Puck One Night Stands: a grumpy-sunshine, best friend’s brother hockey rom com (Chicago Racketeers Book 1)

“OKAY, WHAT IS GOING ON?” Luna demands of me as she whips a mostly empty coffee mug away from our only customer, a regular named Harold who is still doing his crossword puzzle, his plate empty. He devoured his pain au chocolat well over an hour ago.

He’s just lingering now, like he does every weekday. He’s in his seventies and is bored since his dog, Patsy, passed away six months ago.

“Hey,” he protests. “I was still drinking that.”

“It was cold dregs, Harold,” Luna tells him. “Time to go home and feed your cat. It’s almost eleven.”

It’s more like ten thirty. Harold leaves every day at eleven on the nose to saunter home. But Luna is having none of it today.

His bushy gray eyebrows lift. “Got a hot date or something?”

“Girl talk,” she tells him grimly. She jabs a finger at me. “This one has some explaining to do.”

“Me?” I ask, innocently, putting a hand to my chest. I can already feel my face heating up. Damn Irish skin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Then I yawn, and I’m forced to cover my mouth with my hand, embarrassed.

I was up late last night between the writing, the texting with Michael, the self-love, and the repeated tossing and turning afterward as I replayed in my head over and over both Crew and Michael’s kisses. And Nathan’s whatever-the-hell that was in his office. Plus, Nathan’s bare chest and abs. Those are emblazoned on my brain like a brand.

I slept in the shirt he gave me. While I used my vibrator and thought about Crew, Michael, and Nathan, all doing deliciously dirty things to me. All at once. Together. It took a while, obviously.

Yet, in spite of getting almost no sleep, I’m bouncing with energy. I’ve been bustling around the shop all morning, dusting and rearranging shelves, and running my hand over every velvet chair with a happy sigh, and grinning with every pass by the pastry cases. The cookies and eclairs taunt me with hot reminders of Michael’s finger in my mouth, of those hot grinding kisses, of his reassurance that I’m a good writer.

Earlier, I did an impromptu dance with the Swiffer around the bookrack Michael pressed me against. That’s how giddy I am.

“Your aura is red,” Luna says pointedly. “Your aura is never red.”

That alarms me. “Is that bad?” I ask. Maybe that’s why three different men flirted aggressively with me last night and two kissed me. Maybe this is a fluke. A full moon phenomenon, or the planets aligning, or my body is throwing off sexual energy in an attempt to stave off my biological clock.

Which is ridiculous. I’m twenty-four.

But I’m pretty sure I’ll be devastated if all this virile male attention evaporates as quickly as it appeared.

“Red means energetic and fiery,” she says. “Bye, Harold. See you Monday.”

Poor Harold stands up, but he doesn’t look offended. He eyes me. “You do look a little red. Maybe you have a fever. I’m outta here. I can’t get sick. I’m immunocompromised.”

He’s gone as fast as he can with a bad hip. I shake my head at Luna. “You are out of your mind. He’s basically our best customer.”

“Harold will be back. He loves my cappuccinos.” Luna comes over to me and puts her hands on my arms, giving me a shake. It makes all her bangle bracelets clatter and her chandelier earrings sway riotously. “What happened last night? I’m dying here. Tell me everything.”

“Is a red aura a bad thing?” I ask cautiously. “You seem really agitated about it.”

“No, not at all.” She waves that off. “And I’m only agitated because I’m so happy you’re finally getting out there again! You deserve it. You need it. You know how much I fucking hate Brandon Fredricks and what he did to you. That asshole kept you from dating for two and a half years! And you haven’t gotten laid in even longer! Last night is like a breakthrough!”

I shudder at the mention of my ex. I met Brandon in my sophomore sociology class. He was cute and we had instant chemistry. And he was bossy. That’s what I thought I wanted.

That is what you want, I correct myself. But you want good bossy. Caring bossy. Not controlling Brandon bossy.

