The Pucking Wrong Date: A Hockey Romance (The Pucking Wrong Series Book 3)

“Hello Disney,” my brother’s voice crowed at me mockingly through the speaker.

Fucking asshole.

“Should I be more specific than calling you ‘Disney?’ Like is this a situation where I need to ask you to let down your hair so I can come upstairs, like what’s that chick’s name?” continued Cole.

Rapunzel. “That chick” was Rapunzel. Obviously.

“I have no idea,” I drawled, deciding that Ari fucking Lancaster needed a puck to the dick now that the nickname “Disney” was spreading across the news. “But if you want me to let you up, ‘Walker’ better be the only thing you’re calling me.”

“Come on, little brother. Let me in,” he singsonged. I sighed and then pressed the button that allowed him through.

A few minutes later the elevator dinged, and Cole emerged, that effortless coolness surrounding him that had become his trademark. His longish, sun-kissed blonde hair fell to his shoulders, held back from his face with a dark blue bandana. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and he was wearing some long necklace with a blue stone that matched his bandana. And the cowboy hat he was carrying…

Completely ridiculous.

“You look like a fucking hippie,” I commented, and he snorted, removing his sunglasses and revealing the dark brown eyes that reminded me of Mom in a way that made my heart ache. He strode toward me, a carefree smile curved on his lips.

“Love you too, Walkie Poo,” he cooed as he threw an arm around my neck and squeezed me into a hug.

He’d been on tour for the last six months with the Sounds of Us and our visits had been few and far between.

He was annoying. But it was good to see him.

Cole let me go and headed in the direction of my kitchen like he owned the place. “So ya ready for the big game tonight?” he asked as he opened my pantry and surveyed the contents.

“Make yourself at home,” I said sarcastically.

He grinned. “I’m a growing boy, Disney. I need nutritional substance after weeks of living off whiskey.”

I threw my keys at him, and he chuckled as he ducked just in time to avoid being hit.

I picked up my phone and shot off a text.

Me: YOU’VE RUINED MY LIFE.

Ari answered immediately like he’d been waiting with bated breath since Sports Illustrated had released this morning.

Ari: Excellent. We’re doing this. I love a good drama scene.

King Linc: What’s the problem?

I grinned like I always did when Lincoln answered one of my texts. Because Lincoln Daniels was a god.

“Why do you have Lincoln in there as King Linc?” Cole asked over my shoulder. I jumped at the sound of his voice and hid my phone. My brother was like a cat.

“Don’t you have a pantry to raid?” I snarled.

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice that your rock god of a brother isn’t holding your attention at the moment,” Cole grinned, folding his arms in front of him.

I scoffed. “Did you just call yourself a ‘rock god’?”

“It’s confidence. Not cockiness, little brother.”

“Did you also rip your sleeves on purpose to make your arms look bigger?”

My phone buzzed, but there was a blush on my brother’s cheeks so I ignored it for the moment.

This was too good.

“If you got it, flaunt it, Walkie,” he finally said with a sniff, burying himself in the pantry again.

Me: From hereforth “Disney” is not allowed in your vocabulary.

Ari: I think the word you’re looking for is ‘henceforth,’ Disney.

King Linc: It’s definitely henceforth.

“I agree. Definitely ‘henceforth’,” Cole said as he bit into an apple with a crunch.

”Fuck!” I cried, jumping again at the fact he’d managed to sneak up on me once more. “I hate you all,” I growled.

Cole continued to eat his apple, completely unaffected by my ribbing.

My phone alarm went off and nerves spiked in my chest.

“Game time?” Cole asked and I nodded, rubbing my hand down my face.

Tonight was a big game. One of the biggest of my career. We were playing to get into the playoffs. But more importantly…I was playing to have a chance at a contract with Dallas for next year. Ari was leaving after this season, he’d been very clear about that.

I may have sounded like a pussy…but the chance to play with Ari and Lincoln…it was career goals for me.

L.A. had been good to me. But I was ready for change. And I’d always felt like a fish out of water here. For a Tennessee boy, L.A. was an alien world.

