Page 7 of Puck'n Bully
I stroke a golden curl, then twirl it around my finger. It’s as soft and silky as the noodles he made me last night.
Fuck.
I should not be touching him like this.
I try to hold myself back but my entire body throbs with need.
Unable to control myself any longer, I lean down and gently brush my lips against his, feeling the light touch burn me.
No.I shouldn’t be doing this.
With the last shred of my self-control, I wrench myself away from him.
I can’t risk waking Liam up and asking me a bunch of questions I don’t want to answer. It’s best to leave now and keep this brief encounter as a memory I can always fall back on when things get hard.
Just as I’m about to step away, my gaze falls on a bracelet on Liam’s wrist. Looking closely, I see the band is made up of colorful braided threads. Tiny silver broomsticks and a single orb with wings hang from it.
The band looks old and worn and the charms look tarnished with age. It doesn’t look expensive but something that he’s been wearing for a long time.
With the gentlest move, I start removing the bracelet from his wrist. It takes all my patience as my thick fingers fiddle with the tiny hook.
Finally!I cheer silently as the band falls into my palm. My fingers close over it possessively. I can’t take Liam with me but I can always keep this piece of him close to me.
With one last look at him, I turn away and walk out of the room.
3
Liam
Six months later
I shouldn’t have agreed to take up Joe’s shift at the diner this evening.
No, it’s not because I’m a bad friend. It’s because the Thunder Knights, the town’s beloved hockey team won their first game of the season tonight.
The dining area is packed with loud, boisterous hockey fans who’re all ravenous for food. Wearing the team’s signature colors, gold and royal blue, they’re noisily recounting the highlights of the game and shouting at me from different directions.
It’s so damn chaotic tonight, the orders are piling up faster than I can scribble them all down.
“Hey, is our order ready yet?” someone hollers from a nearby table.
“I’ll go check, Sir,” I mutter, hurrying toward the kitchen.
The kitchen is just as noisy and chaotic as the crowd outside. Smoke and the delicious aroma of grilling meat hit my nostrils as I check the order number on the dishes that were just put on the counter.
Grabbing a massive tray, I pile up all the plates of burgers and glasses of milkshakes and make my way out of the kitchen. Weaving through the crowd, I barely manage to dodge a celebratory high-five between two overexcited kids in hockey jerseys.
A curse gets trapped between my lips as I grit my teeth and place the tray on a table surrounded by young women and their boyfriends. Before I can place the dishes before them, they reach out for the glasses of milkshakes, nearly knocking them in the process.
Were these people watching the game or actually playing it? Everyone is acting like ravenous dogs who haven’t been fed for days!
Picking up the empty platter, I turn around and suddenly collide with a wall. At the same time, a loud roar erupts in the diner as people start shouting and screaming, drowning the clatter of the fallen tray.
Dazed, I blink, trying to figure out what’s happening.
A broad chest comes into my focus. As I slowly raise my gaze, I’m captured by a pair of stormy-gray eyes. A jolt goes through me, kicking up the memory of a thunderous night and a churning sea.
“Pirate,” I gasp, the name falling out of my lips before I can stop myself.
