Page 19 of Puck Love

The following dayI wakelate to a quiet house, and a note from Van on my pillow thatreads,

Don’t worry, we’re not going to murderyou.

At training, backsoon.

V.

I should have been alarmed that he’d been in my room while I slept, like some kind of creeper, but I smile instead because he remembered our conversation from yesterday. I let the note flutter back to the pillow, and I roll over. I can’t remember the last time I slept in, but wintery sunlight is streaming through my window, and for a long time I just lie here, watching it pool on the waxedfloorboards.

Eventually, the pangs in my stomach force me to go in search of food. I help myself to coffee, and forage through Van’s kitchen cupboards for sustenance before settling on a bagel. At least, I think it’s supposed to be a bagel. It’s sticky, sweet, covered in seeds, and a little misshapen. It’s almost impossible to halve so that it will fit in the toaster, and when I’m done, I discover that the lashings of cream cheese I put on top don’t go over as well as I’d planned. The whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth so I clean up my mess and wander back to the den with a second cup of coffee in hand. I don’t dare turn on the giant flat-screen. I have no interest in the outside world right now, and I still haven’t made up my mind as to what the hell I’m going to do. I know I can’t stay here forever. Emmett and Van have been far too kind to me already, but the thought of leaving sends my heart hammering against my ribcage and my nerves into overdrive. I set down the cup of coffee and smooth my hands over the soft leather couch. I wish I had my guitar right now, because I’ll go crazy fidgeting if I can’t find something to keep my handsbusy.

Van might be able to help withthat.

Shut up,brain.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Van’s preposterous shiny black Hummer pulls up the drive, and I practically sit on my hands to keep from running to the window like a little kid. A beat later, he opens the door and he and Emmett step inside, bringing a blast of cold withthem.

“Oh no, she’s robbed us blind,” Van says with a grin that makes me think about keeping my hands busyagain.

“Veryfunny.”

“Hi, Stella,” Emmett says, giving me a littlewave.

“HeyEmmett.”

Van gives him a playful shove, and Emmett punches him in the arm and wanders off to his room, where he slams the door. Van shrugs and kicks off his shoes. “Did you get mynote?”

“I did, thank you. It was nice to have the clarification that I wasn’t about to be murdered after waking in a strangehouse.”

“I thought you’d like it.” He takes several more steps toward me. “Did youeat?”

The way he says this, his voice all deep and husky, makes me want more . . . food.Of course. Not other things, like getting naked with hot hockey players who are made of grunt and sweat and too much time spent in the gym—and possibly in thebedroom.

What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t date hockey players. I don’t have time for relationships. Besides, I’m sure he’s used to women that are more experienced, and I haven’t the slightest idea how to keep someone like Van Rosssatisfied.

“I ate,” I say quietly. I also blush all the way to myhairline.

“What are you doing, sitting here all byyourself?”

“Thinking toomuch.”

He nods, as if he understands what’s going on inside my head. “Okay, that’s it. Getup.”

“What?”

“Come on, country. We’re springing you from thisjoint.”

“Youare?”

“Emmett, we’re heading down to the woods. You wanna come? There might bemoose.”

He calls from behind his bedroom door, “Has Stella seenmoose?”

“I don’t know. Has she?” Van says, studying my face. Why does everything feel like a loaded question withhim?

“Only once. The other night, when I crashed my car. My life has been surprisingly moose-free up until I totaled my car attempting not to hitone.”

A moment later, Emmett’s door opens a crack and he pokes his head out. “You hit amoose?”

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