I smirked as Cole fiddled with some kind of falcon feather in his pretentious cowboy hat that was more rockstar than ranch. Maybe one of the Davis brothers felt at home in L.A.

But it wasn’t me.

“Parker’s being a jealous prick that I’m going to the game and he’s not,” Cole smirked, looking decidedly delighted about that.

Our little brother had spring practice starting this week, and although it was a complete waste of time, Parker had the NFL draft in his sights and he was trying to do everything right to prepare for it.

“Interesting place for lingerie, Walkie,” Cole commented, bending over and using a beef jerky stick to pick up a pair of black lacy panties. I blinked at them.

“I mean I knew you were a freak in the sheets, the nice ones always are, but the pantry? What would Mom say?” he drawled.

I scoffed, my cheeks burning, even though I knew his tour bus probably had to be scrubbed of DNA at the end of the tour because of all the tail he got after shows.

“Who was the lucky girl?” he asked, swinging the panties around on the tip of the beef jerky.

“Give me those.” I grabbed them and stuffed them in the trash.

“I’m going to get ready,” I called to him as I strode towards my room. “Please don’t eat that jerky.”

“I want names.”

I threw a middle finger over my shoulder and hid in my room.

I actually had no idea whose underwear those were. I’d been on a bit of a dry streak as of late. Watching your best friends with their soulmates would do that to you.

One night stands or trying with puck bunnies who were with me for all the wrong reasons wasn’t having quite the same effect as it used to.

And there was the whole Davis family curse thing. Parker and Cole swore it wasn’t true. But you couldn’t help but think about it when every male relative that you’d ever heard of had experienced it. That moment when they locked eyes with a special woman and they were instantly in love.

My phone buzzed, saving me from my fucking pathetic thoughts.

Ari: Blake just told me my dick looks bigger than normal. So we’re definitely going to win tonight.

Me: I didn’t want to hear that.

King Linc: What happened to not nutting before a big game?

Ari: Like you haven’t.

King Linc: …

Ari:…

Me: Again. I’m still here.

I snorted and went to take my pre-game shower where I decidedly was not going to nut.

Because it was a big game.

I was so glad that Cole couldn’t see me right now. I was a terrible dancer, first of all, and he’d be offended that I was dancing to Taylor Swift instead of one of his songs.

But he just didn’t have that infectious beat.

Ari’s dance ritual got the team out of the funk they’d been in for the past hour and with one last “Cobras!”, it was game time.

Ari slapped me on the ass as we waited in the tunnel, preparing to skate out.

I winked at him. “I thought you said no ass tap tonight?” I snorted.

Ari rolled his eyes, pushing his dark hair out of his face and slamming on his helmet. “Tonight’s game is bigger than that, Disney,” he retorted, getting his game face on.

I nodded and got my head in the game.

We skated out for warm-ups and I took my customary loop around the ice, counting to sixty-five as I did so. It was a weird ritual I did every game, and everyone knew not to talk to me until I made it back to the goal. Then they just had to wait a few more minutes so I could do twenty up downs. And then I was ready.

Hey…it was only weird if it didn’t work. And it did work…like 75% of the time…at least this season.

“Have I ever told you you’re kind of odd for a Disney prince,” Ari commented as he skated by.

“I’m flipping you off right now,” I yelled after him, even though that was impossible with my gloves on.

Across the way, Seattle’s goalie was stretching and I glared, envisioning a million goals going past him, because if you didn’t think it, you couldn’t manifest it.

Hmmm. Maybe I was a little weird.

I was also…the fucking best, I told myself as warm-ups continued.

Because again, positive thinking was key.

“You’re a wall, Disney. A fucking brick wall,” Ari told me as he skated by, obviously getting it.

I nodded, keeping my focus on Coach Markov, who, armed with a bucket of pucks, was testing my reflexes from every angle.

Warmups ended and I skated over to the bench to grab a water bottle, lifting up my helmet to spray it on my face.

“Let’s go, Disney,” Cole yelled from nearby. I groaned and put my best snarly face on as I glared at him through the glass. I had seats for the game that I’d given him, and he’d somehow filled three of the extra ones with chicks. They were hanging on him like he was a god. I groaned and he grinned and winked, the smug fuck.

