Grumpy Mother Pucker (Hollis U #2)

Chapter 1

Travis

Itrudge up the porch steps leading up to my house, my body aching.

I feel like I’ve been through a trash compactor. I let out a groan as I rub the back of my neck.

This week was rough. Back-to-back home games, then an away game, plus training and conditioning. Not to mention all the homework and that exam I had.

That’s what being a college hockey player is, though. Nonstop.

As much as I love being the starting goalie for Hollis U, it takes a toll on me. Quiet nights in are a fucking godsend.

I ignore my phone buzzing in my pocket with a constant stream of texts. Those are my teammates trying to get me to go out for my twenty-first birthday, which is tonight.

But I’m not in the mood.

Yeah, I know it’s lame to stay in for a milestone birthday. I don’t care.

I’m constantly around my teammates, and yeah, I like them, but I’m an introvert to the core. When I’m exhausted, I want to be alone. And I know that if I answer my phone or text, they’ll goad me into going out and getting wasted, which is the last thing I’m in the mood to do right now.

As I trudge up the final porch step, I glance down and squint. What the hell is that?

It takes a second for me to recognize the colorful smattering on the wooden step. I let out an annoyed sigh. Confetti.

Which means one thing: my roommates are throwing me a surprise party.

I close my eyes and huff out a breath. I’m so not in the fucking mood for a surprise birthday party.

For a split second, I think about turning around and heading back to my car so I can drive off, but I stop myself. I can’t pull a jerk move like that.

So I step forward and open the front door. It’s pitch black inside. When I flip on the lights and close the door behind me, I brace myself.

A bunch of people jump out from behind all the furniture in the house I share with three of my teammates.

“Surprise!” they all yell.

Nick St. George, my best friend, roommate, and teammate, runs over to me, beer can in hand.

“Happy birthday, Travvie!” He pats my cheek. I glare at him.

“Dude,” I mutter.

He just laughs. “I know, I know. You said you wanted a quiet night in, but you know I couldn’t let that slide.”

He cracks open the beer and hands it to me. A second later, my two other roommates and teammates, Blake Morrissey and Leo Peretti, walk out holding a giant sheet cake with a photo of my sleeping face. I hold in a laugh. Okay, that’s pretty funny.

The whole crowd starts singing happy birthday horribly off-key.

Nick pats my shoulder. “We couldn’t let you celebrate your twenty-first alone.”

I roll my eyes at him. “You know I hate you, right?” I say, a tinge of good-nature in my annoyed tone.

Nick’s head falls back as he cackles. “Aww, I love you too, Travvie.”

I take a long swig of beer, resigned to the fact that the quiet night I wanted is long gone. When I blow out the candles, everyone cheers.

Nick holds up a bottle of tequila. “Who’s ready for some shots with the birthday boy?”

* * *

An hour later, I’m leaning against the dining table, which is covered in bottles of alcohol, beer cans, and the giant birthday cake that’s no one’s touched yet.

Nick’s girlfriend, Poppy, walks up to me with a shy smile on her face. “Hey. Sorry about all this,” she says. “I tried to talk him out of throwing you a surprise party, but he was dead set on it.”

“It’s okay. I know how much that guy loves a good party. Talking him out of one is impossible.”

She tucks a chunk of her sandy blonde hair behind her ear, chuckling softly. “You’re right about that.”

I still have no idea how the hell those two are a couple. Poppy’s super smart. A literal human encyclopedia. She has a hugely successful YouTube channel where she talks about all sorts of academic subjects.

Nick is a dumbass. I love the guy, and he’s the best hockey player at Hollis U, but using his brain isn’t something he’s good at.

Last semester, he was failing half his classes and in danger of being kicked off the team until Poppy became his tutor.

Then they fell for each other. The rest is history, I guess.

Poppy looks over at Nick, standing just a few feet away, playing beer pong with Leo. He sinks the ball into a red solo cup, causing Leo to groan in frustration before he downs the beer in the cup.

Nick smirks, then walks over to Poppy, wraps his arm around her, and kisses her.

He turns to me. “Everyone will be out of here by midnight. My birthday gift to you, Travvie.”

“A better gift would have been no party at all,” I say.

“Come on, dude. You need some human interaction. Can’t be living like a recluse at your age.”

“Recluse? That’s a big word for you.” I look at Poppy. “Your brain is rubbing off on him.”

She and Nick laugh. She sets a timer on her phone for an hour from now. “The countdown to the end of the party starts now,” she says.

“Thanks, Poppy. You’re the best.”

She walks off. Nick starts to follow her, but turns around. “You don’t have to take everything so seriously,” he says to me. That teasing glint in his eyes fades. “I know how hard you work. I know how much you stress about hockey and school.” He pauses to swallow. “And your mom.”

His gaze turns hesitant, like he’s working up the nerve to say more.

“You know it would piss her off if she found out that you spent your twenty-first birthday home alone, doing nothing.”

I huff out a breath. “You’re right.”

He walks off. I check my phone, skimming the slew of texts until I find one from my mom.

That familiar flicker of worry springs through my chest. But then I read her message.

Happy birthday to you, honey :) Do something fun tonight, okay? You deserve it. Love you.

I text her back, telling her that I will. The stress fades, and for a moment, I’m relieved. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to feel anything but worry when I see a text or call from her.

I already know the answer.

I bury that thought and sip more of my beer. A second later, Nick’s twin sister Anna walks up to the table and cuts a corner slice of my birthday cake. A familiar tension grips the muscles in my neck and shoulders, like it always does when she’s around.

“That’s not your cake,” I mutter.

Anna looks at me, her lips pursed in annoyance. Then she holds my gaze as she takes a bite.

“You weren’t eating it,” she says around a mouthful before swallowing and taking another bite.

