Sweet as Puck (San Diego Seals Hockey #1)

1. Cara

one

Cara

Late March

“ A re you going to tell me what you’re working on, sweet lady?” the cute barista teased. He placed my hot chocolate down on the counter. It was topped with a healthy serve of whipped cream and two marshmallows—exactly how I liked it. I hummed and reached for it as soon as he’d popped on the lid.

“Well?” he prompted, resting both hands on the counter. He wiggled his eyebrows expectantly.

I blushed and bit down on my lip, my smile turning shy. My cheeks heated. I shook my head. I couldn’t tell him. But he already knew that. It had become a running joke between us—he asked what I was writing, but I never answered.

I picked up the takeaway cup and wiggled my fingers, a wave goodbye the only thing I was brave enough to do around him.

I shuffled across the lobby as quickly as I could, racing back to my office. I had a meeting with my dad to get to. My phone rang as I pressed the button on the lift, my best friend’s name lighting up the screen.

“Hey, Zali,” I greeted her, a smile splitting my lips.

“Oh, thank God,” she answered as the doors opened and people poured out. I followed a man in and stood on the opposite side to him. Zali continued, saying, “You have no idea how much I need a girls’ night. Men.” She huffed.

I giggled, then snorted and slapped my forearm over my mouth, trying not to spill my drink. The man next to me turned away but not before I saw his lips twitch. My cheeks heated, and another snort-laugh escaped me when Zali put on a dramatic sigh.

“I’d love to,” I squeaked, trying to stop my giggles. “Is it a cupcakes-and-ice-cream emergency?” I asked.

“I think so,” she said seriously. “At least we could say that and try out that new dessert bar we saw.”

“It’s a dire state of affairs,” I responded, biting back my smile. “You’d better text me the details.”

“I will. See you tonight.”

***

Juggling a stack of printouts as I walked to Dad’s office, I sorted the payroll records, fishing out the ones I needed. My shoes were hurting my feet—but Chucks weren’t exactly office wear—the underwire from my bra was stabbing me, and I’d been completely overwhelmed since starting my job. I hated it, but at least I was working again and could pay my rent and go out with friends when I got the odd invite.

I’d been coming to my parents’ business for as long as I could remember. I’d worked a few shifts on the retail floor at Delaware’s Warehouse—their sporting goods store—when they were short staffed but never in the office. Dad always said that I needed to make my own way in life. He wasn’t going to let me turn into one of those nepo babies. That was fine by me. Working for Professor Reid in the research role for his podcast, Tarnished Crown was an experience. But graduation had come and gone, and my role with Tristan was winding down. The first episodes of the podcast had gone to air, and I was only intermittently needed for the movie screenplay. I needed a regular job. There was an opening at Delaware’s Warehouse. It was a natural fit.

Dad hadn’t made it easy—I still had to apply like everyone else—but with a business degree under my belt, I was at least qualified to fill the role. I’d fumbled my way through the interview and walked out thinking I had no chance, but it mustn’t have been so bad. I was now the new junior admin team member.

Mum was right, though—she’d told me I’d be miserable, and I was. It wasn’t the people—everyone was lovely. But, oh my goodness gracious, the work was so terribly dry and boring. I wasn’t cut out for this kind of job. It had very quickly become apparent to me that I needed creativity and flexibility. Every time I walked into the office, my fingers itched. I had a computer right in front of me and my manuscript was right there, begging me to open it up.

But I couldn’t.

I had to wait until my lunch break and my boss didn’t like us sitting at our desks to eat—something about the great ant invasion of 2020—and writing a steamy sex scene in the lunchroom with people looking over my shoulder wasn’t exactly a good idea.

At least my story was going well. I loved researching every minute detail of a topic, even if it only ended up as one sentence in my manuscript. I loved getting lost in a story, watching as the words flowed onto paper. I bled my emotions onto the page, and I was in love with my characters.

Working for Professor Reid had given me a taste of writing professionally, and I wanted more. But true crime wasn’t my passion. Writing about people falling in love was. Watching Zali fall in love with her guys was inspiring. I wanted happily ever afters, swoony dates, and damaged heroes so totally gone for their curvy women. I wanted girls like me to read them and think, “Relationship goals.” I wanted big, beautiful women to be inspired to find their guys.

