps his arms around me, swaying us both to “Happy Man” by Thomas Rhett. “You would pick this song.”

“Shut up. You love it.”

“I love you,” he says. “And I can’t believe we finally made it here.”

“I can.” And it’s true. As much doubt and uncertainty as there was at the beginning, I’ve never been as sure of anything as I am of Owen Sharpe.

His expression sinks a little. “I am worried about one thing, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I can’t take you on a honeymoon until after the season is over.”

“You mean the reigning captain and center for the Scythes can’t get away for a couple weeks?” I tease.

“Maybe in April,” he considers. “May, if we make the playoffs.”

He could take me anywhere, anytime. Wherever he is, I’m going. “I hear Ireland is beautiful in June.”

He holds me tighter, his hand spreading across my ribs like he wants to claim as much of me as possible. “God, I love you.”

We kiss, getting lost in each other for a moment. Then we look around.

“I forgot everyone was here,” I admit.

“I didn’t even notice.”

I turn my head. “Speaking of everyone, where is Kennedy?”

She should be livid that I’m not doing the choreographed ballroom number she insisted we both go to dance classes to learn. We’re doing what she would call the “middle school sway.”

“I don’t know.” He surveys the sea of people around us. “But Lance is MIA too.”

“Has he told you?—?”

“Nope. Has she?”

“Not one fucking word.”

Maybe I can convince her to spill the details as a wedding gift. But until then, the only thing I want to focus on is the man in front of me.

After cake and dancing and a sparkler send-off, Owen and I are dropped off by a black Escalade at the Hilton in downtown Houston.

“Thanks, Johnny.” Owen tosses a tip into the front seat before climbing out.

“I can’t believe you hired him as our driver,” I say as we make our way to the honeymoon suite.

“Well, he’s a bodyguard. I wanted to make sure nothing and no one would fuck tonight up. And what better way for me to stay out of trouble? Also, after the Santos bar tanked?—”

“You mean the party hub of the Scythes?” I poke at him, and Owen’s eyes roll nearly to the back of his head.

“—Johnny needed another gig. Private driver and bodyguard it is.”

Owen kisses me down the hallway and into the elevator. I’m pinned between his body and the door to our suite as he devours my neck.

“Can we get inside before you ravish me?”

“Fine.” He reluctantly pulls his lips from my skin while he opens the door.

We nearly fall inside, and he catches me, throwing me on the California king bed, wedding dress and all.

There are fairy lights strung across the ceiling, a bottle of champagne on ice, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Houston skyline.

“What’s unreal,” Owen growls, stalking towards me, “is that you are my wife.”

He loosens his tie and crawls onto the bed. I undo his buttons while he expertly opens the bodice of my dress.

The material falls around my waist, revealing the delicate white and silver lingerie I’m wearing beneath. Owen’s eyes are dancing as he takes me in.

“You’ve been wearing that under your dress all day?”

“Yes, why?” I bite my bottom lip in a smile.

“If I’d known that, I would’ve ended the wedding much sooner.”

He fights with the layers of my dress as we kick it to the end of the bed and onto the floor. Owen’s shirt is open, exposing the hard planes of his midsection. I drag my fingers down the ridges as he curls his palm over my center, working two fingers into me.

I gasp as his mouth hovers over mine. “What do you want?”

I say the first thing that comes to mine. “You.”

His eyes are black with want as he settles between my thighs and—shoutout to crotchless panties—slides himself deep inside of me.

We have a lifetime for slow lovemaking. Tonight, I know he wants to claim me just as much as I want him to.

“God, you feel so good,” he groans. “Nothing is better than this, Cal. It’s never—never—been like this. With anyone.”

Our fingers tangle together as he lifts my arms above my head, driving into me until I’m arching against him, crying out for more.

He grinds into me. “You feel amazing. You look amazing. Every inch of you.”

I moan as he picks up the pace.

“And you know what else?” he asks, his voice low and gritty. “You. Are. Mine.”

He punctuates each word with a thrust, sending me over the edge. I clench around him, pulling him deeper into me until he falls, too.

We’re panting, half-dressed and tangled up in one another when I turn to him. “Owen?”

He draws a circle with his fingertip along my shoulder. “Yes, my love?”

“What made you want to fake date me?”

He turns to look at me, too. “What?”

“I never officially asked. When you told my uncle we were dating, it obviously wasn’t true. Why did you do that?”

“Because I’m irrational. And I was desperate.”

My mouth pops open and I shove him.

He laughs and goes on. “And because, deep down, I already knew I wanted you, but I didn’t know how to have you. Not when you hated me. Not when my life was such a wreck. I’d thought about kissing you a thousand times after that first night we had together, but I knew I never could. I didn’t think I’d ever have you for real, but I wanted to know what it would feel like, anyway.”

I snuggle closer to him. “Well? How does it feel, Owen Sharpe?”

He kisses my neck, his stubble scraping across my skin, lighting me up from the inside out. “It feels like forever, Mrs. Sharpe.”