Page 47 of Pucked Up

“Just…don’t take his flirting seriously,” Ben said. He grabbed his iced tea and took a long drink. “Hewillfuck you if you show any interest in him. Then you’ll feel things, and he won’t. It ends ugly.”

I almost choked on my own tongue. “Trust me, that’s not going to happen.”

“Listen, even if you are grieving,” Journey said, “if you have even a shred of desire for other men—which obviously you do—you will be tempted. He’s like a goddamn shark sensing blood in the water, okay? He goes right for the dick.” He made a motion like two jaws snapping together with his hands.

I reared back. “Have you both?—”

“Let’s not?—”

“We don’t have to—” they said at the same time.

Ben cleared his throat. “My point is, I’m happy to sign off on him missing whatever game might be the same weekend, and I’m happy to help provide funds for transportation or whatever since clearly he’s not driving. But I’d like you to be careful. He’s an amazing friend so long as you don’t let him cross the line.”

“Trust me. I’m not in danger of that,” I told them both. I doubted anyone could stir my cock besides Boden, and even he had been a surprise to me. At least with how fiercely I wanted him.

“Is it the dead husband thing?” Journey asked.

“Journey,” Ben hissed.

I waved my hand dismissively. “No, no. I’ve definitely had a lover or two since Reid.”

Journey stared at me, and then his eyes went wide. “Oh, you’re fucking someone now. Who is it? It’s a small town. People will find out.”

My face flamed so hotly I thought for a moment I was going to faint. “Euh…”

“For the love of—just leave him alone,” Ben said, shoving Journey back with his elbow. “Let someone have a few secrets around here.”

Journey looked annoyed, but he offered me an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It gets boring in tiny towns.”

If anyone understood that, it was me. But that didn’t mean I was going to tell him the truth. I mimed zipping my lips, and as disappointed as Journey looked, he let it go. I liked him for that alone.

The bill came shortly after, and in spite of their protests, I paid. “I meant to ask you to lunch to discuss the trip anyway.”

Ben bit his lip, then said, “Can we hang out again?”

“Oh.” That was a rare question. Most people found me dull and dry. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not hitting on you or anything.”

I burst into laughter. I didn’t mean to, but I wondered how often the poor bastard’s offer for friendship was misinterpreted. That had to be what happened between him and Micah.

“Yeah, I know. I’m a loser.” He started to reach for his dog’s harness, so I touched his wrist to stop him.

“You’re not. I’d love to get together again. I don’thave a lot of friends. I’m not the most exciting person, and people get pretty disappointed when they realize I’m not some suave Frenchman with a dozen sexy stories of fucking models and…I don’t know. Whatever other people think Parisians do.” They both stared at me. “I’m not Parisian.”

It was obvious that meant nothing to them, but Journey grinned, and Ben settled back in his seat, looking relieved. “We do poker a couple times a month,” Journey said. “Movie nights when the theater does audio captions, which happens, like, twice a year.”

“It’s annoying, but—” Ben started to add.

“No,” I told them quickly. “That sounds nice. My therapist would want me to get out. The only person I talk to besides my team is my husband’s brother, and he can’t stand me.”

“Sounds like you know a lot of people with very bad judgment,” Ben said as he reached for his dog again. This time, I didn’t stop him. He stood and commanded his dog up, then stretched one arm above his head. “Shoot me a text when you’re free, yeah?”

“And me,” Journey said, sounding like he didn’t want to be left out. “If you get bored of whatever you’ve got going on in your sheets, I can introduce you to a few people. No hockey guys, of course.”

“Of course,” I said. My words felt like they were stuck in the back of my throat.

How long would these friends last if they knew the truth?

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