Page 127 of Puck Love

One week later

Isetmy bag downat the front door, throw my keys on the hall table, and flex my fist. I’ll need to ice it again soon to take down the swelling, but hitting that fucker was worth it. Even if it did cost me a one-game suspension in the Stanley Cup. I’m just sad Stella hadn’t been there to see it, but she’d had some pretty important meeting with the LA division of her label that she couldn’t get outof.

“Country, I’mhome.”

“You’re early,” Stella says, and I follow the sound of her voice to the kitchen. I stop dead in my tracks when I see her covered in flour, and what looks like egg. She’s makeup free, her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she wears a Hello Kitty apron, and nothing else. Fuck me. She pouts and throws what looks like a lump of sticky dough on the floured counter. “I wanted to get all dolled up for you, but I’m not donehere.”

I grin. “What are youdoin’?”

“I was trying to surprise you, but I burnt the firstbatch.”

I glance at the pot in the sink which is overflowing with dishwater soap and chunks of burnt . . . well I haven’t figured out yet what that is, but I’m one hundred percent sure it’s not edible and likely never was. “Ofwhat?”

“I was trying to make your favorite pasta. I called your mamma to get the recipe, but it seems I can’t even follow the simplest ofinstructions.”

“You cooked forme?”

“I tried.” She grimaces. “I’m sorry. I kind of suck at this whole domestic goddessthing.”

I chuckle. “You really do, but it’s a good thing I’m not after you for your culinaryskills.”

“Oh, really? What are youafter?”

“Your cunt,” I say with a cheeky grin that I know will get me anywhere with her. “Your sweet, beautiful tits, and this gloriousface.”

She laughs. “Well, let me just wash up and we can work on you getting all of thosethings.”

“Don’tbother.”

“But I’msticky.”

I grin. “You’re gonna be stickier when I’m finished withyou.”

Afterward, as we lay spenton our kitchen floor, Stella reaches for a crumpled piece of paper poking out of my discarded suit pocket. “What isthat?”

“Oh yeah. I have a surprise for you,too.”

“You brought me a present fromNashville?”

“Kind of.” I snatch up the paper and unfold it before handing it to her. There’s a drop of blood on one corner and a bunch of chicken scratch, but it’s mostly legible. Stella’s brow creases as she reads the notealoud.

Stella,

I’m sorry I ever fucked with you, and I’m sorry I hit you, too. Hitting women is for pussy-assedbitches.

Logan.

“Oh my God, is that blood?” She shrieks and drops the note on thefloor.

“I ran into your ex. Made him an offer he couldn’trefuse.”

“Whatoffer?”

“Write an apology or I knock his teeth out.” I shrug. “I might have knocked a couple out anyway, just for the fun ofit.”

“You knocked Logan’s teethout?”

“Yeah.” I grin. “Goodtimes.”

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