I’d realized through reading spicier and spicier romance that I wanted to be bossed around in the bedroom. What I hadn’t quite figured out yet when I’d met Brandon was that not every likes-to-be-in-control guy was good at bedroom bossy.

Brandon wasn’t a loving, caring, sexually dominant man who would understand the trust and respect it took to truly have a woman be submissive to him sexually.

He was just an asshole.

I hate when you wear skirts like that. You don’t need to show everything off to all the other guys, Dani.

I don’t ever want to see you talking to Marcus or Landon again, do you hear me?

Where were you last night when I tried to call you? You need to pick up when I call, Dani.

An asshole who also shamed me about my fantasies. Like wanting to be a romance writer.

And like my suggestion of using toys together.

I don’t do it for you? You think I need help? Thanks a lot, that’s a real turn-on.

Or like my fantasy of him binding my hands and blindfolding me.

What the hell is wrong with you? You want me to force you? How do you think that makes me feel? You should want to do this. Why can’t we just do it like normal people?

And definitely like my ultimate fantasy of being with more than one man at a time.

No real man wants to share. Jesus, Dani.

I could still remember the look of shock and disgust on his face.

Sure, maybe at some crazy sex party with some slut they’re all just messing with, but why would you think I’d want to be with some girl who’d pass herself around like that? There’s no way I could watch some other guy fuck you! Holy shit. What guy could? He’d gotten out of bed and stomped to the door.

I’d tried to explain that this desire didn’t mean I didn’t love him. I’d tried to explain that sex with multiple partners wasn’t dirty or wrong, but he wasn’t listening. I’d instantly realized things were over between us.

I was hurt and angry for about a month.

And then…a little part of me started to wonder if he was right. If there was something wrong with me. If all of that really just belonged in books. And I started to feel humiliated.

“Tell me about every delicious second you spent with Hot Doc,” Luna urges.

I take a deep breath and focus on the woman who was my biggest supporter during that time. I told her everything Brandon said, and Luna had been ready to go to his house and take a butcher knife to his dick.

She gave me pep talks. She assured me that sexual fantasies are normal and that it was all Brandon’s problem, not mine. She insisted that I would definitely have a chance to have an amazing sexual experience with multiple guys. I just needed to find the right guys.

But I’ve barely dated in the past three years, and I haven’t had sex at all. Not even with one guy.

Unless you count my imagination and dreams. Because those are insanely hot.

“Here. Just read about it. Just replace Sturgeon with Michael and Divine with me.” I find the doc on the app on my phone. I uploaded it this morning and I already have forty views and one positive comment.

Now THAT’S more like it!!!! Kiss me, Sturgeon!!

Michael’s advice and ahem, inspiration, clearly worked.

The bell rings over the door. Luna takes my phone as I turn and see a delivery man. We’re not expecting any packages, but I go over and greet him with a bright smile. “Hi!”

He’s not having it. He just shoves a box at me and says, “Sign here.”

“Sure!” Surprised at how heavy the small box is, I juggle it, take the stylus and sign my name with a flourish on his electronic box. I glance at the label and see it’s for me.

Curious, I glance over at the return address. It’s from Frosty’s, my favorite ice cream shop in Franklin, Indiana, my hometown. What on earth? I definitely didn’t order anything from them.

Using scissors behind the cash register, I slice open the box and find packs of dry ice in it. Beneath that is a pint of my favorite flavor, Nutty Buddy. My first confused thought is my parents sent it, but there is no way. The shipping rate on this was hefty, and that is not something they would ever endorse. They would tell me to walk around the corner and grab a scoop at the neighborhood shop.

There’s a small white envelope, so I pull it out and remove the card.

Danielle,

I want to see you tonight.

Nathan Armstrong

It’s not a question. It’s a command. From Nathan, the billionaire. My whole body is suddenly so flushed with intense heat, it’s a wonder I don’t melt the ice cream pint I’m holding into a puddle of sticky liquid.

