Puck Shy (Carolina Comets)

You never realize how long a mile is until you’re sitting in silence with a stranger you just almost hit with your car.

I am now well aware of just how much it feels like forever as the quiet stretches between us.

Holy shit. I can’t believe I almost hit someone.

I really can’t believe that same someone is now sitting in my passenger seat.

And I lied to him.

There’s no such thing as the Ghostly Drifter.

I was totally screwing around with my stereo, trying to get my auxiliary cord to sit right so my podcast would stop cutting out. But making up some story felt better than admitting I was one of those assholes who play with their phone while they’re driving.

I steal a glance over at him.

He’s tall, so tall that when he folded himself into the car, his knees were against the dash. He leaned the seat back so his head wasn’t brushing the ceiling too. His shoulders are wide, and he’s taking up every inch of his side of the car and some of mine.

He’s turned his baseball cap forward, and I’m a little disappointed by the way it covers his eyes. They’re a bright green, and I’m sad I won’t ever get to see them in the daylight because I’m betting the color is gorgeous.

His hands are big too as they rest on his jean-clad thighs. They’re veiny, but not in that way that’s too veiny. More in the way that a nurse would look at hands and think, Wow. That’s some serious nurse porn right there.

I’m trapped in this car with this gorgeous man who smells like leather and something else I can’t quite place my finger on.

He’s sitting so still it’s making me uncomfortable.

“So, how far up here is your car?” I shift around, trying to make conversation.

“I think a mile or so. Do you mind if we stop at it real quick? I need to grab my bags.” He huffs out a laugh that contains zero humor. “I really thought I was going to be able to walk to a service station or something and get this taken care of tonight, but that’s clearly not going to happen.”

It really wasn’t.

I didn’t lie when I told him we’re practically in a dead zone for cell service.

I’ve driven through these parts enough times in the last three years to know that. I just came from spending the weekend at my mom’s to celebrate my sister’s engagement to her lawyer fiancé.

Something my mom made sure to bring up every second of the trip.

“I just don’t understand why you don’t settle down, Harper.”

“You should find a successful man like your sister, Harper.”

“You’re scaring off suitors with all those creepy things you make, Harper.”

She means well. I know she does.

But when you watch your parents love each other for sixteen years and then discover that the reason your father died suddenly in a car crash was because he was on his way to visit his mistress…

Well, it kind of screws with you and puts you off relationships.

“Are you from around here?” Collin’s deep rumble pulls me from my thoughts.

“Sort of. I’m from Howardsville, but I’ve lived in Bartlett since I graduated college.”

“What’s with all the villes in this area? I swear every city ends in ville.”

I laugh. “I thought I was the only person who ever noticed that. It drives me nuts. It’s confusing.” I glance at him. “Are you from here?”

He takes his time answering but finally says, “No. I’m from Kansas.”

“Really? What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Work.” He doesn’t elaborate, just points up the road. “My car is just over this hill.”

A wave of relief flows through me when we reach the top and it’s sitting on the side of the road.

At least he wasn’t lying about being stranded. That makes me feel marginally better about letting a strange man into my car.

I wasn’t lying when I said he doesn’t seem like the dangerous type. Maybe that’s just me being hopeful and naive, but I’m generally good at reading people.

I pull to a stop behind his SUV. It’s not as nice as I expected it to be. He’s only wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but even I have enough fashion sense to see that neither item cost less than a hundred dollars.

Which is insane. I think my entire outfit cost me ten. I love a good clearance rack.

“I’ll be right back,” he says quietly, but he doesn’t make any move to exit the car.

I glance over to find him staring at me expectantly, like he’s waiting for confirmation that I’m not going to leave him on the side of the road or something.

“I’ll be here,” I say reassuringly, trying to pretend I don’t love the way the dome light casts shadows across his face. I kill the engine to prove to him I’m not going to leave.

He gives me a single nod, then pushes the door open. He jogs to the vehicle and opens the back door. There’s not much, a few bags.

One of them is massive and looks like it weighs nearly half of me, but he slings it over his shoulder with zero apparent effort.

He grabs the other two, then pushes the back door closed with his elbow.

I pop my trunk and climb out of the car to meet him.

He’s staring down at the Carolina Comets sticker on the bumper, and I wonder if I offended him by not being a fan of hockey. It’s not like I’m anti-sports or anything, they just don’t exactly get my nipples hard.

I pause just as I’m about to lift the trunk, remembering what I have in there. I pin him with a glare that I hope is fierce. “Do not judge me for the contents of my trunk.”

“As long as it’s not a body, I think we’re good.”

When I wince—because it’s not a body per se—he arches a dark brow but doesn’t say anything.

Huh. Awfully trusting.

I lift the trunk and hold my breath, waiting for his reaction.

He laughs, and it’s a deep, throaty sound that I’m going to pretend I don’t find attractive.

“Hey! I said not to judge me.”

“I didn’t promise not to.” He slides his eyes toward my trunk. “You going to move these creepy-as-fuck things or what?”

“They are not creepy!” I reach into the trunk to grab a box of dolls to move to the backseat. “Well, fine. They are kind of creepy. But that’s the point of them.”

“Please tell me you don’t collect these.”

“For personal use? No. But I do use them to make decor.”