Yes, guys as in plural.

I wanted my own happily ever after too. I wanted my men to stumble across me and eat me up with their gaze. I wanted their pulses to skyrocket and their self-control to be pushed to the limit just by having to resist me.

Then I wanted them to fall hopelessly in love with me and each other too.

I wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, I knew that—a nerdy bookworm who actually didn’t mind her rounded belly, thick thighs, and big butt—but I had hope. Surely there was a guy or two who loved curves.

I wanted the kind of relationship my parents had. They loved each other as much now as they did when Dad had fallen for Mum. She was seventeen when they’d met. They’d had me almost straight away—Mum had barely turned eighteen—but they waited to get married. I didn’t care either way about having kids. But I did want the love story. And a cat or ten.

For the moment, I was juggling my manuscript and being able to eat. Even though it was dry as dust, my job had its advantages. We were the key sponsor of the first NHL visit to Australia. Two Californian teams—the LA Kings and San Diego Seals were playing games in Brisbane, Sydney, and Melbourne, then visiting Adelaide for a fan day.

Dad was more of a rugby fan, but he knew an up-and-coming spectator sport when he saw it. Hockey was it. I’d loved it from the moment I’d seen The Mighty Ducks as a kid. I watched every game at Mum and Dad’s house, hogging their cinema screen whenever there was a game being telecast.

My love of hockey got him thinking, and as CEO of Delaware’s Warehouse, he made things happen. He contacted the NHL the moment there were whispers of an exhibition trip. Delaware’s Warehouse was now the official sponsor of the series and he’d negotiated a hands-on role so I could see the games live. We were only a few weeks away from travelling with the Seals for their five exhibition games.

I. Couldn’t. Wait.

I was beside myself with excitement for the trip.

Seriously, the only thing hotter than a hockey player in a romance novel was one in real life.

I rounded the corner and waved at Carol, Dad’s EA. She held up her hand in a stopping gesture, and called, “Cara, wait. He’s—”

I waved her off. I’d already checked that Dad wasn’t in a meeting, and I could wait for him to hang up, but I couldn’t wait for him to come to me. I was on a mission. I needed to get this payroll problem sorted so I could finish on time tonight. I had a DP scene burning a hole in my concentration—and my panties—that I needed to get on paper.

“I’ll only be a few minutes. I just have one question, and I can ask it between calls.” I knocked quietly on Dad’s door before pushing it open and creeping inside. I didn’t want to interrupt an important call if he was on one.

A moan filled with ecstasy hit my ears. Skin slapped together.

I froze.

Looked up.

Dad was half naked, his shirt, tie, and pants undone.

No. I shook my head trying to clear the visual. But it didn’t go away.

No amount of brain bleach could scrub the visual of his arousal.

I never, ever wanted to see his penis again. But it would be burned into my memory forever.

The only thing worse than seeing my dad’s penis was watching him thrust inside a woman who wasn’t my mother.

Danielle, the new girl—the person I was here to see Dad about—was on her back on the desk, her arms above her head as she held onto the edge. Her perky breasts bounced wildly as my father moved inside her. She had her slim leg hooked over Dad’s shoulder, and his hand was curled low near her hip. Her other leg was spread wide, Dad holding it out at her ankle. His gaze was locked on where they were connected, watching as he sank into her over and over.

She closed her eyes and went rigid underneath him.

It was like a car crash. I couldn’t look away.

I tried to tear my eyes from them.

I tried to unsee what was unfolding in front of me.

But I couldn’t.

I even noticed the little things, details that I knew I would relive over and over. Dad wasn’t wearing a condom. She had a piercing that glinted in the light every time Dad tilted her hips up as he slammed forward.

Outrage filled me.

My face heated with embarrassment.

This was a private moment that I shouldn’t be witnessing.

But no one should be seeing this.

Dad shouldn’t be doing it.