Ari skated up beside me and grabbed some water. “This is going to be a good fucking time,” he yelled at the team and all of them lifted a glove and roared with him.

And then it was time.

The puck dropped, and the first period was underway. Seattle was known for their aggressive offense, and I braced myself for an onslaught of shots. The rink echoed with the sounds of skates cutting the ice and sticks clashing. Within the first minute, Seattle’s star forward burst through our defense, attempting a breakaway. I tracked his every move, staying square to the shooter. He released a quick wrist shot, but I snapped my glove hand out, snagging the puck mid-air. The crowd roared their approval.

Ari gave me a fist pump and I nodded at him, adrenaline spiking through my veins.

Moments later, a scramble in front of our net resulted in a point-blank shot. I dropped into the butterfly position, covering the lower portion of the net. Ryan Taylors, one of Seattle’s forwards, fired a low shot, aiming for the five-hole, but I sealed the gap with my pads, denying him any daylight. The rebound was quickly cleared by Ari.

As the period progressed, Seattle gained momentum, creating a flurry of chances. A wicked slap shot from the blue line rocketed toward the top corner of the net. I read the play, tracking the puck’s trajectory. With a desperate leap, I reached out and snagged it with my glove, robbing the shooter of a goal.

Fucking hell. How many saves was that already?

“That’s my goalie,” Ari called, right before he stole the puck from Taylors.

With less than five minutes left in the first period, Seattle executed a swift breakaway. Their forward skated in alone, and I could feel the collective tension in the arena mounting. As he unleashed a shot, I reacted instinctively, positioning myself to make the save.

The puck struck me squarely in the chest, and I quickly smothered it, anticipating a whistle from the ref. But it fucking never came. Play continued, and Seattle regained possession.

‘Hey stripes, the whistle ain’t a dick, you can blow it,” Ari snarled as he knocked a player into the boards, struggling for the puck.

I snorted and shook my head.

But it was true. What the fuck.

The game continued, and with two minutes left, Sullivan made a sharp move towards Seattle’s net, attempting to cut through their defense. One of Seattle’s defensemen attempted to intercept the play but instead slammed Sullivan’s facemask with the blade of his stick.

The resounding crack of the impact echoed through the arena and refs were blowing their whistles immediately, signaling a penalty. The crowd roared, screaming “Shame,” over and over as the player skated to the penalty box.

Fucking loved when they did that.

It also meant it was powerplay time and I watched as Tommy skated towards the net, weaving in and out deftly despite his injured leg. He shot and…

Fuck yes. 1-0.

I stood at the net, getting ready for the second period, stretching my back and getting a drink of water. I was feeling antsy from all the adrenaline spiking through me.

I lived for this game.

I’d stopped every puck that came my way so far, and the anticipation was building as we inched closer to securing our playoff spot.

Hopefully Lincoln was coming through for us.

Not that I doubted him for a second.

That man was a god after all.

Ari shot me a thumbs up as he skated by and I readied myself for the next period to begin. “Good fucking job, Disney. Circle of trust behavior for sure.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was feeling pretty proud of myself. I was a shoo-in for the Circle of Trust.

If it was actually a thing.

Hadn’t quite figured that out yet.

I took in the crowd for a minute, listening to the cheers and the trash talk. My mom was big about taking in the moment. She always said that she wished she had taken in more of the small moments with Dad.

Fucking hell, why am I thinking about that?

I turned my focus back to the crowd and there was a distinct, piercing voice that cut through the noise. “You fucking suck, Davis!”

I mean, I’d heard that a million times. Fans trash talked me all the fucking time obviously…but something had me turning my head.

And there she was, standing on the other side of the glass.

Our eyes locked.

Mine.

I felt lightheaded as I stared at her, the world rearranging around me until all I could see…all I could feel…was her. I had no idea who she was. But for a heartbeat, I forgot about the game, the score…the pressure. I was entranced. Nothing else mattered.

I stared at her angelic face in blind amazement until I lost my mind and I blew her a kiss, watching in awe as her gorgeous face screwed up in disgust, gold flecked eyes unaware that she’d just changed my fucking world.