“You…make stuff with these?”

I nod as I pull open the back passenger door. “I have a store online that specializes in these. I make and sell other stuff too, but these always make a big profit, usually because I can pick them up so cheap.”

I shove the box across the backseat to my side.

“What do you make out of them?” he asks when I reemerge to grab the other box.

“All kinds of stuff. Pretty much anything creepy. I’ll usually paint them to look dead or like zombies. Sometimes I’ll use them as a base to make baby versions of popular horror icons, like Michael or Jason or Freddy.”

“That is…” I wait for him to make the same face a lot of people do. “Well, it’s pretty fucking awesome.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah. I love old-school horror films like that. They don’t make them like they used to, that’s for sure.”

“Right? They aren’t even scary anymore, just rely on jump scares you can see coming from a mile away.”

I grunt when I grab the second box so he can drop his stuff into the trunk. It’s much heavier than the first, and I can already feel sweat beginning to form on the back of my neck. I’m sure I look real attractive right now.

“Totally not scary.” He sets his three bags in the trunk, then grabs the box of doll parts from my hands. I want to protest, but something tells me he wouldn’t let me carry it anyway. “Did you see the one with the ghost hunters?”

“The ones who turned out to be dead the whole time?”

“Yeah.”

He rolls his eyes, then disappears into the backseat momentarily. When he reappears, he places his arms on the hood of the car and runs his hand over the stubble that’s lining his sharp jaw. Shit, when did that move become hot?

“What about the one with the family who moved into the farmhouse and they ended up being stalked by the farmhand who showed up literally every time something creepy happened and they never put two and two together?”

“That one had me raging at the screen. Like, come on! First, why do you move into a house where a double murder happened and then act all surprised when spooky stuff starts taking place? Second, he was literally there every time! It was obviously him!”

He chuckles. “So awful.”

We grow quiet, the faint sounds of insects beginning to come to life in the nearby forest.

Even though we’re not speaking, I don’t feel like I need to fill the silence. It’s weird how easy it is to talk to him, but I’m also thankful because we have a solid four hours ahead of us.

“So, uh, is that everything you need from your car?”

He nods instead of answering, then reaches his hand across the hood.

“What?”

“Keys.”

“What? No way.”

“Yes way,” he says as he pushes off the car and comes around to my side. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me, and I have to tip my head back to look at his face. “I saw the way you were squinting just driving to my car. You’re blind as fuck. You almost hit me when there was still light outside. We’re about half an hour from there being none at all, and I’d really like to get to where I’m going in one piece.”

I grit my teeth because he’s not wrong.

I am blind as fuck at night. It’s why I was so annoyed when my mom insisted we go for lunch with my sister this afternoon. It ran long just like I knew it would and put me a good two hours behind when I wanted to leave to avoid driving at night.

“You can trust me, Harper.”

I stare up at him, and my mouth goes dry.

Can I trust him?

I don’t know why I’m hesitating all of a sudden, why just now my nerves are on edge.

Maybe it’s the reality that I’m about to drive multiple hours with someone I don’t know sitting beside me. Someone insanely attractive on top of it.

Or maybe it’s that handing him my keys is like handing over my life to him.

I drop them into his outstretched hand. “If you wreck my car, I swear, I’ll—”

“Shoot me with your gun?”

“Yes!”

That part I didn’t lie about. I do have a gun.

“Right,” he says, not looking the least bit threatened. “Duly noted. Let’s get on the road, then.”

I march over to the passenger side and climb into my car. It feels weird being on this side of the vehicle, and not just because I have to pull the seat way up.

The car isn’t much to most people, but it’s mine and it’s completely paid for, which is a big bonus in my eyes. I wanted something reliable, and this has proved to be just that.

Granted, I didn’t think it was that small when I bought it, but I know it just feels that way now because of Collin taking up most of the room.

I watch the way his muscles jump as he navigates us back onto the road. He looks calm and collected—and a lot more confident driving than I did as night falls around us.

Several miles pass before either of us speaks.

“Do you do it full-time?”

My brows pinch together at his question, and he peeks over at me when I don’t answer right away.

“The dolls,” he clarifies. “Is that what you do full-time?”

I nod. “It is. I went to school for art and found I had a knack for creating props and such.”

“Wouldn’t that be a job more suited for California? Hollywood and such?”

“Ever heard of the internet?” I cringe at the sarcasm that drips from my words. “Sorry. I’m not exactly good with people, and sometimes my words come out a little harsher than I intend.”

“I mean, my first impression of you was you trying to run me over. Little hard to top that at this point.”

Another cringe. “Sorry.”

He laughs. “All good. You’re more than making up for it by giving me a ride. My co—boss would probably have my ass for getting in a car with someone I don’t know, but I bet he’d be even more pissed if I was roadkill.”

“I doubt you would have died. I wasn’t even going that fast.”

He gives me a look that clearly says I’m full of shit before returning his gaze to the road.

“Fine.” I huff. “So you’d maybe be a little dead. I’m really glad I didn’t kill you though. That would have looked so bad for my business.”

“Yes, your business being in jeopardy was my biggest concern too.”

A smile tugs at his lips.

Maybe my surprise road trip buddy won’t be so bad after all.