Charming as Puck(24)

I duck my head over the menu again, because now I’m thinking about Felicity.

And Doug.

And the thousands of cookies printed with dick pics that Nick sent Doug, who then dumped them on Felicity’s lawn, when they broke up.

Nick does not do anything small.

Also, Doug went a little stalker nutso after that. We haven’t had reason to talk since the break-up, but I’d still rather not see him.

Who wants to see their friends’ psycho exes? Especially when he was ultimately the reason the entire Thrusters team got sent to charm school?

Heat surges across my neck, and I lunge for my cell phone, because my date’s name is Douglas.

Muffy wouldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

But did she know?

I’m failing to unlock my phone because my hands are shaking so badly when the hostess’s black shoes stop beside my table. “Ms. Oakley, sir.”

I whip my head up, and fuck.

Doug’s lips part as we make eye contact. He’s in pressed jeans and a blue button-down. His brown hair is neatly trimmed. So’s his beard. His glasses reflect the candlelight on the table. And if I didn’t know better, I’d think he wasn’t a psychotic crazypants.

“Is this some kind of a fucking joke?” he demands as he looks me up and down.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” I stutter.

The hostess glances between us, then shoots a look toward the bar.

“Did Murphy set you up to make me look like a fool?” he snarls.

I pull my phone out and aim it at him. “I’m recording every word you say. You’re going to back away and let me leave, and never, ever talk about this huge mistake again, and I won’t show this to Ares Berger.”

“Fucking—”

“Ma’am?” The gentle-voiced manager joins us as I’m scurrying out of the booth. “Is everything okay?”

“Blind date gone wrong,” I tell him, because that’s simpler than my idiot cousin set me up with my friend’s psycho ex. “May I please have an escort to my car?”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Doug seethes. “My first date in a fucking year, and it’s this bitch. Fucking Muff Matchers. I’ll put them the fuck out of business for this.”

“Sir—”

Whatever else the manager says, I don’t hear, because there’s a hollow whoosh in my ears and the entire dimly-lit restaurant takes on the hues of hell. “Oh, you better take that back right now,” I growl.

“You’re a bitch,” he repeats. “And this dating service is run by retar—”

Everything after that gets a little hazy.

I know I take a swing at him. Someone screams. Maybe a few someones. I definitely connect with something, because there’s a sharp sting radiating from my middle knuckle to my elbow. Hands grab me. I thrash about. I’m shouting. Something about dicks not calling other people names. Something about Nick chopping off Doug’s nuts if he gets in my face again.

It’s not like I can threaten that my brother’s going to do it.

A wall of mist hits my face, and I realize I’ve just been tossed out of Nobel V and into the night. Streetlamps illuminate the wide sidewalks and couples in dark jackets and groups of single women laughing together walk past.

“I don’t know what he did to you,” the hostess tells me as she hands me my coat and purse, “but damn, girl. I want you on my side next time my boyfriend pulls a dick move.”

“Can I escort you to your car, ma’am?”

The manager is outside the bar too, watching me as though I’m a lit stick of dynamite.

“I’m sorry.” I shake my hand out—did I break it?—and realize my sinuses are clogging and my cheeks are wet. “I don’t usually—”

I swallow hard, because I don’t usually lose my flipping mind at wine bars is just too weird to force out. I don’t even know myself right now. “No, thank you,” I finish.

The manager shifts a look over his shoulder, and I realize he’s asking just as much for my safety as for Doug’s.

Probably more so for mine.

Maybe.

My heart’s still pounding like it’s in a boxing ring.

“I have friends just down the street,” I tell him, gesturing at the glowing neon sign for Chester Green’s. I doubt my friends are there—it’s not a game night—but I know the bartender and several regulars.

Plus, there’s no way Doug would walk in there.

Everyone in Chester Green’s knows who he is, even if Muffy apparently doesn’t.

And after that, I definitely need a drink.

And then I’m going to kill Muffy.

Again.





Fourteen





Nick



It’s not often that half the team descends on Chester Green’s at once, but we’re doing it in spectacular fashion tonight. We’re taking up the entire back wall of the bar between the team, girlfriends, and wives. Zeus has claimed Frey’s baby and is telling everyone that she gets her good looks from her mother’s side of the family. You wouldn’t think a baby would turn half a hockey team into sappy dorks, but we’re all making funny faces at her and fighting over who makes her smile the biggest.