The buzzer sounded and I reluctantly dragged my gaze away from hers and towards the action happening on the other side of the ice, feeling like I was going to choke with all the nervous energy I was experiencing.

What if she left? What if I never knew who she was?

Fucking hell.

It felt like I would die if that happened. And yes, I was well aware I was being crazy.

“All good, Walk?” Ari called as he slid by.

I nodded, words escaping me at the moment.

‘Hey Davis, anyone ever tell you you’re just like a tampon? Only good for one period,” Taylors called as he skated by.

“Heard you were the worst player on your last team too, asswipe,” Ari said to Taylors through gritted teeth, knocking him in the boards before he stole the puck from him.

I loved that guy.

When the puck was safely on the other side, I dared to glance behind me to the beautiful girl who’d just rewritten my fucking stars. She wasn’t paying any attention to me. Her focus was on what was happening on the other side of the ice.

She had no idea what she’d just done.

But she would.

“Walker!” someone choked out, and I pulled my attention back to the game.

Fuck.

A Seattle player was on a breakaway.

As he closed in, I did my best to cut down his angles. He tried to slip the puck through my legs, but I dropped into the butterfly, trapping the puck under my pads. Our fans erupted with applause.

“A little close there, Dis,” Ari commented as he moved past me.

“Now I’m getting nicknames of my fucking nickname?” I called out as I tossed the puck to the ref.

“It’s all about how I feel in the moment,” he shot back as he lined up near Tommy who was getting ready for a face-off.

Another glance back at the girl. She was up on her feet, arms crossed in front of a rack that not even her loose Seattle jersey could hide.

Fuck. I was not about to get a woody in the middle of this fucking game.

Ari would never let me live that down.

I also was not going to rip off that Seattle jersey in the middle of the game.

Because I was a fucking gentleman.

At that moment Soto, our so-called enforcer, decided it was a good idea to throw his gloves off and throw some punches. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes watching him go at it with the grace of an elephant. Predictably, he was banished to the penalty box, which meant our team was effectively down a player.

Seattle’s power play unit moved the puck with precision, weaving a web of passes right through our defense. I braced myself for the shot.

But it happened. A swift pass, perfectly timed, and the puck whizzed past me, finding the back of the net. Seattle’s fans erupted as the red light behind me illuminated.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

‘Hey tender, your legs are so wide open you make your mama look like a saint,” Taylors called as he shot me a smug grin.

“Taylors’, your mama’s so nasty, they used to call them ‘jumpolines’ ’til she bounced on one,” Tommy called back as he skated by with a nod.

Ari snorted. “Tommy, I didn’t know you were funny.” He patted me on the helmet. “Not another shot, Walker Disney Davis. You’re a fucking wall.”

I nodded, feeling like the girl’s eyes were staring into the back of my helmet. She was going to think I sucked.

I’m a fucking wall. I’m a fucking wall, I chanted to myself, determined not to suck anymore.

The next play Seattle executed a perfectly timed cross-ice pass, setting up a one-timer from the faceoff circle. I kicked out my left leg in a sweeping motion, deflecting the puck away from the net.

“Very nice, Disney,” Ari screamed. “Good fucking boy.”

Praise kink unlocked. I’d have to examine that later.

Second period ended without another score, and I skated desperately off the ice as soon as the buzzer sounded. My teammates were trying to talk to me, but I was a man on a mission.

“Hey, Fargo,” I called out to one of the security guards by the box. He frowned and looked at me. “There’s a girl over there,” I told him, gesturing to the blonde. “Second row, towards the middle.” He squinted and then finally nodded.

“Davis—in the locker room,” Coach Gretz yelled as he walked by. I waved at him, unable to go in for the break until I knew she couldn’t get away.

“Fargo, for the love of all that is holy. Find a way to keep that girl here after the game. I don’t care what it takes.”

He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. And I was pretty sure if he was thinking that…he’d be right.

“Kid, what do you want me to do, kidnap her?” he asked, confused. “And what are you doing thinking about pussy in the middle of a game? Don’t you get fucking laid enough?”

