Puck Shy (Carolina Comets)

Collin is…strange.

He doesn’t scare me or worry me, and I actually feel very safe in the car with him.

But it hasn’t escaped my notice that he’s definitely hiding something.

I just can’t put my finger on what it is.

The cashier at the gas station kept peeking over at him like he was somebody he knew. Then the guy at the gas pump kept staring at him in wonder.

At first, I figured it was nothing, like maybe he just has one of those familiar faces. But the way he keeps avoiding answering any personal questions has me suspecting otherwise.

Either way, it’s really none of my business. As long as we get to our destination and he doesn’t murder me, I’m calling it a win.

Besides, it’s not like I’ll ever see the guy again after tonight.

“Dip me,” he says, holding up a chicken nugget.

We’ve been back on the road for an hour now, and I have no idea how he’s still hungry after blazing through two cheeseburgers, half of my fries, and a pickled sausage that did not go over well with him.

“How the hell are you still eating?”

“I’m a growing boy,” he answers me. “And besides, I need to get the taste of pickled sausage out of my mouth.” He grimaces. “Now dip me, woman.”

I roll my eyes and hold up a cup of ketchup. He dunks his nugget in it, the same thing we’ve been doing for the last ten minutes, and pops it into his mouth in one bite. He demands a dip, and I provide it.

“I find it completely disgusting that you’re eating chicken nuggets with ketchup when there are so many other amazing sauces to be dipping them in.”

He swallows his bite, and it’s kind of ridiculous of me to be impressed that a guy is swallowing his food before talking. “Ketchup is the king of condiments. It’s the first one we all try as children. If you think just because I’m an almost-thirty-year-old man I am not going to still have a love affair with ketchup, you’re dead wrong.”

So he’s almost thirty, huh.

“I’m twenty-seven, by the way,” he says like he can hear my thoughts. Then he grabs another chicken nugget. “Dip me.”

Our arms brush as he returns his hands to the steering wheel, and I try to ignore it just like I’ve been trying to ignore it this whole time.

“Twenty-four,” I answer his unasked question.

“Huh. A twenty-four-year-old successful woman who runs her own business. Nice.”

He pops his nugget into his mouth.

“A twenty-seven-year-old from Kansas who now works in North Carolina at some mysterious corporation.”

I see the muscles in his jaw jump.

Yeah, so I’m digging for information—big deal. The dude is a steel trap, and I’m curious.

“Sports industry,” he says after several quiet beats.

That’s the big secret? Sports?

When I don’t say anything, he peeks over at me.

“I work in the sports industry.”

“Are you mad because I said I don’t like sports? Because I was just joking about you talking my ear off about them. I really don’t care if sports are your thing. They just aren’t mine.”

“So you don’t watch any sports? Not even with your boyfriend?”

I laugh at his completely obvious way of asking if I have a boyfriend. “No boyfriend. I am very single. Thank you for the reminder. Though you could have just outright asked me.”

“Good.”

I lift my brow. “Good that I don’t have a boyfriend?”

Is he…interested?

“Yeah. Don’t want to get you in trouble or anything.”

Oh.

“If I had a boyfriend who got pissed about me helping a stranger, I wouldn’t want him to be my boyfriend anymore.”

“To be fair, I’d be pissed as hell if my girlfriend was dumb enough to let some random weirdo into her car.”

“Dumb, huh?”

“Completely.”

He doesn’t look the least bit sorry for saying it, and I don’t entirely blame him. It was dumb. So stupid.

But Collin doesn’t scare me.

My gut is telling me I can trust him, and my gut has never been wrong before.

“Well, your girlfriend doesn’t have to worry about me hitting on you.”

“No, she just has to worry about you trying to hit me.” I groan, and he chuckles. “And you could have just outright asked me, you know.” He smirks, feeling proud of throwing my words back at me. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Good.”

“Good?” he echoes.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

Another smirk.

I ignore the way it makes my heart race a little faster.

“To answer your question, no, I don’t watch any sports. I couldn’t tell you a thing about them. I used to watch some with my dad, but I only did that to spend time with him.” I swallow thickly, not wanting to get into the sad tale of how I used to watch games with my father, but now that he’s dead, it doesn’t feel the same. He’ll give me that pitying look everyone does, and I really don’t want that from him. “It didn’t stick though. I gave it up.”

“What does he like to watch?”

“Football.” His head bobs at my answer. “But don’t go getting ideas about talking sports all of a sudden. I’ve already warned you about my penchant to fall asleep when they’re discussed.”

