Pucking Wild: A Reverse Age Gap Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 2)

“Wow,” I say, eyes wide as I take in Rachel and her guys walking through the doors of the event hall.

Jake is at her left, dressed to kill in a sleek black tux, his dark hair oiled back. “I know, we clean up good, right?” he says with a teasing grin.

Ilmari is on her other side, looking like he’s about to go involuntarily donate a kidney. His stupidly handsome bearded face is solemn, his long blond hair combed back into a neat top knot. His tux is charcoal grey and fitted like a dream.

Between them, Rachel flounces up in a slinky black dress with a high neck and a thigh-high slit. Her hair is swept down and to the side in an artful knot, a pair of gorgeous ruby and diamond earrings twinkling in her ears.

“Rach,” I gasp, my gaze locking on the jewels. I think in a past life I was a dragon. I am entirely too infatuated with shiny, pretty things.

“You like?” she says with a smile, turning her head left and right. “They were a wedding present from the guys. I was excited to finally have a reason to wear them.”

I turn my attention to Ilmari. “You still mad at me about all this?”

He just scowls. “I’m not giving the speech.”

“Oh, yes, you are, and it’s gonna be great,” I counter. “And I’ll have you know, we’ve already had several donations pour in this week by people who can’t attend.”

“Whoa, how much?” says Jake.

“Almost enough to match Ilmari’s initial donation,” I reply, hands on my hips.

“You’re—oh, shit—seriously?” Jake turns to Ilmari. “Dude, that’s fucking amazing. This is gonna work.” He spins back to me. “Tess, this was so cool of you to do this for him. This is gonna be great.”

“Of course, it is,” Rachel says with a confident smile. “It’s a Tess event. She doesn’t miss.”

“The food better be good.” Caleb steps around his partners to stand on Ilmari’s other side. He must have been parking their car.

I take him in, eyes wide. “Cay, you look…well, stop-thinking-words hot,” I say with laugh.

He just shrugs. He’s wearing a sleek navy suit, fitted to a T, with his hair slicked back too.

I take in the picture of the four of them together. “Okay, this should be illegal,” I say, gesturing between them. “This level of hotness in one family is totally unfair to the rest of humanity. We’re all out here just doing our best, and then in walk the four of you. It’s criminal.”

“Can you just imagine how cute our kids are gonna be?” Jake teases.

“I told you, we’re not doing child pageants,” Caleb says, glaring at his husband.

“We are gonna do pageants, and we’re putting all the money our babies win into the ‘Buy Jake a Sea-Doo’ fund.”

I laugh. “You guys are multi-millionaires. Just buy the damn Sea-Doo if you want a Sea-Doo.”

Both Jake and Caleb give me a confused look. “What’s the fun in that?” Jake scoffs.

“Oookay,” Rachel says with a laugh, looping her arm in with Jake’s. “Let’s go find the cocktails, yeah? Tess, I’m leaving this one with you,” she adds, tipping up on her toes to kiss Ilmari’s bearded cheek. “Behave,” she says at him.

He just groans, crossing in front of her to come stand by me.

She, Jake, and Caleb slip past us, heading into the event room.

I look up at Ilmari, giving him a little nudge with my elbow. “Wanna go meet the gopher tortoise?”

An hour later, I’m trapped in the middle of a nest of vipers, also known as city council members. Ilmari slipped this particular net fifteen minutes ago, and I’ve just been trapped here with my empty wine glass, pretending to listen as Bill Peterson pulls attention away from tonight’s cause yet again and back onto rezoning for a golf course.

This is such bullshit. None of these old turkeys are even going to donate to Out of the Net. They’re only here because we need them to be on our side when we introduce our joint proposal with the North Florida Land Trust this summer to expand current preserved land areas near a popular sea turtle nesting site.

We’re calling that phase two. Phase one is establishing our organization, building a donor base, and getting our name out there. Phase two is enacting meaningful change and pushing for better protections of sea turtle nesting grounds along the Jacksonville beaches.

