Pucking Wild: Chapter 17

Istomp out onto the back patio, my entire body humming with nerves. That’s twice now that Ryan Langley has caught me off guard. Don’t get me wrong, I like being naked, but I don’t typically show my body off to men I’ve just met. Now Ryan has seen me naked, not once, but twice.

What’s that saying? Third time’s a charm?

“Yeah, good luck getting a third time out of me, buddy,” I say to no one at all.

The look in his eyes just now was a total surprise. In Jake’s kitchen, there was only want and hunger. He liked what he saw. He craved it. If I wasn’t battling a sandy ass crack and sunburned shoulders, I may have even taken things further than a kiss. He’s sweet and cute and so ridiculously fit I want to cry…or beg. I mean, you could cut glass on those sexy hip bones.

But tonight, there was a different look in his eyes. Possession. Need. Anger.

That last one threw me for a loop. The anger rolled off him like a surging storm. He thought I was wandering around the house, freshly fucked, flaunting myself in front of him.

I’m done with possessive men who think they get to own me. If Ryan keeps up this attitude, he’ll see me fly before he ever sees me naked again.

Unless he’s your roommate.

The thought flashes through my mind and I bat it away, glancing down at my phone.

I sigh, shaking my head. At this point it’s all just par for the freaking course. I glance up to see Ryan still sitting inside on the couch. He’s in profile, not looking my way. He looks exhausted and miserable. And he’s hurt. A knee sprain, he said. I didn’t even ask him how bad it is or how long he’ll be off the ice. Hockey is the only thing these guys care about. It’s their whole world. He has to be reeling a bit too.

The doorbell rings, and both he and the dog jump with surprise, their heads turning towards the front door. Ryan reaches for his crutches, wincing as he tries to get up.

I launch into motion, pulling open the patio door. “I’ll get it,” I say. “It’s just Rachel.”

He sinks back onto the sofa with a groan, not looking my way.

I hurry across the living room, the tail of my blanket dress dragging across the floor. Poseidon dances at the front door, whimpering with excitement, like he knows who waits on the other side. I pull open the door, and he darts past me, yipping for joy to see his family again.

Mars and Jake are here too. Rachel looks anxious, Jake looks guilty, and Mars is pissed. As one, they take me in, three sets of eyes trailing from my face, down across my blanket dress, and back up.

Jake’s face splits into a grin. “Well, that happened fast.” He glances to his partners. “I guess we have no problem here then, right? So, everyone can just stop being mad at Jake now.”

“Hush,” Rachel says with a wave of her hand. “Tess, oh my god, what did you—”

“Will you get your head out of the gutter? I wasn’t having sex,” I cry indignantly. “I was in the sauna.” I spin on my heel and march back into the house. Ignoring Ryan, I sweep into the kitchen and snatch up my glass of wine, taking a deep swig.

The Prices say their ‘hellos’ to him as I step up to the edge of the sofa, not sitting down. The three of them stand there, Rachel and Jake in front, Ilmari framing them from behind with his arms crossed over his barrel chest.

“So apparently we got our wires crossed a bit here,” Rachel begins. “Tess, I gave you a key when we left and said you could stay here as long as you needed.” Her gaze shifts slowly to look at her husband. “Apparently, Jake said the same to Ryan without telling anyone—”

“Oh my fucking god, don’t get me started again,” Jake huffs. “You did the same thing, babe. You didn’t tell anyone you gave her a key—”

“It just hadn’t come up yet,” she retorts, hands on her hips. “We were all a little busy with the Winter Classic, remember? It didn’t seem necessary to chase you out onto the ice and horse-collar you just to tell you I gave Tess a key to a house none of us live in—”

“Horse-collaring is a football tackle,” he shouts. “In hockey it’s called ‘holding’—”

“That is so far beyond the point—”

“It is the point! You’re married to three hockey players—”

“Enough,” Ilmari barks, his gaze darting between them. “How did either of you get a key? That’s my question.”

“Caleb,” they say at the same time.

“He made us all keys just in case we needed them,” Rachel explains.

“Yeah, what’s yours is mine now, asshole,” Jake adds. “Metaphors, remember?”

“Ohmygod, it’s metamour,” Rachel cries. “We can’t keep correcting you—”

“Fuck! I hate that fucking word.” He glares at Mars. “I hate calling you a metamour, Mars. It’s weird and confusing and I just—I fucking hate it.”

“I never asked you to call me that,” Ilmari replies.

“We gotta pick something better,” Jake presses. “Why can’t I just call you my husband?”

“I never said you couldn’t,” he says softly.

Jake sucks in a sharp breath. “Wait, oh my god, are you serious right now?” He looks to Rachel, all the anger blown from his sails. “Babe, is he serious?”

