Page 76 of Puck and Prejudice

She shrugs. “I don’t know… drag his ass out of the car?”

“He’s a big boy made of pure muscle. How am I supposed to drag him out of the car?”

She smirks at me. “Maybe you can kiss him awake.”

I shake my head. “God, you’re awful. Fine, I’lltryto wake him.”

In a huff, I get out of the car, then open Jackson’s passenger side door. “Jackson… wake up.” I shake his shoulder first, and when he doesn’t move, I grab his arm and yank. “Come on, Darcy. It’s time to go.”

He opens his eyes slowly and seems lost for a moment. “Where am I?”

“We’re in front of your house. Let’s get you inside.”

A lazy smile unfurls on his face. “Are you coming in with me?”

I open my mouth to say no, but Jane beats me to the punch. “Yes, she’ll come in with you. Now get out.”

I can’t believe she said that, but at least it gets Jackson moving. I help him out of the car, and he pretty much collapses on top of me. “Oops.”

“God, did you get drunker during the ride here?”

He stands straighter. “What? I’m not drunk.”

I grab his arm and put it around my shoulder. “Come on, sober boy. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Yeah, babe.” He kisses my cheek, and my face bursts into flames.

Jane starts to back out of the driveway, making me turn and yell, “Where are you going?”

She sticks her head out the window. “I’ll come back later to get you.”

I grumble. I swear she’s just trying to play matchmaker now.

“Where’s your key?” I ask Jackson.

“I don’t have a key. I just need my code.”

Indeed, he has one of those modern locks with a keypad. I wait for him to type it in, but it takes him a couple of attempts to get it right.

“Phew. I was one attempt away from being locked out.”

“That’s why I prefer old fashioned keys,” I reply.

He walks in but holds the door open for me. “Welcome to my humble residence.”

I give the open living room a cursory glance. There’s nothing humble about his house. Everything looks expensive. The decor is more modern than his ranch, but the color scheme is similar. Light neutrals with a dark furniture accents. The only pop of color in the living room is a piece of modern art hanging from a wall.

“Who are those hockey players in the painting?” The art is too messy to tell.

Jackson walks toward the painting and poses next to it. “You don’t see the resemblance?”

“That’s you?” My brows shoot up.

“Yeah, me and Chad, celebrating his very first shutout, which was also the first NHL game we played together.”

“Wow… and you commissioned it?”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m not that narcissistic. It was a gift from a local artist.”

---