Now there is a guy who could do bossy in the bedroom right.

A tiny corner of my brain flashes back to Rina, the girl who lived down the hall from Luna and me our junior year of college. One night we’d gotten drunk and started talking about men, sex, and fantasies. I’d admitted that I thought I was a submissive and would love to meet a true dom, someone who could boss me around in bed while also cherishing me and taking care of me. Rina had whirled on me and launched into a ten minute long rant about how being submissive in any way to a man set the feminist movement back fifty years and why would I ever let a man tell me what to do and didn’t I think that having agency over my own body and life was important?

I’d started crying, Luna had started arguing with her, Rina had stomped out, and…yeah, I was still thinking about that almost two years later too. Twice I’d brought up my fantasies and twice someone I cared about stomped out.

Ugh. I know that I’m not setting any movements back. I want to be independent and make my own decisions in every other way. But when it comes to sex, I find the idea of a man who knows me, who knows my body and who makes my pleasure his number one goal, who wants to worship me and ensure that I’m getting exactly what I need so fucking…

“Dani!”

I jump and spin at Luna’s exclamation. I clutch the ice cream to my chest. “What?”

“This is amazing! Holy shit! This is what happened with Hot Doc?”

Oh, right, the kiss. I nod. “Exactly what happened. Except the last line. He pulled back and made me go upstairs and write. He didn’t say that part about anticipation making things sweeter. I added that part.” I pause. “But I guess I do believe that.”

Luna just stares at me. Then slowly her mouth curls into a grin. “Oh. My. God.”

“I know.” And I do. I know. I’m already all worked up again and thinking about my vibrator.

“What’s that?” Luna notices the pint of ice cream.

I look down. “Ice cream. From Nathan. From Indiana.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Who’s Nathan from Indiana?” She gives me a confused look.

I shake my head. “No. Nathan from the Racketeers.”

She frowns. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Oh, right. Luna doesn’t know about Nathan or the visit to his office or anything that happened after she left me in that hallway outside the Racketeers locker room.

I take a deep breath. “The guy who gave us the VIP tickets and my T-shirt last night was actually Nathan Armstrong. The–”

“Nathan Armstrong?” Luna interrupts. “As in the owner of the Racketeers? The one who wanted your phone number from Crew?”

I nod.

“Why is Nathan Fucking Armstrong sending you ice cream?” Now she crosses her arms and looks at me like, ‘Young lady, you better start talking faster.’

“He saw me fall and wanted to be sure I was okay. So he asked a security guard to bring me up to his office.” I tell her the rest of the story about all of us meeting in Nathan’s office, and how Crew had to stay behind, and how Michael brought me home. Then I gesture toward the box with the dry ice. “And now he sent me my favorite ice cream from home.”

“You’ve told him where you’re from and what your favorite ice cream is while you were in his office?”

I shake my head. “No. I have no idea how he knows that.”

Luna’s eyes suddenly widen. She looks down at my phone and her fingers start flying over the screen. Then she stops, nods, and holds it up for me to see.

It’s a photo of her and me on social media. We’re in Franklin, at the ice cream shop, grinning with huge bowls of ice cream in front of us. The caption says “my best friend and my favorite ice cream! Perfect day!”

My eyes widen right along with Luna’s.

She scrolls up three photos and shows me again. This time it’s me eating a cone from the shop around the corner here in Chicago. The caption reads, “Not Nutty Buddy from Frosty’s, but still pretty good.”

I meet her gaze. Her eyebrows are arched.

“He’s…sweet,” I say.

“He’s a stalker,” she replies.

“He’s a hot stalker who sends me ice cream,” I say with a shrug. Then I grin.

“Oh my God.” She points a finger at my nose. “You like him.”

“He asked me out tonight.” Actually he told me to go out with him, but I don’t think Nathan asks people for things. He just demands them. And that makes a little shiver of heat slide through my body.