Tears filled my eyes, blurring my vision. Righteous indignity filled me. Anger and hurt fought for prime position.

How could he do this?

How could he cheat on Mum?

He was supposed to love Mum, not this woman.

Maybe this was another man, not my dad. Perhaps he was a long-lost brother who looked exactly like my father.

“Dad?” I squeaked, shock raising my voice to a pitch akin to a mouse’s.

He snapped his head up. His eyes locked on mine.

I watched in horror as the emotions flickered across his face as clear as day—shock, shame, then ecstasy.

Danielle cried out, moaning loudly.

Belatedly, I realized I hadn’t even closed the door. There was no hiding it from the others in the adjacent offices.

Did they know?

They had to. My gut sank. Carol had tried to stop me. She knew and she hadn’t said anything.

Realization sank in. This wasn’t the first time Dad had cheated. How many women had there been?

Dad threw his head back and groaned, his whole body shuddering as Danielle’s orgasm pulled him over too.

Bile churned in my belly.

I choked out a cry, and my tears spilled down my cheeks. I dropped the papers. The clipped sheafs landed with a thud on the carpet as I whirled around and dashed out of his office. The door bounced off the wall as I shoved through it, hip-checking it as I ran.

Carol held her hands up and shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry. I tried to warn you.”

“Don’t talk to me,” I hissed. I bit back a sob and clamped my hand over my mouth.

Tears tracked down my face as I ran, taking the stairs down the two levels to the ground floor. My heart was beating triple time, my breaths shallow and stuttered as I fought to heave in a breath.

The people in the lobby collectively froze when I careened through the door. My sobs echoed in the large space, but I didn’t care. I wanted out. I needed air. I needed my mum.

Like a mirage, she appeared out of nowhere and I collapsed into her arms.

“Cara, honey, what’s going on?” Mum asked as she hugged me tight.

We were in the middle of the stream of people moving in and out of the building. I could feel their eyes on me, their judgement, but I couldn’t stop crying if I tried.

“Dad,” I started, my sobs increasing again until I couldn’t speak. The colour drained from Mum’s face, and I sucked in a shuddery breath, forcing my tears into submission. I shook my head and Mum choked out a cry. “He’s done something terrible.”

Mum swallowed and looked around as if seeking an escape route. I wanted to be able to disappear, to become invisible. Maybe I wasn’t the only one.

She wrapped her arm around my waist and guided me outside, through the underpass crossing the Gold Coast Highway, and into the park on the waterfront. We were almost directly across from the exclusive marina where my bestie, Zali, used to moor her yacht, and the familiarity helped.

Mum picked a park bench that faced the water and was shaded by a pandanus palm. The water glimmered like diamonds under the autumn sun. The breeze cooled my flushed skin.

She interlaced her fingers with mine and squeezed my hand, giving me a moment to collect myself. I didn’t even know where to start, but there was no way I was hiding this from her. Except how did I break her heart? How could I tell her that her husband was a cheating cheater who cheats?

My phone vibrated. I needed another moment to collect my thoughts anyway, so I pulled it out and checked to see who it was. “Dad” was written on the screen, the red hang-up button screaming at me to press it.

“Answer it, honey. Maybe it was a misunderstanding,” Mum murmured, patting me on the knee with her free hand. She’d know the truth soon enough. I answered and put the phone on speaker.

“Is she gone?” I asked.

Mum pressed her lips together and sucked in a sharp breath.

“She is. Look, Cara, I’m sorry you saw me in the compromising position. It was a mistake. It’ll never happen again. Please, please don’t tell your mother,” Dad begged.

I hated him.

I hated the sound of his voice and the way his apology didn’t even really sound like one.

Mum closed her eyes, and I watched as a tear ran down her cheek. Her shoulders slumped as she exhaled slowly.

“How many times have you cheated on Mum?” I asked, my voice sounding a lot harsher than I even intended.

“That’s not important,” he soothed and my skin crawled. “What is important is that it’s not going to happen again.”

“How many times have you slept with Danielle?” I asked again.

Mum lifted her tear-stained face to mine, and my heart broke at the utter devastation in her red-rimmed eyes.

