Page 47 of One Pucking Heart

“I had a very short”—he glares toward the guys—“run of wearing knockoff brand name clothing. I was young. It was my first year on the team. I wasn’t starting or making a shit ton of money then. So I figured why not save some money on my clothes.”

Jaden howls in laughter. “Yeah, tell her what that tag said.”

Max rolls his eyes and sighs. “I may have had a shirt once with a tag that said Tommy Hulfinger.”

I press my lips in a line, but the chuckle escapes. “Wow. That’s bad. Honestly, you’re lucky they aren’t calling you Hulfinger.”

Bash answers. “It was an option.”

“What do you know?” Max grumbles. “You weren’t even on the team then.”

“I’ve heard the stories. They’re classics. I believe there was a rip-off Polo shirt with a donkey?” Bash raises his eyebrows.

“No!” Max holds up his finger, pointing it toward the guys. “It was a horse. It was not a donkey.”

“That shit was a fucking donkey, TJ,” Gunner’s deep voice says as he walks up beside me, joining the group.

Max groans. “I thrift shop once in my life, and it’s held over my head forever.”

Gunner huffs and passes on by, heading to the bar. He’s been nothing but nice to me, but I don’t get the feeling he’s a super chatty guy.

“Hey.” I squeeze Max’s arm. “I’ve been a bargain shopper all my life. There is nothing wrong with finding deals on clothes. Wearing brand names doesn’t make anyone better than anyone else.”

“However,” Jaden says, “there is a difference between saving money and being an idiot. Would you ever wear a T-shirt with a red, white, and blue flag that is ironed onto the shirt on an angle with the words Tommy Hulfinger on the bottom in big, bright letters?

I look at Max with an apologetic expression. “Well, no. Sorry.”

The group of guys explodes into laughter, and Max shakes his head.

“What’s yours?” I ask Jaden.

“J-Man. Beckett called me that in practice one day, and it stuck. It’s not the best, but I’ll take it.”

I narrow my stare. “Does everyone get one?”

“As in, are you going to get one?” Bash tilts his head, giving me a smug smile. He continues without waiting for my answer. “We’ve already been playing around with one for you.”

“You have?” I raise my brows, anxiety building in my chest. “Do I even want to hear it?”

“Doc Hottie. We used to have Hootie, and it seems like an easy transition,” Max says.

“No!” I gasp. “Absolutely not. You guys cannot call me that. That’s not professional.”

Bash laughs. “And Cookie Monster is? Face it—Hottie is probably going to stick.”

“No. I’m serious.” I give a little stomp of my heel like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum, but I don’t care. I did not struggle through twenty years of school to be called hot.

“I told you guys that name wasn’t going to fly.” Beckett joins us and circles his arms around my waist.

Jaden scoffs. “You don’t have a say in your nickname. It just happens, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

My eyes open wide. “Oh, I can do stuff about it.” I point my finger around the circle. “I can bench every single one of you that uses that name. I’m serious.”

Apparently, my outburst is comical because they all laugh again.

“Come on.” Beckett pulls on my hand. “I want to dance with my wife.”

He leads me away from the group. “Beck, do not let that be my nickname. I’d rather they call me Dr. Trollface. Being referred to as hot negates all the hard work I’ve put in.” My voice gets increasingly more squeaky with each word.

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