“You do. You like him. Oh, my God! Both him and the Hot Doc!”

Just then the little bell over the door to the bookshop jingles and we both turn.

It’s a guy with shaggy blond hair, wearing a Racketeers polo and khakis, carrying a bright yellow gift bag.

What is this about?

“Hi, can I help you?” Luna asks. She steps in front of me.

Oh, boy, Luna is getting a little Mama Bear on me now.

“I’m looking for Dani Larkin,” the guy says. “I’m supposed to deliver something to her and pick something up?”

“Who sent you?” Luna’s eyes are narrowed.

“Um… Dr. Hughes,” the kid says.

“I’m Dani.” I step around Luna and give her an eye roll.

“Oh, hey. I’m Austin. I work for Dr. Hughes. He said to tell you that he had a patient emergency come up and he’s really sorry he couldn’t bring these over himself.” He hands me the gift bag. I pull out the white, green, and blue tissue paper, grinning even before I know what’s inside.

I love presents, what can I say? And I’m getting two today from two different very hot men who are, for whatever reason, interested in me. Best. Day. Ever.

Inside are my keys, that Michael said he would return and a mug. I pull it out. It says Future Bestselling Author. I melt. I absolutely melt. My eyes even sting a little. God, that man…

In addition, the mug is filled with candy kisses.

Oh my God.

Luna is shaking her head when I turn back. “Giirrrl…”

“I know.” I clutch the mug to my chest right beside the ice cream.

“Uh,” Austin says. “He also said to be sure to pick up the book you were going to pick out for him.”

The romance novel. I grin. “Sure. It’s right over here.”

I head for the romance section and straight for my favorite spicy novel. I pull One Night In Paris from the shelf and hand it to Austin.

“Tell him…” Nope, I want to write him a note. “Just a second.” I head back to the front counter, put my new mug and my ice cream down, and pull out a sticky note. I write quickly.

I hope you enjoy the ending to this one better than the one I had last night.

xo D

I stick to the inside page and hand the book to Austin. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing.”

As soon as the door bumps shut behind him, Luna spins to face me. “Okay, keep talking. I need to know everything.”

I keep telling her about last night. I tell her more about Nathan’s office and how all three of the guys acted and what they said, how Michael insisted on taking me home, the whole scene in front of the store, our talk in the bakery, him reading my story, and… well, she read about the kiss.

All I leave out is about her brother declaring that I’m not his girlfriend…yet.

“So what are you going to do–”

Luna is cut off by the bell jingling again.

She gives a little frustrated groan as we both turn to greet…

Crew.

“Hey, ladies!”

I’m speechless. I’m also immediately hot and tingly.

And I like it. A lot.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Luna asks. “And why is your hair wet?”

“Because I just washed it in the shower,” he says, giving me a she’s not very bright look. “How are you today, Dani?” he asks, sauntering up to me with a charming grin. “Sleep well?”

Oh God. It’s like he knows.

Which is ridiculous and impossible. He can’t know anything about what I did and with who and by myself afterward.

“Fine. Great. Absolutely amazing. Like a baby,” I babble. “You?”

“I didn’t sleep much. I had a great game last night and I got to steal you away from both your dumb date and Sammy the Malamute. I was on a real high.” He reaches out and flicks a finger over the delicate necklace in the shape of a quill I’m wearing. “That’s pretty.”

The tip of his finger barely brushes over my skin, but I still feel a tingling sensation fire up in my core. I’m glad I wore another low neckline today. “Thanks,” I whisper.

Crew is dressed in joggers and a hoodie, his damp hair curling enticingly around his strong jawline. He’s so damn cute. Yet also hot and muscular and mouthwatering. His dimples are on full display. He’s carrying a bag.

“For you,” he says, holding it up with a flourish.

“Oh, Jesus H. Christ,” is Luna’s opinion.

“You okay, sis?” Crew asks, leaning his elbow on the counter.

“I’m annoyed.”

