The Pucking Wrong Man: A Hockey Romance (The Pucking Wrong Series Book 4)

I wish I’d taken a picture of Anastasia’s face when she walked out from the back of Charlie’s and saw me sitting in my usual spot.

She’d stopped mid-step, her mouth open adorably.

“Hello,” I said mildly.

“I—” She squeezed her eyes shut and then stomped over to me, anger in every step. “I don’t have to explain to you why I needed to work tonight. I’m appreciative of everything you’ve done for me—but I don’t owe you.”

There was a hitch to the end of her voice as she ended her sentence, but her chin was lifted determinately, and she was just daring me to argue with her.

“That is true. You don’t owe me anything,” I responded.

Her eyes flashed, and she blinked a few times, searching my face to see if I was telling the truth.

“You don’t actually mean that,” she whispered.

I was still learning everything about Anastasia, but it was obvious that this was one of those landmines I needed to cautiously step over and avoid at all costs.

“I do mean that. Absolutely. Anything I do is because I want to help. I’m in awe of you and everything you’ve managed to do by yourself.”

I’m obsessed with you. I…love you.

The words hovered on the tip of my tongue, but of course, I couldn’t say them yet.

“I just think,” I continued, “that it’s perfectly acceptable for you to let someone else take over for a minute. For me to let you take a breath after working so hard all these years.”

Before I could say anything, a woman at the table in front of us knocked her drink over, and it spilled all over the table and floor. She stared at it disgusted before she motioned at Anastasia. “Can you clean this up?” she asked in a clipped voice. “Now, please.”

Anastasia threw me a longing glance before she hurried over to the table and began wiping up the mess. Once the table was dry, she kneeled down and worked on the puddle of soda on the floor.

I hated the sight of her on her knees. The only time I wanted her there was if she was kneeling in front of me and my dick was going down her throat.

Inappropriate, Camden.

It had also been inappropriate what I’d done in her sheets earlier, though, and I wasn’t apologizing for that.

Anastasia couldn’t work here anymore.

That was a fucking fact. She was killing herself dancing all day, cleaning the studio…and then coming here to scrub tables. And she was making almost nothing for all that work.

Unacceptable.

My baby girl didn’t need to be working like this.

She tried to get up, and I watched as her leg gave out, her knee hitting the tile floor with a thump. A flash of nausea hit me as I imagined the amount of pain she was in. I quickly slid out of my bench seat to help her, but she held up a hand, like she knew I was coming even though her back was to me. She stubbornly pushed up from the floor and limped to the back room with the sodden rag, not looking at me once.

Anastasia was never going to agree to quit on her own.

I unfortunately was going to have to do it for her.

If I was going to take care of her how she deserved—make everything better in her life, sacrifices were going to have to be made.

Batman was just as much a superhero as Superman, right?

Even if sometimes he was the bad guy…

Fuck.

I was thinking in terms of DC Comics characters. Ari Lancaster was an asshole. He’d called me “Hero” so much, apparently it was becoming my personality.

Anastasia was still in the back, so I pulled out my phone to pass the time. I wasn’t leaving here without her.

Me: Lancaster, I hate you.

Ari: The drama with this one. Is it because of that spin move I did today that you were so jealous of?

Ari: Or my dick.

Ari: It is my dick, isn’t it?

Ari: It’s alright, Hero. Not everyone can be me.

Me: That’s it! From now on, no one is allowed to call me “Hero.”

Linc: This guy, thinking he makes the rules.

Walker: How do you think I felt when I referred to myself in third person as “Disney?”

Ari: That’s kind of weird, Dis.

Linc: Yeah, it kind of is.

Logan: Walker just let out a hitched sob and ran out of the room.

Walker: We’re not even fucking together right now!

Walker Davis removed Logan York from the chat.

Ari: Touchy for a simp.

Me: So, we’re on the same page, right? You can call me Camden or James.

Ari: or Hero.

Linc: Yeah, I think I’m going to stick with Hero. It’s much lighter on the tongue.

Walker: Me too.

Ari: Surprise. Surprise.

Me:

Anastasia came out, carrying a bin as she limped across the room, intentionally averting her gaze from mine.

I tapped on the wood in front of me, fiddling with the silverware and feeling anxious as I watched her work.

Anastasia was cleaning a table a few down in front of me when she suddenly stopped, her eyes locked onto something outside the window. I watched as all the color drained from her face.

What the hell?

My heart skipped a beat, and I pushed up from the table, glancing out the window to see what had rattled her.

A man stood on the sidewalk, staring intently through the glass. He was tall, with a lean build. His dark hair was slicked back, and his eyes were drilling right into Anastasia.

I’d never seen him before, but I did not like the way he was looking at her.

Like she belonged to him.

I was the only one allowed to look at her like that.

Beyond the possessiveness of his stare, there was something off about him.

My protective instincts were on high alert as he continued to stare at her.

I walked briskly toward Anastasia, trying to keep my cool. “Hey,” I said softly, placing a hand on her arm. “You okay?”

She flinched at my touch, then nodded quickly, tearing her eyes away from the window. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, her voice shaky. “Just…thought I saw someone I knew.”

I glanced back at the guy. He was still there, still staring. It made my skin crawl. She was lying. She knew exactly who he was. And she was terrified of him.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” I growled, and her eyes flashed fearfully…like she was afraid for me.

“Someone from my past,” she whispered.

“Do you want him staring at you like that?” I asked, carefully keeping my voice neutral.

It wouldn’t matter if she did, that was obviously not going to happen. But I thought I’d at least pretend to ask.

Anastasia blinked at me slowly, and I’d never seen her look so haunted.

I was out the door then, bursting into a jog as soon as I left the restaurant.

He’d already started to walk away, though. Disappearing into the crowd before I could reach him.

I searched the sidewalks for a few minutes before worrying that maybe he’d circled around and he was at the restaurant, so I hurried back.

When I got there, though, he was nowhere to be found.

As soon as I stepped into Charlie’s, Anastasia was there, her face drawn and exhausted looking. “I asked if I could leave early. I’m—I’m not feeling well,” she said. “Can you take me home?”

“Of course, baby. Let’s get you out of here,” I said quickly, inwardly rejoicing that she’d used the word “home” to describe my place. She probably wasn’t even aware she’d just done that. We stepped outside into the cool night air, and Anastasia shivered and huddled into my chest.

Leading her to my truck, I helped her into her seat, buckling her in and brushing my lips softly against hers. “I’m not going to forget that we need to have a talk about who that man was,” I murmured sternly.

She sighed, and her eyes grew sad and broken before she nodded.

Which made my anger over that asshole only grow.

“Just not tonight,” she said.

“Not tonight,” I agreed before shutting the door and driving us home.

Anastasia was quiet when we got back to the penthouse, only nibbling at the chicken quesadilla I made her before telling me she was going to go to bed.

As she walked away, I grabbed her hand and pulled her back into my chest. “You’re mine, Anastasia,” I told her, loving the blush that spread across her cheeks. “Whatever you need, I’m going to make it happen.”

Her eyes got wide and glossy again, and she hastily wiped at the tears before giving me a trembling smile. “We’ll see,” she finally said before pulling away and walking down the hall to her room.

I watched her go, wishing I could follow her, or at least make love to her to show her body what her mind couldn’t seem to believe.

One thing was clear, I needed to up my game and save her from herself.

Daddy was going to take care of his baby girl.