One Pucking Moment Paperback

Chapter One

Miranda     

“I told you…I don’t eat boogers!” I slap the grotesque shell with the dead, slimy sea creature away.

Miles laughs, his bright blue eyes shining. “They don’t taste like boogers. You live in Michigan now, and unless you’re eating fish from the Great Lakes, your seafood is coming from somewhere else. You should take advantage of fresh seafood when you have the chance. I promise, you’ll love them.”

I scoot my chair back a few inches, putting distance between the oysters and me. “I promise you, I won’t. I’m completely content without choking down salty ocean snot chunks.”

“Seriously, stop.” Miles laughs again and, in dramatic fashion, sucks the oyster into his mouth before dropping the shell back onto the platter of ice. “You’re ruining my oyster experience.”

“Plus,” I continue, “you know those were imported from somewhere else. They’re not from Hawaiian waters.”

Miles furrows his brows. “That can’t be true. I can tell they’re fresh.”

“Well, my little oyster connoisseur, your taste buds are off because it’s illegal to harvest oysters here. They’re protected since the natural populations are limited. Most oysters consumed in Hawaii are imported from the West Coast. Usually farmed in California.”

He leans back in his chair, his beautiful blues holding mine. The corner of his mouth tilts into a grin. “So you don’t eat them, but you’re an expert in oyster farming? How do you even know this stuff?”

I take a sip of my white wine and shrug. A smirk tugs at my lips. “What can I say? I’m a database for useless knowledge.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m not sure. I guess I’ve just learned a lot over the years as Anna’s assistant. I’m always researching something—giving her background on a character she’s playing, scouting locations for filming, or planning publicity events. There’s always something to research. The facts just stick in my head.”

“Because you’re so smart.”

“I’m not going to argue with you there.” I chuckle.

I take Miles in, and my chest warms. I adore everything about this man. As a pair, we have the best time together. He’s become such a good friend over the past six months.

I never imagined when I came to Michigan last September that I’d still be here now. But where Anna goes, I go. My best friend—and insanely talented movie star—Annalise Sterling fell in love with Jaden Smith, one of Miles’s teammates. The two are now engaged and inseparable. I love this for Anna. She deserves everything the world has to offer.

I suppose I could fulfill my job duties from home in LA with virtual meetings. With everything I need right at my fingertips on my phone, it wouldn’t be difficult at all. Except Los Angeles isn’t home without Anna. Nowhere is. She’s been my sole source of family and comfort since I was fifteen. So if she wants to live in Michigan—where it seems cold, wet, and miserable half the year—then I do, too… I suppose.

Miles, though, was unexpected. I’d venture to say he’s my first true male friend. I don’t typically mesh well with the male population. We lack an important element—trust. But Miles is impossible not to love, and more importantly, trust. He grew up in the quintessential family—two loving married parents, a stay-at-home mom, a supportive father, an adoring sister, and a golden retriever named Molly. He was given all the love and support in the world growing up, and he didn’t waste it. He’s hardworking, motivated, fun, and most of all, truly kind.

His upbringing was the stark opposite of mine. From the outside, anyone might assume his perfect life would stir resentment in me, but it doesn’t. We’re all dealt different hands when we come into this world. I may not have had much luck with mine, but I can’t hold it against those who drew the winning hand. I wouldn’t wish my past on anyone.

He and his father have always shared a fascination with movies. They’d visit sets near Detroit whenever something was filming, which gave Miles a natural curiosity about Anna’s world. His questions about her career and the industry became the foundation of our friendship, and it only grew from there. I’m so thankful for him. Now that Anna spends most of her free time with Jaden, it’s nice to have Miles’s company.

The server arrives and sets down our entrées. I motion for him to take away the plate of booger-filled shells.

“Hey, what if I was still eating those?” Miles teases.

“Were you?”

