Page 202 of Revenge Puck

You could hear a pin drop in this room. A small crowd of Wolves staff stand at the glass in the corridor, along with several other players, watching with Dorian Meier, as I do my best to entertain a room full of impatient, wiggling children who can’t resist moving all over the place.

I am boring most of them to tears.

The have ants in their pants, several of them stand for a better view.

“Babe,” I say to Juliette. “I promise to tell you the truth even when it makes me look like a giant asshole.”

She laughs again as a blue card lifts, covered in crudely drawn hearts with an insane amount of glitter:HE LOVES YOU A LOT.

I walk over and take her hands. “I love you—a shit-ton.”

A child gasps at my profanity.

Several teachers cough at the same time a kid with narrowed eyes vows, “I’m telling my mom you said that.”

“What’s a shit-ton?” someone else demands to know.

I ignore them all. “Not sure how it’s possible to love someone this much in such a short amount of time, but I do. I’m so sorry for what an ass I was and wanted my little friends to hear it. If Bandit the bear and I had a thousand chances to go back in time and do things differently, we’d both choose you every single time.”

I love her so damn much.

She glances around at the tiny chairs, the handmade signs, and the children watching us with open interest, clearly hanging on her every word, waiting for her to say something back.

“Y-you love me?”

“I do.”

Juliette is positively glowing. “Sincewhen?”

I slide my hands around her waist. “I loved you the second you ordered that milkshake on our first official date, even if I was too busy acting like a complete freaking idiot to realize it.”

Her brows raise. “That soon?”

Yes, that soon. “So now you don’t have to wonder.”

Her lips part, but before she can respond several of the girls in the room release a collective, “aww.”

More cue cards rise.

KISS HER!

KISS HER!

“Did you see that?” I drag the tip of my nose along the sensitive skin below her ear. “The crowd demands we kiss.”

She glances at them. “They’re a very bossy audience.”

“Obviously,” I scoff. “Wolves fans take romance seriously.”

When I press a kiss to her jawline, the room erupts into a fit of shrieks and giggles as if I had my tongue jammed halfway down her throat—which I fully intend to do later, in private.

“This may be the least dignified moment of my life,” I murmur. “I feel like these beady little eyes are all judging me.”

She laughs. “I mean, we are at work. This has to be breaking several policies.”

Probably.

Don’t give a crap though.