Page 15 of Puck, Marry, Kill

“Oh!” Briar squeaks as that pretty pink blush colors her cheeks once more. I’m 99.4 percent certain she’s imagining me, bare-assed and hopefully hard. But she quickly points at Harley and says, “Don’t even think about it, mister.”

The boy instantly slumps in disappointment, and I can’t help but chuckle. “I bet Snuffles gets to sleep naked,” I stage-whisper to him.

Briar’s mom voice returns as she declares, “Snuffles is responsible for an entire herd. He gets to do whatever he wants. You have to be reminded to brush your teeth every day and pick up your dirty clothes from the floor.”

I pull a face, cringing, and say to Harley, “Your mom’s got a fair point. Definitely need to brush morning and night. And clean up after yourself. Morning breath and dirty drawers are a big no-go.”

“But if I slept naked, I wouldn’t have laundry to pick up,” Harley counters, but he’s joking with his mother. She gives him one of those trademarked mom looks, silently saying so much, and he shrugs. “It was worth a try.”

I like how comfortable they are with each other. It reminds me of my parents, who are amazing. If you looked upmomanddadin the dictionary, their pictures would be there. Loving and supportive, they are the foundation on which my success is built, and I’m grateful for them every day, especially after seeing how fortunate I am to have them in my corner. Not everyone is so lucky. Harley’s lucky, too, at least with his mother.

“How’d you end up taking care of animals?” I ask curiously. “It’s not exactly the usual nine-to-five.”

“And hockey is?” she challenges. But she explains, “I loved science as a kid. Every animal show I could watch, I did ... on repeat. The plan was to go to college for a zoology degree, but plans changed.” Her eyes drop to Harley for a split second, but there’s only affection in their depths, no regret over her changed course. “When Harley was little, I would take him to the zoo in his stroller every chance I could. I’d walk him around all day, teaching him about the animals, and eventually, I got to know the keepers. That grew into volunteering, and when we moved here, I applied for an entry-level job, mostly cleaning habitats and helping with the education programs like I’d done before. I did finally get my degree, just an associate, but because the zoo is so small here, that’s been enough to let me move up the food chain so to speak. Now, I get to work directly with the animals, which is exactly where I belong.”

“Dream come true, I guess,” I summarize, and she smiles happily as though she truly believes that.

Caretaking seems to be her nature, something I can relate to. I took care of my sister, mostly protecting her from herself, for my whole life, then added on taking care of Griffin through his rough patch, and now, I’ve been tasked with taking care of Kipson the same way. It might not be my career choice the way it is for Briar, but I understand what it takes.

“Was hockey always your plan?” she asks.

Nodding, I say, “Plan A, B, C, and every letter to Z. There was no alternative. It’s all I ever wanted. Dreamed about it as a kid, focused on it through high school and the minors, and now that I’m living it, I still have to put in the work every day to keep the dream alive. The guys coming up are younger, hungrier, and sometimes stronger. I used to be like that—on that side of the team equation,” I say wistfully. “But now, I’m on the other side, as the grizzled veteran, which means I have to be smarter.” I tap my temple, emphasizing that so much of hockey is mental, not only physical—a lesson I’ve seen play out in front of me too many times. “Things can go sideways in a blink, and you end up somewhere you never expected to be.”

I’m referring to my detour to the Blizzard team, but I see Briar’s smile fade slightly as she unconsciously leans toward Harley. “Unexpected can be good, though. It’s the surprises that life throws at you that make it fun. When things get too boring, I always try to sprinkle a little ‘unexpected’ in on my own. Like we’ll head out on a road trip with no destination in mind, and every once in a while, we’ll stop and decide ‘left, right, or straight’ and see where we end up.”

“Last time, we ended up lost and Mom had to go into a sketchy gas station to ask for directions because there was no phone signal,” Harley informs me.

Briar laughs. “And we got the most delicious saltwater taffy we’ve ever had at that gas station, didn’t we? So it wasn’t all bad.”

I think that’s how she sees the world. Nothing is bad, it’s just good that hasn’t happened yet. Even the way she talks about being a single parent, which can’t be easy, is kindhearted.

“Mmm,” I groan dramatically, patting my stomach. “I love saltwater taffy. I don’t think I’ve had that in ages. Where’d you say that gas station was?”

Harley looks at Briar, who laughs. “Sorry, I have no idea. We were so lost I couldn’t even tell you what part of the state we were in. It was just a one-and-done experience to be appreciated for what it was.”

“Then, to the unexpected,” I conclude, raising my tea in the air.

Briar and Harley pick up their sodas and clink the plastic glasses to mine. “To the unexpected,” Briar echoes.

She gives me a questioning look, like she hasn’t quite figured me out yet, but is definitely trying. Unfortunately, she’s looking for schemes and strategies where there are none. I’m a “what you see is what you get” type of guy, with no dark depths to plunge into and explore. I’m a simple man—I want to play hockey, spend time with people I love, and make the best of the life I’ve been given. I think Briar wants that last one, too, but she’s got infinitely more layers than I do. Her glowy, bright exterior and quick smiles make it seem like she’s had it easy, but there’s so much hurt inside her. She’s covered it up with big mom energy and magic, but it’s there. I see it. I see her.

“Like getting to practice with my favorite nine-year-old,” I tell Harley, and his eyes almost pop out of his skull. I tilt my head, adding out of the side of my mouth, “To be fair, you’re the only nine-year-old I know personally.”

“The guys are going to be so jealous,” he whispers in disbelief. “Especially Connor.”

“Just a bit of ice time between friends,” I say with a shrug. It’s no big deal to me. I had fun with the kid (and his mother), but I can remember being his age and know how much it would’ve meant to have the opportunity to play with a professional that I looked up to. “And who cares what Connor thinks? Not you.” I plant that little seed in the kid’s mind, hoping to get the chance to water it and see it grow.

Harley grabs Briar’s hand, shaking it, and therefore her, wildly. “Mom, did you hear that? Dom says we’re friends!”

She smiles at him, but her eyes cut my way for a split second. I swear she can see right through me, so it’s a good thing there’s nothing but good intentions in my heart. “I heard. That’s really nice of Dom, isn’t it?”

Fuck.

She pointedly refused to call me Dom at the bar, and now that she has, I like it. A lot. Especially with that little glint in her eye that says she knows it’s an intimacy she declined before and is giving me now.

She might be the only friendly face I’ve met since getting to town, but I’m not feeling particularly friendly right this second. I clear my throat, telling myself again that she’s not looking for something romantic, and she’s especially not wanting anything like the dirty thoughts running through my mind—of my hands threaded into her messy hair as she sucks my cock or her giraffe sock–covered feet on my shoulders while I lick her pussy. Or even a sweet little kiss where I can taste the spicy ranch she’s been dipping her fries into.

Be cool, Dom. Be chill. Breathe. Don’t be one of the assholes she’s dealt with before.