He runs his fingers through his disheveled dark hair in an absentminded gesture and supplies an adorable smirk. I get why his teammates call him Hollywood. He could have been quite the film star heartthrob. Let’s be real—Miles won the lottery in life, and his stunning good looks are just the cherry on top.

“No, I was done,” he admits, scrunching his nose and giving me a pouty grin.

“Exactly.” I laugh. “I know you well enough by now.”

He presses the palm of his hand to his abdomen and makes a face. “Plus, if I eat too many, there are consequences.”

“What kind of consequences?”

“Some nausea, vomiting, or an all-consuming need to ravage the first woman I see.” He narrows his gaze on me, causing me to laugh.

“Oh my gosh. Stop.” I shake my head. “So that’s true? Do eating oysters make you horny?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Honestly, for me… It’s always been the nausea thing. Some of the guys and I ate plates of them last year after a game in Boston. I’m not sure if I just ate too many or if I ate a bad one, but I vomited for an hour. I became well acquainted with my hotel toilet.”

“Ugh.” I shiver. “Gross. On that note, we should eat.”

“You don’t have to worry. I stopped before any nausea or sexual urges formed,” he teases.

“Phew.” I blow out an exaggerated breath. “So glad.”

He flashes one of his panty-melting grins, which would capture the heart of 90 percent of the female population. But sadly, it’s a waste on me. He is squarely locked in the friend zone, the only man to ever make it there, and that’s enough for me. Still, it doesn’t hurt having someone so beautiful to share my time with. Just because we’ll never be romantically connected doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view.

“Okay, but you have to try this—most likely imported—shrimp. The coconut shrimp here is out of this world.” He dips a coconut-crusted shrimp into a bright orange sauce and hands it to me.

I take a bite and groan. Covering my mouth, I manage, “So good,” through a mouthful of crustacean. “Now that’s amazing.”

“Right? I’ve been to this restaurant a few times, and I get them every time. I’ve never had coconut shrimp like this anywhere else.”

The restaurant sits nestled in a valley surrounded by lush tropical foliage and small mountains. A waterfall tumbles down the far hillside into a pristine little lake. The open-air concept allows the tropical breeze to drift through, carrying the scent of salt and flowers. From the ambiance to the picturesque surroundings to the food, everything about this place is five stars.

“I’m glad we came here,” I say.

“Right? I honestly couldn’t do another luau. The pork is good and everything, but there’s such a thing as too much kalua pork and macaroni salad.”

“I think Gunner would disagree.” I smile, picturing how happy the goalie gets with a plate piled high with kalua pork.

“Well, we don’t call him the Beast for nothing. The guy needs to eat a lot, so we’ll give him a pass. But the others? Their decision-making is questionable.”

We’ve been in Hawaii for a week for the team’s annual bye week vacation, and it’s been a blast. For the most part, the team has stayed together, but tonight we split into groups. All the couples are at a farewell luau, while the single guys and their guests are partying at the resort’s main house. Miles convinced me to come here for one of his favorite meals, and once we’re finished, we’ll head back to the house to join the others.

It’s been a nice break from the cold Michigan winter. Truthfully, I’m not looking forward to going back.

“What is it, Sunshine?” Miles asks. “Some of your light just flickered out for a second there.”

Miles knows nothing about my past, yet sometimes I feel like he’s the only one who truly sees me. I’ve become very good at putting a positive foot forward, accompanied by a happy smile. My demeanor—usually one of joy—earned me the Sunshine nickname from Miles.

There’s no sense in lying to him because he would know. “Honestly, I’m kind of sad to leave Hawaii.”

“Yeah, how come?”

“I guess I’m bored with hotel living. It’s a little lonely. I really need to get a place, but I don’t know. I haven’t loved anywhere I’ve looked.”

“Come live with me.” The words flow from his mouth without a moment’s hesitation.

“What?” My eyes widen. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure, you can. I have a big-ass house just for me. Truthfully, you’d be doing me a favor. It may be different from a hotel room, but the loneliness is the same. I’d love to have you. We’d have so much fun together.”