“With me?” He actually bats his eyelashes at her.

“Constantly, yes,” she informs him. “And with the fact that I put out last night and have no ice cream or inspirational mugs to show for it.”

Crew blinks at her. “Um… people get those things for putting out?”

She points to my ice cream and inspirational mug.

One of his eyebrows arches. “What are those?”

“Gifts,” I squeak. I’m trying not to feel guilty about them. Why would I feel guilty?

“From?” he asks.

“Michael and Nathan.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but he nods. “I see.” He reaches into the bag he carried in and pulls out what looks like a shirt. Then he shakes it out.

It’s a Racketeers hockey jersey.

With a huge number 17 on it.

And McNeill across the back.

Oh…

“Of course,” Luna mutters.

I look at her. “Of course what?”

“If you’re going to pee on someone to mark your territory, you want everyone to know that you did it.” Luna shakes her head at her brother. But she looks amused.

I frown. “What?’

“Anyone can give you ice cream and a coffee mug. But that—” she points at the jersey, “Is his name emblazoned across your body.”

Crew is grinning again. I have to assume that he agrees with her assessment.

“I assume you do want to pee on her?” Luna asks Crew.

“I don’t know what kinks you’re into sis,” he says. “But I’m into whatever Dani wants to be into.”

Luna narrows her eyes. “You want her.”

“I absolutely fucking do.”

“This is for me?” I ask.

I know, I know. Stupid question. Of course it’s for me. But I’m still a little discombobulated by these men. I’ve imagined stuff like this. Read about it. Written it. But in real life it’s far more potent.

“Yes.” Crew bunches up the jersey and slips it on over my head.

His fingers glide through my hair and down over my breasts, making contact with my tight nipples over the shirt. He smoothes the front down repeatedly, his large palms shifting past my waistband and coming perilously close to stroking my clit through my jeans. He pats way longer and much more than is necessary and I enjoy every single second of it.

“Okay, I think that’s good,” Luna says. “I’m open-minded and you two dating is great, but I can’t watch you pet her.”

He grins at me. “Perfect.” He turns me so he can see his name across my back. Then pats my ass. “That’s my girl.”

Luna sighs heavily.

I don’t know if Crew’s attention is because he wants to annoy his sister or because he’s really into me, but I’m enjoying it, I can’t deny.

“Gotta go to the gym.” Crew kisses me softly. “I can’t wait to see you in my jersey at the game tonight.”

I simply nod and watch him walk out. Am I going to the game tonight? I have no idea. I don’t know anything other than the fact that I’m delirious with pleasure. I feel like a goddess. The attention from these three men is heady stuff. I don’t know what will come of it, if I’ll be like Cinderella at the ball tonight and as of midnight this will all disappear, but I’m going to enjoy it for now.

Luna clears her throat and I pull my gaze from Crew’s ass. I blush as I meet my best friend’s eyes.

“Who are you and what have you done with the Danielle Larkin of the last few years?” she asks.

I laugh. “I don’t know, but I’m having a really good time.”

Luna finally smiles. “I can tell. And thank God. Also, fuck Brandon Fredricks. I love seeing you happy like this. You’re glowing.”

I put a hand to my cheek. “Am I?”

“You are.” She put a hand on her hip. “So are you actually going to date all three of them?”

I look down at the jersey, then at the ice cream that is probably more the consistency of a milkshake now, then at the mug full of kisses. “I think I am.” I look at her again. “Are you okay with me dating Crew?”

She takes a second to think about it, then nods. “I am. I really am. You’re the best. He’d be lucky to date you.”

I pull her in for a hug. “Thank you.”

“And he definitely knows I’ll kill him if he hurts you. Now I just need to let the other two know.” She blows out a breath as we lean back. “This is going to be a lot of work for me. They better be worth it.”

I feel a little flip in my stomach. It’s strange that I can feel this so quickly, but I already think they will be.

Very worth it.