PUCK (A BAD BOY HOCKEY ROMANCE)

D
ani

I
have
an uncanny ability to blame my mother for everything and this is no exception. This is the worst job I have ever accepted and after days of trying to rationalize and back out, I’ve only found a way to make it her fault.

My mother is not a bad person in general, at least not to others, but she is a terrible mother and has been my entire life. Same goes for her ability to function as a wife. My father is a great man and she dragged him and I through years of selfish behavior and neglect until my father finally gained the courage to throw her out. She left willingly, although she put on a show for us, but she never even made an attempt to take me with her. She just left, and never looked back.

That’s how my father came to meet Joanne, my step mom. She is kind, sweet, caring - everything that my own mother was not. Over the years she has showed my father what true love really is and has treated me like the daughter she never had. She saved me from years of therapy and taught me how to be a real woman - which is why I would do anything for her. It is also how I reluctantly made the decision to accept this position - I’m doing it for her.

Joanne has a son, Preston, or ‘Puck’, as his friends nick named him in high school. It’s also how his fans refer to him now. Puck is a couple of years older than me but we attended the same high school years ago. He was an arrogant prick then, and even more so now that he has become a celebrity of the sports world. He credits himself for becoming ice hockey’s first big name and single handedly bringing the sport the attention it deserves - and he’s right.

Back in high school I had a crush on him, along with most of the other girls. Puck was gorgeous then and even more so now, as much as I hate to admit it. He has hazel eyes and dirty blond hair that is always a perfect mess, like a surfer stepping out of the ocean. His body is muscular from top to bottom and he prides himself on keeping those muscles well defined. He treats his body like a temple. I think back then he did it for the attention it brought him from the girls. Now there’s also the fact that the way he performs and looks have everything to do with his success.

Of course Puck’s appearance still helps very much with the women. I know because he’s always being photographed with a different one. I’ve seen him in countless gossip magazines and celebrity sightings. I try to pretend he doesn’t exist, but his social media presence makes him impossible to ignore.

I would never admit to him that I thought he was cute, although I’m sure he knew. The only time he spoke to me was to make fun of me or get in a snide remark. Puck had an instant hatred for me from the day we met. It wouldn’t have mattered what I looked like or how I acted, he had no intention of giving me a chance. I dealt with it the best I could - until one day when he took it too far. He took it outside our family circle and I have never been able to forgive him. Shortly after, he was offered a scholarship and whisked away to a boarding school in Canada to play hockey. I was thrilled to see him go but it didn’t change anything. My life had already been ruined and it took me years to repair the damage. I’m obviously still holding on to some of the animosity.

As I hesitantly drive through the rolling hills, I pass huge mansions with sprawling grounds. It is taking everything I have not to turn around. I keep repeating ‘
I’m doing this for Joanne’
to remind myself how I let this happen. I try to focus on the beautiful scenery and occasional horses people keep in this part of town. Only a few minutes pass before I approach the tall iron gates. I take a deep breath before lowering my window and pushing the call button.

A man answers, and expecting my arrival, opens the gates and allows me to pass through. I slowly cruise down the long cobblestone driveway. As the large estate comes into full view, I am taken aback. I have worked for the rich and famous for years, but this house is by far the most amazing. It is absolutely beautiful.

It’s a huge European inspired stone masterpiece. There’s a carved cement fountain in the center of a large circular stone driveway. The wide, tall, wooden double front doors are set in an archway framed by two stone pillars. I stare for a few minutes, taking in the home and the grounds, before I remember why I am here and who owns it all. My initial sensation of disgust returns and I roll my eyes as I pull my bag from the seat beside me and step out of the car.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that I am a woman now, and a professional, and I have to try and handle myself that way. I raise my finger to ring the bell but the door opens before I make contact. On the other side is a short, well groomed man, probably just about my age.

“Hello,” he greets me happily with a wide smile, “you must be Dani Quinn, the chef I’ve heard so much about. Come in.”

I step inside and look around. The home as is impressive inside as it is outside. The floors are shiny, white marble. The ceilings must be over twenty feet high and there is a wall of glass doors ahead leading to the yard. There is a rolling staircase in front of me with intricately designed iron railings and below, arched entryways to the other rooms on the main floor.

“Spectacular, isn’t it?” the man asks me, breaking the silence.

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” I reply.

“I’m Steven,” he answers, holding out his hand, “I’m Mr. Tanner’s personal assistant.”

I return his handshake, “nice to meet you, Steven.”

“Let me show you to the kitchen,” Steven says as he begins to walk and signals for me to follow, “Puck will be just a few more minutes. He’s finishing up a conference call.”

I’m escorted through what I guess is the great room. It’s a combination of muted colors and the furnishings look very cozy and surround a tall, ornately framed fireplace. We proceed through another archway into a large kitchen. It’s the most beautiful, yet completely functional looking kitchen I have ever seen - and I’ve seen a lot. My eyes open wide as I look around at the hard wood floors and distressed white cabinets. There are top grade stainless appliances, a huge gas cooktop, and even a wood burning stove. It would be a dream for any chef to work in.

“Incredible, right?” Steven asks, noticing the look of awe on my face.

“Yes. It’s amazing,” I reply, still taking it all in.

“Not too bad for someone who can hardly boil water,” a familiar voice says from behind me.

I feel the bile rise in my throat and my sense of amazement is replaced with disgust. Preston. Puck. He’s here.

“I was just showing Ms. Quinn around, Puck,” Steven answers.