But I can kiss ass with the best of them. The Bill Petersons of the world will always stand in the way of progress, so you have to find ways to either charm them or work around them. For now, I’m sticking with charm.

He makes some golf joke that has the other three laughing. I flash the fakest smile you’ve ever seen, using my empty glass as a cover when I raise it to my lips and say, “Oh—well, will you look at that? Empty.” I tap the side of my glass with my manicured fingernail. “Excuse me gentlemen, won’t you?”

They release me with polite nods, and I slip away, hurrying off in the direction of the cash bar. The bottom of my dress swishes around my ankles. It’s a cute, ocean blue number with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a sweetheart bodice. The dress reaches the floor, with knee-high slits to either side. I’ve paired the look with my hair up and some fake, chunky emeralds in my ears.

Rachel meets me halfway to the cash bar, a glass of white wine clutched in either hand. She holds one out to me. “I was on my way to rescue you.”

“My hero,” I sigh, taking a sip of the chilled chardonnay. I glance over my shoulder to make sure I’m far enough away before adding, “Those might be the three dullest men on the planet.”

“But they all sit on the city council,” she says with a shrug, leading the way over to a standing table where Caleb waits, guarding several small plates of food. “I made him get you one of everything,” she says, gesturing at the plates.

“Oh, I can’t eat now,” I say with a wave of my hand. “I need to mingle—”

“Tess—” She grabs my arm to reel me back in. “Look around you, hon. It’s a smash hit. People are already saying we should do this again next year. Take a second, take a breath, and eat some food.”

I glance down at the rainbow array of appetizers. “Ooo, did you try the mac and cheese?” I snatch up the mini serving, complete with panko breadcrumbs browned on top. I couldn’t believe it when the caterer had it on her menu.

“Yeah, it’s delicious,” Rachel replies.

“I ate, like, six of them,” Caleb adds. “What’s in it? Crab?”

“Lobster,” I say, taking a bite. The white cheddar is melty and warm around the noodles, pairing well with the sweet notes of the lobster meat. “Oh god, that’s good.”

My stomach has been growling for the last thirty minutes, but I’ve been too busy to eat. I finish my helping of mac and cheese in four bites, then I pop a couple bacon-wrapped dates before munching on the crudités.

“You all good?” Caleb says at Rachel. “Need anything?”

“We’re good,” she replies, smiling up at him. “Thanks, babe.”

He leans over the table, pecking her lips before wandering off in the direction where all the other Rays have congregated. I glance around him to see Ryan mingling in the mix. He’s been casting me flirty winks and smiles all evening.

“Cay seems to be settling into married life,” I say, nibbling on another carrot stick.

Rachel smiles. “He’s my mystery boy. The other two are so easy to figure out. Ilmari because he does exactly what he wants when he wants, and Jake because he has no filter and speaks his every thought and desire out loud. Cay is harder to read. He makes us all work for it.”

“But you like a challenge,” I say. “If they were all easy to read, you’d get bored.”

“True,” she says, taking a sip of her wine.

“So…that thing about the pageant babies—”

“Not pregnant,” she says, cutting me off. “Are you kidding me? We only just got married. I have four very big personalities living in one house. Five if we count Poseidon—”

“Which we do,” I chime.

“We all need time to settle. I want us to feel like…us,” she says, not finding a better word. “We need to be us before we can be more.”

“But you want more? Eventually, I mean?”

“Oh, yeah,” she says with a smile, and my stupid little heart flutters for her. “We all do. And yes, if and when I spawn, I will name you their godmother,” she adds.

“They’ll need their Auntie Tess,” I tease. “Who else will teach them how to throw such a fabulous soirée?”

She just laughs.

I reach across the table, squeezing her hand. “I’m happy for you, Rach.”

Before she can respond, Poppy St. James comes breezing up to our table in a flouncy, strapless lilac dress, her hair up in a big, blonde bun. “Hey, y’all, what did I miss? Anything good?” She snatches up a carrot stick off my plate, taking a bite.