I hold up a hand and shake my head. “No. Absolutely not. That’s your bachelor pad, and I’m not about to block your game with my feminine energy.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Block my game? Not possible.”

“So you’re not perfect,” I say, thinking back to my earlier thoughts.

“What does that mean?” he grins.

“Just that you’re a little cocky there. That’s not a good trait.”

He tosses another coconut shrimp into his mouth. “I don’t think confidence is a bad trait by any means.”

“There’s a difference between confidence and cockiness,” I state.

He places the palms of his hands on the table and leans in toward me. “See, these are the kinds of things we can debate when we’re roomies. Come on, Sunshine. It’ll be fun.”

I place a hand on his and hold his stare. “It would be fun, but”—I shake my head—“no. I just need to find my own place.”

“If that’s what you really want, I’ll help you look. Though I really think you should reconsider. We would have a blast. I’ve been thinking of offering a couple of my rooms to some of the guys on the team, but I’m hesitant. As much as I love them all, we already spend so much time together. It’s nice to have my own space.” He presses his lips together in a sheepish grin. “But I do get lonely.”

“Out of curiosity, why’d you buy such a large house for just yourself? Why didn’t you start with a nice condo or something?”

He places a couple of his coconut shrimps onto my plate next to my half-eaten chicken breast and gives me a look that says, ‘I told you to order the shrimp.’ He did, too, and I didn’t listen. Compared to his decadent meal, my chicken breast is boring and tasteless.

“Well…” He scoops up a forkful of rice. “I guess I thought it was the right thing to do. I always heard growing up that property was a great investment. So when I started making good money, I figured I should be responsible and buy a nice home. I don’t regret it. I mean, it’s a sweet house, but it’s big for just me. Which is exactly why you should move in.”

“It’s definitely nice, but it’s like a grown-up house, and you’re still so young.”

He chuckles. “You love to act like I’m this kid. I’m basically your age.”

“You’re twenty-four. That means your brain isn’t even fully developed. For a guy, that’s young.”

“Okay, Grandma. You do realize you’re only two years older than me.”

“Well, for a guy in his twenties, that’s a lot.”

“Plus, I’ll be twenty-five next month.”

“And I’m turning twenty-seven.”

He nods slowly. “Yes, Miranda… you will always be two years older than me. That’s how it works.”

I toss the tail of a shrimp at him.

“Hey, this is a nice place,” he teases as he catches the shrimp tail. “No foot fights allowed. When do women’s brains fully develop?”

“Way before men’s.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. It is one of the many facts stored in my fully developed brain.”

“Again,” he says, pointing the shrimp tail toward me, “something we could debate if we were roomies.”

I shake my head. “Just eat. We should get back to the party before it winds down.”

“I know we’re both new to bye week. But I hear there is no winding down on the last night. We’ll basically be up until we head to the airport.”

“Really? That sounds exhausting.”

“Oh, it will be.”

Miles and I chatter away as we finish our meals. Everything with him is so easy. I know he’s right—we’d be great roommates. Yet there’s something about the arrangement I find unsettling. Plus, I’ve never truly been on my own. Not since I was fifteen and Anna took me in. Yes, I’ve stayed in my own hotel rooms, but they’ve never been more than a few feet from Anna’s. I had a small apartment in LA, but I spent more nights in Anna’s guest suite than in my own place.

Anna is moving on and starting a new chapter in her life, and I’m just treading water. I need to do something for myself, and I’m not certain what that is—but getting a place of my own seems like a step in the right direction.

Chapter Two

Miles

 “Chug! Chug! Chug!” the people in the room chant as cold beer passes through my mouth so fast I don’t even taste it. My head feels heavy, and I cling to the metal sides of the keg. Whoever’s holding my ankles is unsteady, and I feel my grip start to slip.

One minute I’m upside down, rapidly consuming weak beer, and the next I’m on the ground, holding my throbbing face.

