Page 25 of Puck Sweat Love

Her lips lilt up as she whispers, “This is probably crazy, but I can’t help myself.”

Before I can respond, she pushes up on tiptoe and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is a gentle, sweet surprise, and over far too quickly.

She pulls back, her gaze searching mine. “Okay?”

“No. Not okay.” My voice is rough, edged with longing. I cup her face, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheek as I lean in, capturing her mouth with mine.

Her lips are soft, warm, parting for me with a sigh that makes my blood rush. She tastes like the rich spice of thecurry we shared, but beneath that, she just tastes like…her. Like Steph, and I already know it’s a taste I’m going to crave for the foreseeable future.

Heat builds between us, more soft, hungry sounds filling the air as the kiss grows deeper, hotter—until Mr. Sniffles, who I’d nearly forgotten was pinned between us, lets out a fart so powerful it vibrates through my ribs.

We jolt apart, laughing, then groaning as an unholy stench fills the air.

“Damn, buddy,” I say, waving a hand through the air. “It smells like something died up there.”

“Sorry,” Stephanie says, still laughing. “I’m so sorry. His butt is a menace to society.”

“Or a bio weapon,” I agree.

Mr. Sniffles chuffs in response, almost as if he’s proud of his toxic backside, and farts a second time, even louder than the first.

“Omg, stop, you maniac,” Steph stays as she backs toward her building. “Goodbye. I’ll see you soon. Better get him upstairs before he scares you away for good.”

“I’m not scared,” I say, calling in a louder voice as she reaches the front gate, “I’ll text you later?”

Stephanie’s cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright. “You’d better. Drive safe, Theodore. Good night.”

“Goodnight, Teach,” I call after her, watching until she’s safely inside.

As I put my helmet back on, I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. For the first time in a long time, I’m not thinking about hockey, or my comeback, or all the ways I’ve screwed up in the past.

I’m just thinking about her.

This woman.

This woman…

CHAPTER 6

STEPHANIE

The moment I get inside my apartment, I set Mr. Sniffles down, lean back against the door, and let out a swoony sigh a rom com heroine would be proud of.

“He likes me,” I say, a giddy grin splitting my face. “He likes me, and he’s anamazingkisser!”

My next sigh turns into a happy squeal, causing Mr. Sniffles to prop his paws on my knee and smack his lips repeatedly, clearly stressed out by my adolescent display of emotion.

But I can’t help it.

Tank makes me feel like I’m sixteen again, back when a kiss was enough to make my head spin, and romance was something I took for granted would be a part of my future. Maybe not before I graduated high school, but as a teen, I was positive that soon—maybe evenverysoon—I would have a knee-weakening love just like in the movies.

Just like my parents had.

Instead, I’ve learned that most men my age have no time for romance, little interest in investing in anything except their 401ks, and that all my mom’s warnings about guys wanting “just one thing” were truer than I ever wanted to imagine. And,adding insult to injury, the past few years have made it clear that I’m apparently a narcissist magnet, a gullible mark who can’t tell the difference between love-bombing and someone who actually cares about me.

“But Tank isn’t a narcissist,” I tell Mr. Sniffles, running a soothing hand over his back. “He’s too grouchy.”

My pug shakes his head with a huff.

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