Pucked (33 page)

On Saturday morning, we have shower sex, pack our bags, and leave the condo. Alex’s mother invited us for brunch, and he couldn’t say no. Alex loads everything into the back of a sporty SUV. The man loves his vehicles. He has two in Toronto; a Mercedes for the summer and the SUV for winter.

I’m nervous about spending time with his family. Eating a meal in their home where I’ll have to make small talk and tell them about myself is very different than meeting them at a loud bar.

We drive in silence for a while as I stare absently out the window. I don’t note the change in my surroundings until Alex pulls onto a road which disappears into a forest.

“
Where are we?”

“
An off-roading trail.”

“
We’re going off-roading in an SUV?” Alex is an intelligent man, so he must know this car isn’t built for off-roading. SUV or not, it’s snowy, and we could get stuck. Also, we’re on our way to brunch with his family.

“
No.” Alex puts the car in park and unbuckles his seat belt. He leans over and kisses me. Roadside make out session? Yes and please.

“
I want you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“
Nothing’s wrong.”

“
Liar.” He kisses the spot on my neck that makes me wish we were naked.

I close my eyes and debate whether or not I should tell the truth. “I’m nervous.”

“
What about?”

Alex sits back, his expression somber. It’s hot. Although I’m biased; I find all of Alex’s facial expressions hot.

“
I think your mom hates me. What if I say something dumb in front of your family? We haven’t been seeing each other long, and you don’t know how ridiculously inappropriate I can be in social situations. I mortify myself sometimes—quite often, actually. It's fine with my friends, not when I’m dealing with the parents of my successful, intelligent, inordinately hot, and extra-well-endowed boyfriend.”

“
Once they get to know you they’ll love you, I promise.” He kisses the back of my hand. “My dad is super laid-back, and so is my sister. As for my mom, she’s probably certifiable, but she’s harmless.”

“
What if I accidentally make a comment about your monster cock? What if they serve breakfast sausages, and I compare its inadequate size to your love stick?”

These might seem like stupid questions, but when nervous, I put myself in jeopardy of saying something this humiliating.

“
Did you just call my cock a ‘love stick’?” He smirks.

“
I don’t think you’re focusing on the issue here.”

“
Baby, everything is going to be fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

His reassurances are starting to work. It’s as though he’s hypnotizing me with his voice and his touch and his pretty, pretty eyes. He kisses me softly.

The heat between us explodes and we end up making out for fifteen minutes. It’s long enough to get us both worked up and almost make us late. The sexual tension in the car is thick like potato leek soup. I’d help him out with his problem, but I think it’s only fair we both suffer through brunch unsatisfied.

Guelph is more of a town than a city, and it’s nothing like Chicago. Downtown is quaint, full of little cafés and shops interspersed with bars and pubs, catering to the college crowds. Despite the cold winter morning, the streets bustle with people, young and old alike. We turn onto a side street and pull into the driveway of a large, old, brick house.

“
Ready?” He squeezes my hand.

“
I think so.”

When he gets out of the car he adjusts his pants. He has an obvious hard-on. Hopefully, the cold air will help shrink it. The only thing more horrifying than me making comments about his package would be him sporting a woody in front of his parents.

Daisy greets us at the door. I’m stunned once again by the horror of her hair. It looks like the eighties threw up on her head. It seems even bigger today than it was the other night. Her matching eighties attire is a helpful diversion, though. While acid-washed and high-waisted pants have made a comeback in recent years—Lord help us all—it looks as though she unearthed her original duds from the attic. I sniff, there’s no mothball smell. How she’s managed to avoid being lynched by the fashionista police is beyond me.

“
Alex!”

He turns his face away from her hair as they hug.

“
Violet, it’s so nice you could make it.” She hugs me, too. It’s another one of those loose, back-pat ones with no real affection.

Her hair is so solid I worry it might ensnare me like a fly caught in a spider web. I make the mistake of talking while hugging Daisy.