A restless feeling swoops through me. Anna St. George has always made me crazy.

I think back to when I met her, all the way back in middle school, when Nick and I first became friends. She was a little high-strung and hyper-focused on school. One of those kids who needed to always get straight As. Came off like a know-it-all.

If someone around her pronounced a word wrong or used bad grammar, she’d correct them.

In school, she was the student who raised her hand whenever the teacher asked a question.

No matter how tough it was, she always knew the answer.

And if you didn’t know the answer, she’d roll her eyes at you. It was obnoxious as hell.

I’d give her shit for what a nerd she was. She’d give it right back to me for being a dumb jock and never speaking up in class. Whatever. I didn’t have anything to prove to anyone, least of all her.

So this is how we exist now. Bickering and arguing every single time we’re around each other.

She rolls her eyes at me as she finishes her piece of cake. She and Nick don’t look like twins. They look more like cousins than siblings, honestly.

Anna’s hair is a lighter shade of brown; Nick’s is almost black. And her eyes aren’t as dark either. They’re an intriguing mix of honey, gold, and brown. If I didn’t dislike her so much, I’d probably think they were pretty.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat anything sweet,” she says dismissively.

“That’s because sugar tastes like shit,” I say, holding her gaze while trying to ignore how mesmerizing the color of her eyes is.

Her pouty little mouth purses like she’s pissed. I fight a smile. It always feels really damn good when I get a rise out of her.

“I guess it’s no surprise that you like it so much,” I say. “You’ve got the palette of a toddler. All I’ve ever seen you eat since middle school are cake and cookies and candy. Are you capable of eating a grown-up meal?”

She tosses her empty plate in the nearby trash can, then glares at me. “I eat just fine,” she snaps. “Unlike you. I’ve only ever seen you consume water, chicken, and protein shakes.” The bridge of her ski-slope nose wrinkles as she makes a grossed-out face at me. “Yuck.”

“I’m an athlete, Anna. Fueling my body is serious business. I can’t eat like a kindergartener, unlike you.”

“Yeah, instead you eat like a humanoid in a sci-fi movie.”

Irritation simmers through me. She’s so damn mouthy. She always has a smartass comment ready to go. Drives me up the fucking wall.

She tilts her head at me, her golden-brown eyes sharp and focused. She tucks a chunk of her long brown hair behind her ears, revealing the delicate curve of her neck.

Sometimes I forget how pretty she is. I’m usually too distracted arguing with her to notice, but in moments like this, when we’re not talking—when we’re just looking at each other—I can’t deny it. Anna is fucking hot.

My gaze dips below her face, appreciating the low neckline of the top she’s wearing that gives me a peek at her cleavage. Her boobs aren’t big, but I like that. I’m a fan of cute tits.

I glance down at the smooth curve of her hips and her long legs, then I look at her ass. A little plump and very cute.

“You know what would be awesome?” Anna says. “If you were stranded on a desert island with nothing to eat, slowly starving.”

That cloud of lust hovering over me bursts.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I mutter.

“And all you had to survive on were your protein shakes and bland chicken,” she says. “Day after day, week after week, month after month, eating the same tasteless stuff. You’d be begging for something sugary. Like cake.”

She glances pointedly at the sheet cake on the table before looking back at me, her mouth curved up in a smirk.

“You’re insane,” I say, sipping more beer.

“Technically, you’d survive if you had enough calories. The human body can live on surprisingly little,” she says matter-of-factly. “Your metabolism would slow down, but you wouldn’t need to exert much energy if you’re just lying on the beach and the weather is warm and comfortable.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes.

I hate it when she’s like this, when she goes into know-it-all mode.

She’s the typical annoying pre-med student at Hollis.

She’s always got some random science fact in her pocket, ready to go on and on about it, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

She just likes to hear herself talk, likes to show off how smart she is.

I wonder what kind of doctor she’ll end up being.

Probably like the ones that treated my mom, who lectured her about how her symptoms were normal.

The ones who dismissed her concerns and ignored her requests for more tests to figure out what was wrong…

which led to them missing her diagnosis until it was almost too late…

I look at Anna, even more pissed. I’d bet a million bucks she’ll be just like them.

“I’d give anything to be stranded on a deserted island just to get away from you right about now,” I mutter.

Anna just smiles, like my pissed-off mood amuses her.

“Why are you even here?” I ask.

“To steal your cake. Duh.”

She grabs a red solo cup and pours a bunch of Sprite in it, then a tiny splash of whiskey. An irritated noise rips from my throat. Jesus. She can’t even make a proper drink.

“You know what I would do if I were stuck on a deserted island with you, Travis?” she says, looking at her cup and not me. “I’d hoard all my sugary snacks from you. No matter how much you begged and pleaded for me to share with you, I’d ignore you. And then I’d eat them right in front of you.”

I grit my teeth. That’s when I realize just how hard I’m breathing, how hard my heart is beating against my ribcage.

“You’d be like, ‘Anna! I was wrong! Cake is delicious! Please share some with me!’” she says, making her voice high and pitchy and whiny. Jesus Christ, she’s such a fucking brat.

I glower at her. “I don’t sound like that.”

“That is exactly how you would sound if you were desperate and starving.”

“Shut. Up.”

She just lets out an easy chuckle, that pouty little mouth curved up in a smile that’s half sweet, half snarky.

She steps over to the cake and swipes her finger along the edge. She wiggles her frosting-covered finger, then sucks it into her mouth, holding eye contact with me the whole time. She makes a soft moaning sound as she licks it off.

Something inside my belly ignites. I feel dizzy all of a sudden.

She spins around and starts to walk off. She tosses a wink at me over her shoulder. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

I let out a breath, my entire body tense and hot as I watch her stroll away.

I can’t fucking stand that woman.