He grins. “Fine. But can I just say that experiencing live games is so different from watching it on your television?”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it.

Instead, he holds up another chicken nugget. “You gonna dip me or what?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re needy?”

“Woman…” he growls, and I laugh, giving him his precious ketchup.

When I open my eyes, we’re on the bridge leading into the downtown area.

I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point during the drive, I must have rested my head against the window and passed out.

I shift in my seat, my back screaming at me for sitting in the same position for so long. My new blanket is wrapped around me, though I don’t remember doing that myself.

Oh hell.

How stupid can I be for falling asleep? Anything could have happened to me. He could have driven me to his secret lair and kidnapped me forever. Or worse.

I am such an idiot.

“Hey,” Collin says softly. “You’re up.”

I brush my hair out of my eyes, wipe at the drool that’s dried on my face, and then peek over at him.

“You fell asleep,” he explains.

“Gee, thanks for that astute observation.”

His eyes narrow. “Someone’s cranky when they wake up. And for the record, I don’t have a lair.”

Oh shit. I must have been talking out loud. “I’m only cranky when I wake up next to strangers who have kidnapped me in the middle of the night.”

“Well, if you hadn’t fallen asleep, you’d know there was a bad accident and we got rerouted. It’s just after midnight.”

“It added that much time to the trip?”

“That traffic was a bitch.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw as he yawns. “My fucking back is killing me after all that.”

“Wait—I thought you were going to Jonesville?”

He winces, peeking over at me. “I lied. I didn’t want you to know where I was really going until I knew you weren’t some psycho.”

“Oh my god. Almost hit a guy with your car one time and suddenly you’re some psycho.”

I’m not mad. Not really. It was honestly probably a smart move and what I should have done.

I’m going to chalk all my bad decisions up to being in shock over almost ending someone’s life.

“I figured I’d let you sleep so you can be rested to get to where you’re going. I don’t know how long your drive is, but I’m just a few blocks up here.”

Does he live downtown?

That’s…not cheap. At all.

He must make a killing doing whatever it is he does. His car wasn’t anything flashy, but maybe it’s a sentimental thing?

I shake my head. Whatever. I shouldn’t be judging him right now.

Collin drives a few more blocks before expertly parallel-parking the car right in front of a building where the rent is easily twice what mine is.

He shuts the engine off, and uncomfortable silence falls over us.

It’s the first time since we’ve been in the same car that I’ve felt this way. This sense of…uncertainty. The ride with him has been surprisingly easy. Natural.

But this moment?

It feels like climbing a hill with no end in sight.

After what feels like hours, Collin clears his throat, the loud sound nearly making me jump.

“Well, this is me,” he says lamely.

“Right.”

I push the door open, and he follows suit.

We meet at the back of the car, and I watch in silence as he pulls his bags from the trunk.

I don’t know what to say to him. You’re welcome? Should I apologize again?

Am I supposed to give him my number? Or ask for his?

No. That’s stupid. This was just one of those once-in-a-lifetime things you keep in your back pocket for a good story at a bonfire.

Loaded down with his bags, he’s standing close, and even though I’ve been sitting next to him for hours now, this somehow feels different.

There’s a thread between us, and I can’t help it when I step closer to him, as if I’m being pulled.

The streetlights illuminate him with the harshest shadows yet somehow he still looks good.

His hat is flipped backward again, and those eyes of his—a color I still can’t discern—are peering down at me with hesitancy. His tongue pokes out to lick at his bottom lip.

My eyes track the movement, breath catching.

And I hold it, waiting.

Waiting.

Wanting.

I…I think I want him to kiss me.

He leans closer, and I push onto my tiptoes, ready. Eager.

A loud wail comes from just up the street, and we jump away like we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t.

An ambulance screams down the road and the moment is broken.

“Uh, listen, Harper, I—”

I wave my hand, taking a step back. “Let’s not suddenly make this awkward, okay?”

He laughs. “Fair enough.” He sticks his hand out to me. “Thanks for not killing me.”

I clasp his hand and try to ignore the warmth spreading through me. “Thank you for not kidnapping me.”

“I would gladly not kidnap you any time.”

I roll my eyes at his stupid joke and pull my hand away, tucking it into my pocket as that awkward silence returns.

“Well…” I say, rocking back on my heels. “I better get going before it gets any later.”

“Right.” He nods, then steps back, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Night, Harper.”

“Goodbye, Collin.”

I don’t look back at him as I climb into my car and pull back onto the street.

But somehow, I know he’s watching me even as my taillights disappear from view.