“
Thanks so much for inviting me.” Stray hairs stick to my lips, and hairspray invades my mouth. It’s simply horrendous. I want to spit the taste out. I swallow repeatedly instead, spreading it around my tongue.

“
Alex, why don’t you bring your bags in, and Violet can help me in the kitchen.”

Alex stands there for a few long seconds with a smile plastered on his face. He runs a hand nervously through his hair. “I already booked us a room—”

“
At a hotel? Why would you need to do that?” She looks from him to me and back again, her smile calculating. Alex’s mom is kind of a bitch.

“
This is Violet’s first time in Guelph—”

“
Which is exactly why you should stay here. You can cancel your reservations.” Daisy loops her arm through mine
and steers me toward the kitchen. “I don’t get to see enough of my baby boy, and Violet has had you most of the weekend. I think she should be able to share you for one night. Grab your bags and bring them inside, sweetie.”

Panic-stricken, I look over my shoulder as Daisy leads me away. Alex’s brows are drawn, and his lips are mashed in a line. He looks about as happy about this situation as I do. Brunch with the ’rents is one thing, a goddamned sleepover is another.

“
I’m so glad Alex was able to find some time to spend with us while he’s here. We see so little of him already these days with his schedule.”

I stand awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, unsure if I should sit or stand. “He’s on the road a lot.”

She picks up the biggest knife I’ve ever seen and slices the top off a pineapple. “Mmm. Relationships have always been a challenge for him because of it.”

I hope the next twenty-four hours aren’t going to be full of jabs at me. I don’t think I can handle it without saying something I’ll regret.

Daisy immediately gives me a task; thankfully, it’s not a difficult one because I can’t cook for shit. While I cut the tops off strawberries, Daisy makes mimosas. Booze is exactly what I need to beat back the anxiety and the gross lingering taste of hairspray.

She hands me a glass as Alex and his dad saunter into the kitchen. Robbie is wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a Grateful Dead T-shirt.

“
Robbie! You’re supposed to get dressed! We have company.” Daisy puts her hands on her hips. “Are you doing research again?”

I look from Alex, who’s smiling, to his father—also smiling, and back to his mother, who is not smiling. I take a closer look at Robbie. The whites of his eyes are shockingly red. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s high as a flipping kite.

“
I’m testing a new batch of medical this week. It’s supposed to increase appetite by fifty percent.”

I guess my hypothesis is accurate. He slides his hand under his shirt, rubbing his stomach lazily. He’s got some abs under there. I look away. I don’t want to ogle Alex’s father.

“
How are you, Violet?” He grabs a handful of hulled strawberries and takes a seat.

“
I’m great. You?”

“
Mellow
would be the scientific term.”

I’ve only “met the parents” a couple of times in my dating history. None of those experiences were as bizarre as this one is turning out to be.

As Alex and his dad chat about medical grade
Mary Jane
, I continue to chop fruit. Most of it ends up in Robbie’s mouth rather than on the platter. I’d say if the point is to increase appetite, it’s working well.

Until now I’ve been so focused on being polite I’ve failed to take in the decor of the house. It looks like a bohemian gypsy got into a fight with a southern belle, and they exploded all over the place. Everything is either
über
frilly or a throwback to the seventies. It’s hard to process it all. I wonder how a laid-back man like Robbie can handle so much visual over-stimulation. Maybe he likes tripping out to it.

As I sip my mimosa and ponder this, Alex’s sister comes into the room. I nearly choke as Buck comes in behind her. Shit is about to go down, rumble style.

Alex has his back to them. I do the most logical thing in the world. I grab his hand, pulling him toward me. My intention is to molest him. However, this plan has holes—the most important being the presence of his parents. So I stand there, staring up at him as I stroke his thumb with my fingers. Alex gives me a funny look.

“
Alex! You’re here!” Sunny’s voice distracts him from my distraction.