I take a breath and turn around. Even after years of seeing him on television and in photos, I still swallow hard while I quickly give Puck a once over. He is just as gorgeous as he was in high school, but now he’s a grown man. His once sinewy body is now more filled out and defined. I can see the ripples of muscle under his fitted tee shirt. His hair is dirty blond and tousled into a perfect mess - styled to look like he might have just rolled out of bed or come out of the ocean. As I look at his hazel eyes, I notice he’s looking right back at me, making me uncomfortable - just like we are teenagers again.

“Hello, Dani. You look just as beautiful as I remember,” Puck says, confidently leering at me.

“Thanks,” I reply. I take a moment to get my composure back before I can think of anything else to say. The way Puck looks, and the sincere complement he gave me, throw me off my game a bit but I don’t want him with the upper hand - especially right away.

“I was surprised when my mother told me you volunteered for the position,” he says, “I’ve heard that you're one of the ‘best in the biz’ but I never thought you would want to work for me, quite honestly.”

“Trust me, I don’t,” I reply coolly, “and I wouldn’t quite say ‘volunteered’ either. I’m here because Joanne asked me to be. As much as I have been looking forward to working again, she’s the
only
reason I’m here.” Steven must sense the tension because I notice him quietly backing out of the room.

“Down, girl,” Puck replies, sounding offended, “we haven’t seen each other in a decade, I thought at this point we could at least try to be cordial.”

“Cordial?” I sneer, “yeah, sure, no problem. If you decide to employ me as your nutritionist and chef, I will do my best to be
cordial.
”

“I’ve already made my decision, Dani,” Puck says, “I know your credentials and I know your talents. I’m the best at what I do, and you’re the best at what you do. What’s to decide?”

“Well, I need to know some information then,” I start.

“What would you like to know? Ask away,” Puck asks with a smirk. He leans against the kitchen counter and crosses his arms across his chest.

I feel my cheeks flush but try to pull myself together and hope he doesn’t notice. I fire off some questions about his eating habits and nutritional needs. As I get into my own comfort zone I start to feel more like myself and a lot less flustered. Puck answers my questions with the same business tone and for a few minutes we are able to have a real conversation.

“What kind of schedule are you expecting me to have here?” I ask, after learning about his diet.

“Ultimately, I would like you here five days a week for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I also need you available for occasional small parties here. During hockey season, on the weekends that I have home games, I need you here as well,” he explains, “my former chef lived in the guest house on my property. You are welcome to do the same if it makes things more convenient and it will not effect your salary.

This statement brings me back to reality, reminding me that who I’m speaking to is not just another employer, but my step brother, “that will never happen.”

“Never say never, sweetie,” Puck replies with a wink.

“Never call me sweetie,” I say in an irritated tone.

“The option is there if you need it. There’s plenty of room here, as you can see, if you ever need to stay.”

“Noted,” I answer sarcastically. I fold my hands in front of me to maintain my business like composure. I don’t know if I’m doing it more for me or for Puck. The thought of sleeping here in his house, with him, flusters me. I always had such a crush on him in my teens when sleeping under the same roof was a dream come true - at least in the beginning. There is a moment of silence before he speaks again.

“So what do you think, Dani? Can you handle it?” Puck asks, smirking at me.

“Of course I can handle it,” I reply, looking him in the eyes to show more confidence than I feel. I know I can manage the work. It’s Puck that I’m unsure of. I still don’t trust him and after all this time, I’m still holding a grudge. As I’m glaring at him with my best ‘bitch face’, I can’t help but think again at how hot he looks right now. I feel like I’m in high school again, staring at him with puppy eyes while he pretended I didn’t exist. And if he wasn’t ignoring me, he was torturing me in some way.

“Well, let’s do it then,” Puck answers, standing up straight and extending his hand, “welcome to my home and my team.”

“You sound so sincere, that’s nice for a change.”

“Maybe we can try to start fresh, Dani,” he says seriously, “like - take the bitchy comments down a notch.”

Puck’s reply almost makes me feel bad but his demeanor doesn’t fool me. I grew up with Puck, I know what he’s capable of. I know this whole ‘nice guy’ thing is an act. He knows how to charm people to get what he wants - especially women. I’ve been down that road with him before and I have no intention of going back.

“We can start fresh with a professional relationship,” I say, with a clearly forced smile, “I will take care of your nutrition needs and all cooking. You stay out of the kitchen. I think that will work best.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Puck mocks me, “I would ask if you want to stay and catch up but I don’t like rejection and I already know you’re answer. Why don’t I walk you out?”

“I’m a big girl, I can find my own way out,” I reply, picking up my things, “I’ll be back on Monday for breakfast.” I begin walking toward the archway but Puck steps out in front of me.

“Listen, Dani, I get that you don’t want to be here and I know why - but you agreed to take the job. You are going to be here every day, can you try to make the best of it? What’s the point of being here if you’re going to be miserable?”

He’s right. Why torture myself? I love Joanne but I don’t need to be here and I sure don’t need this cocky asshole as my boss. After over a decade of absence, we are like strangers, but I’m still holding a grudge. There’s just something inside me gravitating toward him. The rational side of me knows this is wrong and I’m asking for trouble being here but there is some sadistic feeling that I can’t shake. I want to have the upper hand for once and being here may help me get it.

“I will do my best to make this bearable for the both of us,” I reply, “have a super weekend,” I add with a smirk and a thumbs up, mocking his request for friendliness.

I turn to leave and roll my eyes. I can’t help but laugh to myself as I walk back out to my car. Of all the challenges I’ve had in my career as a private chef and nutritionist for the rich and famous, working for Puck will be the biggest. I feel a new sense of inspiration - I love to test myself, to face fear head on. Working for Puck will push me beyond any limits I’ve had, as he has been the source of my inner darkness and fear for so long. I just can’t decide who what I’m more afraid of - the Puck I used to know, or my own deepest desires.