Dad sighed as if he was running out of patience. “Two—no three—times. But I’ll be stronger. I’ll do the right thing from now on.”

Mum took the phone out of my hand and took it off speaker. She pressed it up to her cheek and squared her shoulders, sitting up straighter. When she spoke, she was deadly calm.

“Don’t you dare ask our daughter to cover for you. Cara isn’t one of those patsies you have working for you.”

I heard Dad’s protest through the line as Mum hung up on him. She held on to my phone, flipping it end to end against her knee.

“I’m sorry, Mum,” I whispered.

“You have nothing to apologize for, honey. And you were right, he did do something terrible.” She shook her head, and my phone started ringing again. It was Dad.

“He wasn’t wearing a condom,” I whispered.

I watched as her sadness morphed into rage. Her features hardened and her jaw ticked as she ground her teeth together.

My phone stopped ringing, then started again a moment later.

She answered it, putting it on speaker. “David.” Her greeting was clipped, more of a snarl than anything else.

“Carina, I’m sorry.” He paused as if waiting for Mum to say something, but she sat stoic, anger radiating from her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

My breath wobbled as I inhaled, fresh tears falling down my cheeks. My heart hurt. They weren’t perfect, but they’d always had the strongest relationship I’d ever seen. Only moments earlier I’d been thinking to myself that I wanted a marriage like theirs. Now, though? Not so much.

What had happened to make it all go so off the rails?

“You slept with her three times,” Mum stated bluntly.

There was silence on the other end of the line for far too long before his one-word answer came through. “Yes.”

“You didn’t feel like you needed to own up to it after the first or second time? Were you going to come clean this time, or are we only having this conversation because you got caught?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer before she asked more rapid-fire questions. The control she exercised in not raising her voice to scream and shout her pain at him, was awe-inspiring. I had no idea how she managed to do it.

“You didn’t feel like you should say anything after you first thought of her like that? The first time you looked at her and wanted her? What about the first kiss? The first touch? You never stopped yourself. You went back for more—not once, not twice, but three times.”

“No, but—”

“I don’t trust you anymore.”

“Can I earn it back?” he asked.

I almost felt sorry for Dad. He sounded genuinely regretful.

“No.” Mum bit her lip, her eyes glassy as she blinked back tears and sucked in a slow breath. With a hoarse whisper, she asked, “Why, David? Why did you do it?”

There was another long pause before he answered. “I liked the attention. I liked that a pretty girl, someone so young and gorgeous, wanted me. I felt like I was on top of the world.”

“So, I’m not pretty anymore? I’m too old?” Her voice cracked and she dashed her tears away angrily, her hands shaking as she did.

Mum was beautiful. She had flawless skin without a single wrinkle and the most incredible green eyes. Her brown hair was long, almost down to her waist, and tipped with blonde. But like me, she was a bigger girl—our bodies jiggled when we walked. We had wide hips and thick legs. Our bellies weren’t flat, and our breasts and bottoms were way more than a handful. I thought Dad loved that about her.

But I was wrong.

I thought I’d find a boy or two who loved that about me too.

Was I wrong about that as well?

I watched as his continued silence shattered her confidence.

Finally, he sighed. “I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Please enlighten me, then,” she bit back. When he remained closed-lipped, she added, “I’m moving into the beach house. We’re done.”

Mum’s hands were shaking when she hung up. I reached out, clasping her hands tight. Her breath hitched and she slid her eyes closed. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she curled into herself, her back bowing as she rocked back and forth. My heart shattered. Logically, I knew it wasn’t, but it felt like my fault—if I hadn’t walked in on Dad, she wouldn’t be sitting in front of me, heartbroken. But knowing the truth was better. Wasn’t it?

I hugged her close, and Mum cried against my shoulder, her sobs soaking my shirt. I wanted to fix things for her, to make it right. But I couldn’t.

Mum eventually pulled back. She wiped her tears and sucked in a breath. Then she squared her shoulders. She lifted her chin and exhaled slowly. Determination radiated from her.

Mum was the strongest person I knew. She was going to be okay.