The Pucker Next Door (Puckers #3)
1. Stick It
CHAPTER 1
STICK IT
SEBASTIAN NATHAN “STORM” NORMAN
Summer - Off-season Conditioning Camp
“Yeah, Big D, stick it!” That’s not something I ever thought I’d yell at another man. If the dude on the wild bronc in the middle of Lewistown’s Rodeo Stadium holds on for eight seconds to a bucking horse, it deserves some celebration.
Plus, he’s my teammate. No matter what shit we have going on in our lives, we all support each other. Big D, aptly nicknamed for his sheer size and ability as the enforcer on our team—is Montana born and bred.
He jumps off the bronc and hits the dirt with such bravado, his boots kick up swirls of dust behind him. The crowd erupts in cheers because he’s had the best time of the night. He retrieves his hat, the long-leather fringe on his well-worn chaps flapping with each stomp. With the equally worn and dusty black Stetson held up in the air, he waves at the fans with a cocky grin.
He’s well known for being both a hockey player and a cowboy, just like Duke.
“Don’t encourage him, Storm. He’s lucky he didn’t fall on his ass. I need him in top shape this season.” Duke scowls to my left, although I guess I should call him Coach Daniels from now on. I’ve already had to bite my tongue from calling him by his hockey nickname “Cowboy” a few times this week.
He’s been promoted to head up The Puckers team coaching staff for this coming season. I’m proud as hell for him; he deserves it. He’s been an awesome mentor for me on our semi-pro team in Los Angeles, given he’s been around the professional leagues for years. Only now, we walk that fine line between being good friends off the ice and him being the boss on it.
“Lucky bastard. I don’t know how Big D does this. Just watching him getting bucked around out there makes my balls cry.” Saint talks a little too loud to my right, and the country chicks two rows in front of him turn and smile and giggle. He sends them one of his trademark smoldering stares, often hailed as the guy on the team with a movie star face and a charming personality by the puck bunnies who follow us. He’s also the biggest playboy on the team, in my opinion.
“Me either. My ass and thighs are chafed from all the riding we did this week. And his gets jack hammered in that saddle by a bronc? Fuck that.” I complain, but seriously, I enjoy every minute on Coach Daniel’s Montana ranch where he holds an off-season hockey conditioning camp each summer.
Between the big sky and the majestic mountains surrounding the hills and the prairie plains of his old family homestead, the only thing missing is an ice rink. Although, he says plans are in the works to build one. For now, he swears hard work on the ranch prepares us well for the coming hockey season.
The team bonds over the week here while throwing hay bales, riding the range, herding cattle, branding the livestock, and sheering the sheep, and just about any other thing that needs done. He gets cheap labor; I get a chafed ass. Every muscle in my body and every inch of my skin screams for some icy and hot soothing. He’s right, though. After this, I’m mentally and physically ready for the hockey season to start.
For a kid from Oklahoma who grew up in the city, not on a farm and nowhere near horses, this experience has been amazing. I have a big goal this season, too—to get called up to the pros. I’ve worked hard and matured as Coach puts it. Enough of being semi-pro. I’m ready to level up as a first line goalie for a professional team.
I love the Puckers and all the guys, though. Duke, Tucker, Beau, Big D, and Saint will always be like brothers to me; even though Tucker got called up to the pros, playing for the L.A. Vipers. For the rest of us, our time is coming. I know it. These guys are the best, and we’ll always have a bond that can’t be broken, no matter where we play hockey.
Tonight, we stand with the crowd of people, and whistle and clap as we watch Big D claim his prize—a huge silver belt buckle. He’s about the only guy I know who could pull off wearing it, too. I don’t doubt he’ll be strutting around the ice rink wearing that thing when we get back home.
The woman who hands it to him is none other than the rodeo queen herself, according to the words in glittery red lettering on a white satin sash across her chest.
Kallie something I think her name is; like the other guys, I didn’t get past the first name when she was introduced over the loudspeaker at the start of the night, what with her racing out on a palomino while holding the American flag. She boasted a beautiful rack in a tight white tank top, with a red cowboy hat, a pair of dark blue wranglers and red boots, and her auburn hair flowing in the breeze. I’ve never had a thing for cowgirls, but I could see the attraction.
Apparently, so could Big D. He not only takes his prize buckle, but he leans in closer to her ear. Whatever it is he says, I’m guessing it’s something dirty, given how red her face turns. I’m surprised she doesn’t slap him, but instead she turns on her heel and exits the stage.
“Ah, hell. We better rescue him before he makes a total ass of himself,” Saint says to my right. “Ready to get shit-faced on the last night of camp, coach?”
“I’ll sit this one out, guys. Phoebe and the kids are waiting for me back at the cabin.” Duke’s scowl slides into a sly grin.
Tucker stayed back at the ranch with Whitney, too, instead of coming out and rooting for Big D. And Beau took Addie out for a nice dinner in town. They all seem perfectly content these days to skip any late night fun at bars and parties. Can’t say I blame them; I’d prefer to stare at a pretty woman who is mine all night instead of the mugs of my teammates.
Of course, hanging out with these guys doesn’t make it easy to find the right woman. I’d almost go as far to say Big D and Saint are man hoes; puck bunnies wait around every corner, making us easy targets for their attention. These guys love to party, and hell, I’m not tied down yet, so I often join them for something to do.
In reality, though, I’m more of a home-body, comfortable staying in to cook and read a good book or play a video game on a Friday night rather than going out. But over the past week of camp, Duke and Tucker and Beau have been pretty cozy with their women and it struck a chord in me. Jealousy, perhaps.
All I know is, this could finally be my year to break into a pro team and it feels monumental. If it happens, I’d like to have a special woman by my side to celebrate with. I’m ready to find her. The question is how.
“Looks like it’s just the three of us, Saint.” I sigh. I don’t figure my luck will be with me tonight to meet a woman here in Montana. If I did, I sure wouldn’t want her hands on my raw ass right now. Besides, we fly back to California tomorrow, and I have a new apartment to move into. I’m excited to get everything squared away before the hockey season begins.
“Yep. Let’s go raise some hell in this small town.” He finishes with a yee-haw yell. It’s more likely he and Big D will raise it, and I’ll just come along for the ride and make sure they don’t get in too much trouble. I catch hell from them all sometimes for not being a wild party animal. In fact, if they hadn’t already nicknamed me Storm, they’d probably change it to Grampa.
“Better come back to the ranch in one piece tonight. And look out for each other, dammit.” Coach scowls again, calling after us. I’m hoping that scowl doesn’t stay permanently etched on his face all season.