I take in her flushed cheeks, her squirrelly behavior, and her messy hair. Usually, Social Media Barbie doesn’t have a single hair out of place on her pretty blonde head. The only other time I’ve seen her looking like this was when…

My gaze snaps to Rachel, and I know she’s already gotten there too.

“Poppy…” she says, a glint in her eye. “Where did you just come from?”

“The bathroom,” she replies, but her eyes give her away. Has this woman ever told a lie in her life?

“Don’t you lie to me,” Rachel presses, seeing right through her too. “Were you just hooking up with someone?”

Poppy huffs, plopping her half-eaten carrot back onto my plate. “Why don’t you just scream your foul accusations to the high heavens?”

“You’re as bad as this one,” I say, jabbing a thumb at Rachel, relieved the secret is out.

“Hey, I’ve been good all night, I swear,” Rachel says, raising one hand in mock oath. “The gala host’s wife isn’t allowed to sneak off into coat closets, right?”

“I don’t know what you two are talking about,” Poppy replies. “I stepped out for five minutes to answer the phone and use the bathroom.”

As she speaks, Novy walks past our table, straightening his tie with a quick, “Evening, ladies.”

Hearing his voice, Poppy goes still, her back so ramrod straight, someone must have just shoved a telephone pole up her booty.

Rachel and I exchange another glance. She waits for Novy to clear our table before she descends. “Poppy,” she gasps. “You and Novy—”

“Shhhh.” Poppy waves a hand in her face. “Will you hush up?”

“You horny little horndog,” I tease. “In front of the turtles, Poppy?”

“Oh, please,” she says with a righteous huff. “If you two aren’t the pot calling the kettle black. First there’s you, Miss I Married Three Hockey Players,” she tosses at Rachel. “And don’t think we don’t see the way you look at Langley like you wanna climb him like a tree,” she adds at me.

“Actually, it’s the other way around,” I reply, wholly unashamed. It’s not like he’s my colleague or my patient. And Ryan and I agreed last night that we’re going public. “He was the one climbing me when we first got here. I may have given him a lil’ taste in the storage room.”

Poppy just huffs again, snatching a glass of wine off a passing tray.

Rachel leans in, elbow on the table. “So, uhh, how long have you two been…you know?”

“That is absolutely none of your business,” Poppy replies, taking a sip of her wine.

I glance from her to Rachel. “Did you—”

“Blegh.” Poppy spits the wine back into her glass. “Will someone take this away from me?” She slaps the glass down and slides it away.

Rachel’s eyes go big as saucers, and I’m sure I’m not any better.

“Wait—are you pregnant?” I say.

Color blooms in Poppy’s cheeks as tears fill her eyes.

“Oh…Pop.” Rachel closes a hand around Poppy’s, giving it a squeeze. “It’s Novy’s, isn’t it? Does he know?”

“I…” Poppy sniffles, her pink lips pursed as she tries not to cry.

Rachel is trying to read her. “Wait…it’s not his?”

“Ohmygod. She’s not sure.”

Both women glance over sharply at me.

Fuck. I just said that out loud, didn’t I? I blame the mac and cheese. “You’re not…are you? You’re not sure.”

Slowly, Poppy shakes her head.

“This is a lot of information to digest at the turtle gala,” Rachel says, her dark eyes wide. “Well, are you—I mean—is it two guys on the team?”

Poppy snatches up the wine glass, ready to take another sip, before she gasps and shoves it away. “Oh, for Pete’s sake! No, okay? I don’t know who the father is. And yes, they’re both on the team. And yes, I know I’m a mess. So why don’t you just slap the scarlet ‘A’ on my chest and tie me to the stake already? Because this wanton hussy has two gentleman callers. And you know what? I’m not picking. You didn’t have to pick so why should I?” She snatches up the wine glass again, realizes it’s in her hand and shrieks, shoving it at me. “Gosh darn it!”

My eyes go wide, watching her fall apart as I save the wine glass from her panicked clutches.

“It’s Morrow,” Rachel says. “You’ve started something with Novy and Morrow. Right?”