For a second I was tempted to rip his vocal chords out for calling my girl “pussy,” but I held myself back. That wouldn’t get me what I wanted.

“Fargo. Figure it out. $1000 for you if you do it.”

His eyes widened. “Are you shitting me?”

“No. I’m not shitting you,” I snapped, riding the edge of desperation.

“Davis—what the fuck is going on?” Coach Gretz yelled again, popping his head back in from the tunnel.

“Fargo,” I pleaded with the old man, feeling like my life fucking hung in the balance. If he didn’t say yes, I didn’t know what I was going to do. Quit the game? Fake an injury?

Fuck, I couldn’t let Ari and the others down like that.

But this moment felt like I was holding fate in my hands.

“Fine, kid. I’ll figure something out. But you’re going to owe me a thousand fucking dollars.”

I nodded, only feeling slightly better as I stomped my way into the locker room where I was most definitely going to get reamed by Gretz for taking so long.

Three minutes left in the third period and we were ahead by one, I’d kept sneaking glances at her when I could, but I hadn’t let another goal pass.

Was she impressed?

I’d lifted my mask up multiple times, trying to see if I could attract her attention. But nothing. It was like I didn’t exist outside of that one moment where she’d told me I’d fucking sucked.

Cole had noticed me looking at her and was now waggling his eyebrows every time I glanced over.

Fucking prick.

Desperation hung thick in the air as Seattle continued their offensive onslaught. They were like a wounded animal backed into a corner, and Ari and I were having to play fucking lights out to stop them.

Taylors unleashed a blistering slapshot, and I reacted instinctively. My glove shot up, snatching the puck.

Fuck. That was close.

“What a fucking king,” Ari shouted, doing a little dance on the ice. I saluted him and pretended I needed a drink…for the five hundredth time…so I could make sure she was still there.

She was fucking staring at me. She raised both hands slowly and flipped me off and I almost passed out on the ice, just from having her attention.

Because evidently I had forgotten how to interact with someone of the opposite sex, I once again blew her a fucking kiss.

Thank fuck Linc wasn’t here, and Ari wasn’t paying attention.

They would be so ashamed of my current game.

But then she blushed and averted her eyes.

And fuck…was I swooning?

The seconds ticked down and then Seattle was pulling their goalie. Ari knocked the puck loose from Taylors and sent it to Tommy.

Goal!!!!!

I shook my fist and screamed as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game and a fucking victory.

A victory that would mean nothing if Dallas didn’t win.

I hesitated, feeling fucking frozen in the net as my whole team skated towards the bench to watch the rest of the Dallas game. She was standing up, she was getting ready to go…and then Fargo was there, stopping her from leaving.

Thank fuck.

Praying that a thousand dollars was a good enough incentive for him to keep her there, I skated towards the bench. Cole was up on his feet, screaming as I skated by. “One to one,” he mouthed and I nodded, feeling sick to my stomach. Dallas and Detroit were tied.

The fans were already celebrating as our whole team watched the game on someone’s iPhone.

Lincoln was a god. He could fucking do it.

And then he did do it. Breaking away, he slipped a shot right in between the Detroit tender’s legs.

Fuckkk.

Like I hadn’t worshiped him enough before.

Linc skated up to a camera and blew it a kiss. And Ari snatched it up like it belonged to him.

I scooped it up behind him, pretending it was for me.

Because it could have been. Or at least I could dream.

Security was letting fans onto the ice to celebrate like we’d just won the Stanley Cup, and I searched desperately to see where the girl was.

Fargo was leading her onto the ice!

Nervous butterflies about knocked me over.

“Disney, you fucking rocked,” Cole shouted as he scrambled onto the ice with everyone else. “Let’s get druunk!” He slung an arm around my neck, not minding at all that I was a sweaty mess and possibly smelled like balls.

Fuck. If I went over to her smelling like this…she was probably going to run away.

Cole kept raving about the game, holding up his phone where he had Parker on Facetime.

Any other day before today, this would have been my dream. Celebrating with my brothers and Ari.

But today…today I was desperate to get to her.

My girl.

Mine.