Charming as Puck(77)

She shivers, and I squeeze her hand.

Ares is right.

I don’t know enough about Kami. “What else?” I ask.

“What else did the clowns do?”

“No, what else scares you? So I know when I have to man up and take care of it.”

That laugh. Fuck, that sweet laugh gets me every time. And she’s so fucking generous with it, like she doesn’t know she could keep it to herself.

“You know those dreams where you’re back in high school and you missed your finals and you can’t remember your locker combination?”

I frown. “No.”

“No? Seriously?”

“I haven’t dreamed about high school since I was in grade school, plotting how to get all the girls in high school.”

She rolls her eyes out loud—swear she does—and I crack a grin in the darkness.

“I sometimes dream I’m driving to the arena for a game, but I keep taking wrong turns,” I confess.

“Close enough.” There’s a smile in her voice, and I’d confess to shitting my pants in a haunted house if it would make her happy.

Even though I never have.

And you can’t prove otherwise.

“Corn scares me too,” she says.

“Corn?”

“I snuck out of bed while my parents were watching…you know, I actually don’t know what they were watching. But I know this freaky half-eaten ghost-zombie thing kept whispering, The corn has ears. It can hear your screams, and it likes it, and we went on a field trip to a farm the next week for school, and I had to be carried out sobbing. I still can’t eat it without feeling like someone just walked over my grave.”

“Christ,” I mutter.

“I also used to sneak out of my parents’ house to go see Muffy all the time,” she says.

“What? No. You were—”

“Head cheerleader, prom queen, and not as sweet and innocent as everyone thought I was. Smiles lie, Murphy. If anyone should know that…”

Her hand glides over my thigh, and my cock twitches, because it always springs to life at the slightest hint of interest from her.

“Does Felicity know?” I ask. Because I want to know Kami better than Felicity does. Better than anyone.

“I don’t know. I didn’t really know her in high school, and didn’t she graduate my freshman year?”

I frown and try to do the math on how fast Felicity went through high school, then give up with a shrug, because I don’t even remember what year I was in when Felicity graduated. I just know she was gone before me. And if my birthday wasn’t six months before Kami’s, we probably would’ve been in the same grade. “Probably.”

“Anyway, it wasn’t like I went every weekend. And she and I didn’t get close until after college. College for me, I mean.”

“Do you need to go home right now?” I ask.

“Why? You have another party to take me to?”

She’s smiling now. I love that I can hear it when she smiles. “No, something else. A surprise.”

“Tell me it’s not thirty of something.”

I bark out a laugh, remember all the boxes on her main floor, and instantly sober. “Ah, no. Not thirty of something.”

“I still can’t believe you had a Sugarbear bobblehead made. Do you have any idea what some of your fans would bid for a collection of thirty insane gifts from you? Not that I don’t appreciate them, I just…don’t have room.”

“And I still have ten more days of presents,” I add. Ten more days of presents…and fourteen days until we play Indianapolis.

She sucks in a breath, and now I can hear her cringing, which instantly soothes any panic that might be rising at the idea of facing the Indies.

She’ll be cheering for me.

We’re going to kick some Indie ass.

“I know,” she sighs.

“The Nick Murphy dolls are super tasteful,” I tease her. “And clothed so the average person doesn’t know they’re anatomically correct.”

“Oh my god,” she mutters.

I rub her hand. “It’ll be okay. We’ll auction them off for charity. Just a little detour. You up for it?”

“Sure.” She leans her head on my shoulder, the sweet scent of her simple shampoo filling my nose, her hair tickling my neck, and why the fuck haven’t we been doing this for years? “But can I tell you something and you can’t be mad at me?” she asks softly.

“I could never get mad at you, but if I pretend to be, will you rub my cock?”

She laughs. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Then I can handle anything you need to tell me.”

“I found Sugarbear a home.”

I slam on the brakes, my heart suddenly in my throat. “The fuck you did.”

“Nick—”

“Maybe I found her a home.” A car veers around us and lays on the horn, but I don’t move. “She’s my cow-dog. She was delivered to my condo. She’s at my parents’ house. You can’t have her.”

“Nick—”

“I’m not a total useless dickhead all the time. And I like my cow-dog. I feed her. I clean up her shit. I’m giving her a fucking home.” I suck in a breath and go on before Kami can say a damn word. “I’ve never had a pet. Not a pet that was mine. And I’ve never wanted one, but I’m tired of hockey being my life. There’s so fucking much more. You can’t give me more and then take it away. I’ll get a fucking permit to raise her at the stadium if I have to. I’m keeping my cow-dog. And you’re either with me, or you can walk your pretty ass home.”