The room spins, and after a second, I find the culprit. “What the hell, Logan!” I bark.

“I’m sorry, man. Becky needed to tell me something.” A tan, bikini-clad woman with dark hair stands beside Logan, her hands on his chest.

“You fucking dropped me. I think I busted my face,” I grumble.

Finn chuckles. “You totally did. And you only made it like six seconds. You’re not even in contention for the record.”

“I hate you all,” I groan as I work to my feet. The room wobbles, and I steady myself, arms outstretched.

“Next!” Logan shouts.

“Don’t trust him!” I yell out to no one in particular. “He’s a dropper.”

I stumble away and try to remember where the kitchen is. It’s probably for the best that Logan dropped me. I’m normally a pro at keg stands. Even in my tipsy state, I realize I probably should be cut off—another twenty seconds of chugging would not have had a happy ending.

“Oh no! What happened, Miles?” Miranda’s concerned face appears, and she cups my cheek. “Your cheek is purple.”

I lean my hip against the kitchen island for balance. “Stupid Logan.”

“He hit you?” Beckett asks from the other side of the island.

“No—he dropped me, and my face hit the keg.”

“I’m missing the keg-stand competition?” Beckett’s voice rises an octave as he struts around the island and away from the kitchen.

“Hey,” Ari calls after him, “didn’t you tell Ma you’d be up in a couple of minutes a few hours ago?”

Beckett spins to face Ari, his daughter-in-law, who is engaged to marry our center, Bash.

“The relationships on this team are weird, huh?” I say to Miranda.

“What?” Her brows furrow.

I don’t reply. The thoughts in my head are too muddled to explain in my current state. But seriously…I’ve never seen a hockey team so relationship-focused. When I was scouting teams in college, something about the Crane organization drew me in. The fact that it is Michigan-based and close to home was a definite draw, but there was more to it than that. The team's energy and the rapport between the guys were unique—something I wanted to be part of. At the time, none of the teammates were married, and now, just a couple of short years later, over half of them are either married or on their way to the altar. Additionally, it seems as if most of the love matches are intertwined in some way. It’s not incestuous, per se, …just odd.

Then again, I’m lusting after one of my best friend’s fiancé’s best friends, so who am I to judge? Wait. No. I take that back. Miranda is just a close friend. There’s no lusting involved. Fine—but only a tiny bit. Miranda sits safely in my friend zone just as I sit in hers. The alcohol has me feeling warm and fuzzy feelings that don’t really exist. Or maybe it is the oysters?

Beckett plasters a huge grin on his face. “Oh, don’t you worry, Ari. Nolan is sleeping through the night. They don’t even know I’m not there. And tomorrow I’ll be as chipper as a bird.”

“How is that?” Ari asks, crossing her arms.

“Loads and loads of coffee,” Beckett calls over his shoulder as he hurries away.

Miranda pulls my attention back. “What is going on in your head? You look deep in thought. What relationships are weird?”

“Nothing. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Want a cookie?” Bash holds out a cookie from the annual cookie bake-off. Another thing about the Crane hockey team is that not only do they love their ridiculous nicknames, but they also love their traditions. Out of sheer boredom, someone suggested a cookie-baking competition a couple of years ago during bye week in Barbados, and now it’s something we will forever have during bye week. As the story goes, Bash even earned his nickname, Cookie, on that Barbados trip after securing the win. He lost to Ari, who is now his fiancée, last year in Texas, but reclaimed his title this year with his brown-butter chocolate-chip recipe.

His cookies are delicious. I voted for them, but the sight of the rich, sugary treat makes my stomach sour.

I shake my head adamantly and immediately regret it. “Ow,” I mutter, pressing my palms to my temples.

“Oh my gosh. You probably have a concussion,” Miranda chastises. “Let me get you some ice. You’re going to have quite the bruise on your cheek tomorrow. Coach isn’t going to be happy.”

“He won’t care,” I say.

