Page 107 of Puck Lust

His eyes widen the slightest bit, and then his face relaxesinto a smile. “Of course, sir.” Then he drops the phone into its cradle.

“Mr. Larson would like you to bring him the packages.” Howie’s eyes crinkle in the corners, his beaming smile is so wide.

My heart jumps and does a little dance. “Really?”

He nods and presses the button next to the security gate.

“Thanks, Howie. Enjoy the cookies.” I push through it with my lower body since my hands are full as I head to the elevator.

I can barely think over the racket caused by my thudding heart. The elevator climbs to Jack’s floor and I step out into the hallway. His apartment is about halfway down the corridor. I stop in front of the door and set one of the bags down so I can knock, but it swings open before I have a chance.

My breath catches when I see him.

His Black Sabbath t-shirt stretches tight across his muscular chest, his left arm in a sling. Black sweatpants hang low around his hips. His hair looks like he just rolled out of bed and hangs over his piercing green eyes. Week-old stubble covers the bottom half of his face.

I’ve never seen him look more fuckable than he does right now.

Sweat beads on the back of my neck, my body starting to overheat under the jacket and weight of the bags hanging off my arms.

“How much longer are you planning to stalk me?”

I shift under his stare. “Well, it’s not really stalking if you know it’s me, right? I’m bringing you stuff. Stalkers don’t usually come bearing gifts.”

His lips tighten and he holds the door open a crack wider. “I don’t have space for any more stuff.”

I peer into the apartment behind him. The place is covered with bags I’ve sent over the past week. “Please tell me you’ve atleast eaten the food because that’s fucking disgusting if you just keep it laying around like that.”

He rolls his eyes and I latch onto the angry-looking bruise on the side of his face. It looks much better than it did in the hospital, but it’s still a little swollen.

“How are you feeling?” I press on since he hasn’t sent me away yet. “You look better.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still in pain,” he snaps, and I know it has nothing to do with the accident and the shooting, but everything to do with me.

“Look, I’m not going to stop showing up here. I want you to understand that I’m here for whatever you throw my way. I did a shitty thing?—”

“A ridiculously thoughtless, selfish, asshole thing,” he interrupts.

“Yes, all of that. But since you haven’t accepted my apology, I’m going to keep trying until it finally breaks through.”

“And you think sending me shit is gonna do the trick?”

“Until you get back on the ice. Then I’ll have to come up with something new. In the meantime, I’m just trying to make sure you’re taken care of since you won’t let me do it myself.”

“And you think I should trust you to take care of me?” he says.

I nod. “Yes. Because I’m a good guy who made a mistake. You know me, Jack. Don’t people deserve a second chance?”

His jaw tenses, his glare searing my insides until he pulls it away and focuses on one of the bags in my hand.

“Wait, is that…? Crumble and Whisk,” he breathes, taking a bag and breathing in deeply. “Is that the lemon blueberry?”

“I remember you said it’s your favorite when we were at my parents’ house, and although I can’t imagine how anyone in his right mind would put those two things together?—”

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “Mmm, that’s so good. I needed thatso badly.” He backs up and nods at the rest of the bags. “Just leave them here. I’ll grab them later.”

Then he closes the door with his right shoulder since his hand is now full.

My jaw drops, damn near hitting the floor.

---