“Please, Rach, you can’t say anything,” Poppy pleads, taking her hand. “I’m not ready for people to know. I’m not—we’re not like you, okay? We’re—this hasn’t been easy for us the way it seems so easy for you. The boys are—it’s just not easy to fall into something like this…” She falls into silence as Rachel squeezes her hand.

“I won’t say a word, Pop,” she assures her. “It’s not my business. It’s not anyone’s business.”

Poppy sniffs back tears. “I just—god, I never meant for any of this to happen,” she admits. “And now it just keeps happening. Four months ago, I was arguing with Lukas in an Uber. Now I’m meeting him in empty bathrooms at charity events like we’re a pair of horny teenagers. If we’re not screamin’, we’re screwin’, and I don’t know how to stop.”

“And Morrow?” Rachel asks.

Poppy just sighs. “I don’t know how to stop.”

“Geez,” I mutter, taking a sip of Poppy’s wine. “What’s in the water over at that ice rink? First Rach snatching up three in one hand, now you? Should I be worried Ryan is gonna come home with Patty McFlashy Abs next week?”

Before they can reply, Nancy comes hurrying over to the table. “Tess, honey, there’s a slight hiccup for tonight’s beach walk plans.”

“Ugh, don’t tell me.”

“Yup. Rain,” she says with a nod.

I groan. “Damn you, Florida.”

“Doppler says it’s coming in quick,” she adds, flashing me her phone to show me the weather app. “I think we may need to cancel.”

This is a huge bummer. I was really looking forward to treating people to a beach walk out on the sand at night. I loved the image of all of us walking in our fancy duds, heels in hand, pretending to be sea turtles as we noticed the effects of light pollution.

“‘Scuse me,” I say to Rachel and Poppy. The clock never stops, even when there’s salacious gossip to be heard. I step away from the table, Nancy following at my side. “How long is the rain supposed to last?” I ask, moving towards the pair of double doors that lead out to the back deck.

“Hard to say. Maybe an hour? But you know—”

“It’s Florida,” we intone at the same time.

I just sigh, pulling the door open and holding it for her to step through. The chill of the January air actually feels good as it kisses my skin. The wind blows, tugging on the loose tendrils framing my face.

“What if we just went and did it now?” I say, peering out over the railing at the white sand. Not fifty yards away, the ocean rolls in and out. “We could push back Ilmari’s speech until after. Heck, he could even give it down on the beach. That could actually be great.”

“I can run it by him,” Nancy offers.

I huff a laugh. “Oh, no. Mr. Price has me making all executive decisions.”

“Yeah…about that.” She glances up at me sheepishly.

“What?”

“Um, well, Mars actually gave us strict instructions to run all ideas involving him past him first.”

I laugh, turning around to lean against the wooden rail. “Well, I’m the Director of Operations for Out of the Net, and I say we’re moving the beach walk up, along with his speech.”

“And while I do love that idea,” she hedges. “He did rather sternly imply that your orders regarding him are not to be followed without his express approval.”

I glare down at her, even though I know she’s only the messenger. “Seriously?”

“Please don’t put me in the middle.”

“Oh, trust me, I can handle that broody Finn myself,” I say, pushing off the rail. “You’re welcome to stand on the sidelines for this one, Nance. Come on, let’s go light the torches.”

She hurries behind me, both of us shucking our heels as we walk down the short boardwalk leading out to the beach. While the sun was still out, we set up a short row of tiki torches to light up the boardwalk’s end and signal for walkers where to return.

“Oh, and a donor keeps asking about you,” Nancy says, walking in step behind me. “Says he wants to speak to you about the terms of his donation.”

I rack my brain, trying to remember that conversation. “His donation?”

“Yeah, he said you were expecting him, but you hadn’t mentioned it to me so…”

I glance over my shoulder at her. “What did you say his name was?”

“Umm…Troy,” she replies, checking the little notebook still in her hand. “A Mr. Troy from PFH Consulting Group. Do you know him?”