“Yeah, as long as Hollywood can play, Coach won’t give a damn about the bruise,” Bash says. “We’re hockey players. Bruises are normal.”

“I guess that’s true.” Miranda shrugs, wrapping a handful of ice in a dish towel.

“Yeah, it will make me look tough, Sunshine.”

She presses her lips together, silencing a laugh. “Okay, then.” She grabs my hand and leads me to the sectional in the great room.

I flop onto the soft cushions. She settles beside me and presses the towel-wrapped ice to my cheek.

“Feel better?” she asks. The ice is cold, but where her fingers curl is a quiet warmth that hums against my skin, a small electric ache that heats my entire body. The current finds its way to my chest, pressing against my ribs. My heart scrambles into an uneven rhythm.

For a moment, I’m lost in her stare. The steady pull from her deep green irises draws me in. The connection has me feeling all sorts of things I can’t quite name. “Not really.” The admission is true on more than one level.

 “Maybe a keg stand wasn’t the smartest move?”

I force a lighthearted grin. “I beg to differ, but I’m glad you’re here to take care of me. If we were roomies, you could be there to help me out of the consequences of my stupid decisions.”

She laughs. “Or you could just not make stupid decisions.”

Her beautiful laughter intensifies the ache in my head. Maybe I do have a concussion. “I can’t.” I point at my head. “Unformed brain.”

Miranda smiles. “True.”

“But that’s why you should move in, bestie. I need you.” Emphasis is placed on the last statement. My alcohol-induced words flow more freely than they should.

Now that the idea of Miranda and me being roommates is in my head, I can’t think about anything else. From the moment I met her, I’ve been captivated and drawn to her like a force. She’s gorgeous, sure, with her stunningly vibrant green eyes and long, wavy auburn hair. But more than her beauty, I’m mesmerized by her energy. She’s special. I picked up early on that she wasn’t interested in dating, so I quickly slid into the friendship role. And it’s great. Being around Miranda makes me happy. She’s one of those people who makes the lives of those around her better. I crave her company and her light.

“Moving in?” Anna takes a seat beside Miranda, followed by Jaden.

“Nice, Hollywood. Got yourself a roommate?” Jaden asks.

“No,” Miranda replies quickly. “I simply mentioned that I wanted to start looking for a place of my own, and he threw out the idea of me moving into his home, but it’s not happening.”

“Why?” Jaden asks. “He has a sick house, and he’s pretty clean for a dude. Right, Hollywood? You put down the toilet seat and all that shit?”

“Yes,” I sigh. “I wasn’t raised in a barn. Of course, I put the toilet seat down. Not that it would matter because she’d have her own bathroom.”

“Aw, see. Your own bathroom and everything. You should do it.” Jaden gives Miranda a smile.

“I’m sure Miles picks up after himself. That’s not the issue,” she says.

Anna furrows her brows. “You’re not happy with the suite at the hotel? I told you that you’re more than welcome to stay with Jaden and me. We have the space. Right, babe?” She looks at Jaden.

Jaden nods. “Of course. You’re always welcome.”

Miranda gives them a tight smile. “I appreciate the offer, I do. But I think it’s time for me to get my own place. I’m almost twenty-seven. Anna is settling down. So maybe I should, too.”

Anna squeezes Miranda’s leg. “You do whatever makes you happy.”

“Yeah, that’s my vote, too,” Jaden says. “The happiness thing.”

“That’s not my vote,” I whisper. I close my eyes and lay my head in Miranda’s lap. She keeps the makeshift ice pack pressed to my bruised cheek. “You know my vote.”

She brushes a stray hair off my forehead, and the touch sends a trail of goose bumps down my arms.

“Aw, come on. You can help me house hunt. It’ll be fun,” she offers.

“Living together would be fun—and economical. It’s the smart decision.”

“If we’re talking smart decisions, we should revisit your brilliant keg stand.”

I tap her knee. “Shh… none of that right now.”

She giggles. “That’s what I thought.”