Page 95 of Pucking Rebound

“She’s not your type,” Piper mutters against the rim of her mug.

“Kali’s not my type? How the hell would you know?” I ask curiously.

She grins devilishly. “Because your type sends you Christmas baubles, is tall and handsome, gives you earth-shattering orgasms, and makes you blush redder than a tomato.”

“He does.” I take the plunge, clear my throat, and confess, “It’s Jordan Miller.”

“Jordan Miller?” Her mouth drops open when I nod, giving her the confirmation she needs. “Since when?” she exclaims before her lips shape into a grin.

“The night Graham and I broke up.” My shoulders tense. “I jumped straight into another man’s bed.”

She puts her mug down on the vintage pop art coffee table and clutches her hands to her chest. “This makes me so happy.”

“Does it not make me a puck slut?”

“Hell no. This is the best news.” She throws her hands up excitedly, punching the air, then puts her palms together prayer-style. “Please tell me you’ve spent every night with him since that night.”

“Most nights.”

“Yes.” She bounces up and down and does a sort of celebratory sitting down dance.

“You’re dancing because I had sex?”

“I’m dancing because you had sex with Jordan Miller. The hottest fucking hockey player in the NHL. No offense to your brother.” She begins fanning her face with her hands. “And he gives you earth-shattering orgasms and bought you that.” She points to my gift. “I want to hear everything, all the details.”

“But we haveThe Vampire Diariesto watch.” I point to the episode that’s already started to play.

“Forget Elena and Stefan.” She picks up the remote and pauses her favorite show, which shocks me. “Spill the tea. I need to know everything.”

Over the next hour, I tell her all about the night it all started.

“Wow, Lola. You are a lucky girl.”

“He is super swoony.”

“Lola.” She shouts my name really loud. “I asked you to bring me his face to sit on the other day.”

“Yes you did.”

“You were already sitting on it.”

“I was indeed.”

She goes all starry-eyed. “You’re one lucky, lucky lady.”

“I am.” Am I though? Because what we do together is secret, and I hate that for us. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Who the hell will I tell?” She throws her hands out to the side. “I work all the time. You are my only friend.”

“You have the girls from the gallery. They love you.”

“They put up with me and I pay their salary. That’s not the same.”

“True.”

Looking up, I can tell she’s daydreaming as she asks, “Can you help me find a hot hockey player to fuck my brains out?”

“What happened to Logan?”

---