“He’s always serious,” Rachel replies, her anger receding, too, as she glances between them.

“It’s my factory setting,” Ilmari adds, slowly crossing his arms again.

“No way. Don’t fucking do that,” says Jake. “Don’t make a joke now. Mars, are you serious? Can I call you my husband? I might cry in front of these guys if you say yes,” he adds, gesturing with a wave at me and Ryan.

We share an awkward glance. Maybe Ryan and I should just go wait this out in the sauna.

“Call me whatever you want,” Ilmari says at last.

“I mean, Cay’s my husband,” Jake says. “Like, my husband husband. Like, we’re legally married.”

“I know,” says Mars. “I was there.”

“But you could be my husband too,” Jake says gently. “In a purely friends way,” he adds.

“I said call me whatever you want,” Ilmari repeats with a shrug.

Jake gazes at him for a minute. Finally, he breaks away with a shrug of his own. “Nope. Not happening. I’m not calling you my husband until you beg me for it. We’ll find another word to use as a placeholder.”

Ilmari’s scarred brow lifts slightly. “A placeholder?”

“Yep,” Jake replies. “‘Cause the day will come when you’ll beg me for it. Could be tomorrow, could be ten years from now. I’m patient. I’ll wait.”

“Is that a threat or a bet?” Ilmari replies, smirking.

“Ooookay,” says Rachel, holding up both hands between them. “Let’s continue this at home, yeah? We gotta deal with this,” she adds, gesturing to me and Ryan. “I mean, I hate to do this, but Ryan, Tess was given a key first so…”

“It’s no problem. I’ll go,” says Ryan from the couch. “I’ll call Perry or Dave-O and have them come pick me up.”

“You’re not rooming with Davidson for the next four weeks,” Jake counters. “We shack you up with him, you’ll kill him inside of two days. The guy may be a sieve, but he’s our sieve. We need him.”

“For now,” Mars adds.

“Perry, then,” says Ryan. It’s his voice that hooks something deep in me. He sounds so tired, so physically and emotionally drained.

“It’s fine,” I hear myself say, my hand clutching to the front of my blanket dress.

They all glance over at me, even the dog who stands dutifully at Rachel’s side.

“Seriously?” says Jake.

“Tess, it’s not a big deal,” says Rachel. “There are plenty of other places he can stay. We’re just trying to find him someplace with minimal stairs while he’s on the crutches.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” says Ryan.

“And I told you to shut up,” Jake counters. “This is happening. Deal.”

“He can stay here,” I say.

“Tess…” Rachel says in warning, shaking her head.

“What, there’s two bedrooms, right?” I say with a shrug. “And he’s already here. And he’s tired,” I add, glancing down at him. His exhaustion is written in every line of his face. My poor sunshine puppy from the beach is now looking like a stray left out in a box in the rain. “As long as he doesn’t expect to get fucked six ways to Sunday,” I add.

He groans, looking away. I’m glad he’s embarrassed. It means the sweet puppy is still in there. He was just momentarily possessed by a junkyard dog.

“Won’t be a problem,” he mutters.

“Tess, you’re an angel,” says Jake with a relieved sigh. “It’ll be so much easier if we can just keep him here. It’s close to the practice rink and the rookie apartments. And you won’t have to do a thing,” he adds quickly. “The rookies and WAGs will take care of everything.”

“WAGs?” I repeat.

“Wives and girlfriends,” Ryan explains, not looking at me.

“Yeah, Queen Shelby will be here in the morning to stock the fridge,” says Jake. “All the WAGs will prep his meals. And I bet you can ask them to clean up a bit too,” he adds, glancing around. “Or leave it for the rookies. We’ll have someone check on him every day and drive him to PT until Seattle clears him to drive himself.”

“Which will be when?” Ryan asks, his tone pleading.

“Give yourself a week,” Rachel replies. “Just rest, ice, and elevate.”

“I’ve got all your stuff out in the truck,” Jake says at Ryan. “I’ll go get it. Mars, make sure the guest room has sheets on the bed,” he calls over his shoulder as he jogs off.

Mars just sighs. I can only imagine how much he likes being bossed around in his own house. He flashes Rachel a long-suffering look and she smiles, giving his hand a squeeze as some unspoken agreement passes between them. Ilmari wanders off in the direction of the bedrooms.

“I’ll get you an ice pack,” Rachel says, heading to the kitchen with Poseidon on her heels.

That leaves Ryan and me alone in the living room.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says softly. “Really, I can go.”

I place my hand on his shoulder. “Stay. I want you to stay.”

With a heavy sigh, he leans into my hand. After a moment, he tips his face up slightly, letting his lips graze the inside of my wrist. It’s not a kiss, but it’s not nothing either.

I try to ignore the way it makes my heart beat faster.