He turns around. I assume he’s not very happy based on the way he squeezes my hand since I can no longer see his face.

“
What the
hell
?” He scares his mother half to death—and me, too with his thunderous shouting.

“
Alex! Use your inside voice,” Daisy says.

“
Alex,” I say gently as his grip on my hand tightens. If he keeps going he’s going to break it. I need my hand, not just for my job but for other important tasks, such as jilling off.

Unfortunately his focus is not on the hand he’s crushing, It’s on Buck standing beside his sister and smiling his ass off. At least he’s not touching her.

“
Hey, man. How’s it goin’?” Buck asks like it’s no big deal he’s here.

I pull on Alex’s sleeve with my free hand.

“
What are you doing here?” he asks calmly.

I’m losing the feeling in my fingers. I lean in and bite Alex’s arm.

“
Ow!”

It works. He lets go of my hand.

His head swings around. Oh man, is he ever pissed. As badass as he is on the ice, and as dominating and frisky as he can be in bed, he doesn’t intimidate me. Plus, his family is here, and so is Buck, so I’ll be fine.

He rubs his arm. “Why’d you bite me?”

“
You were crushing my hand and words weren’t working.”

He inspects my hand with his lips. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry.

“
Alex, watch your language.”

“
Sorry, Mom.” Alex then glares at his sister and motions to Buck. “Care to explain this?”

Sunny looks Buck up and down. “Explain what?”

“
Why are you being so rude?” Daisy asks. No one pays any attention to her.

Sunny flips her hair over her shoulder. She’s wearing a rainbow colored tie-dyed shirt and a flowy, ankle-length skirt. She’s not Buck’s type at all. He goes for the skanky, nearly naked sure-things. Yet here he is with Sunny, who seems like neither.

Alex abandons questioning his sister—she does seem genuinely confused—and moves onto Buck. “Who invited you?”

“
I invited him,” Sunny replies.

“
Why?” Alex’s fists clench at his sides.

“
Um, because I like him?” Her body language tells me things her words don’t. She wraps a tendril of hair around her finger, and her eyes drop to her feet. Buck has snared her with his yeti magic.

“
You like him?” Alex’s voice rises with his eyebrows. “He’s a dirtbag!”

Part of me wants to defend Buck; he’s a nice guy under all the whoriness. But if Sunny was my sister, I would castrate Buck before he could get his dick into her. Sadly, with the way Sunny gazes at Buck and Buck smiles back at her, it appears this may have already happened. Alex could be too late to save his sister. I should offer to take her to the walk-in clinic later today.

Sunny props her fist on her hip. “Look who’s calling the kettle a pot!”

She and Buck may be on a level playing field intellectually with the way she completely butchered that saying.

Apparently Daisy gets what Sunny is trying to say. She defends Alex’s nonexistent virtue. “Don’t you say things like that about your brother!”

Either she’s truly in complete denial or she’s too blinded by her maternal love to see the truth. Alex may not be a player, but he can be a dirty, dirty boy.

I look around the room; the various expressions are hilarious. Sunny is enraged, Daisy looks like she might cry, Buck is staring at Sunny’s chest—so he has no idea what’s happening—and Robbie has pulled the fruit tray closer. He’s shoveling food into his mouth and peeking up on occasion to check if anyone notices. I like him.

Sunny props a fist on her hip. “I saw the paper this morning. Did you?”

“
What paper?” Alex asks.

“
The tabloids. There’s a whole article on what happened in the locker room yesterday.”

“
Wait, what?” Buck is suddenly alert. As are Alex and I.

“
It’s not like I’d actually believe any of the stuff in there. Even if it’s mostly made up, it sure doesn’t make any of you look good.”

“
What kind of tabloids do you read?” Buck is wearing his constipated expression.

It’s clear he’s afraid Sunny has read about his sexual exploits in the tabloids. He’s too involved with figuring out what Sunny might know about him; he forgets about the argument brewing with Alex and settles into hushed conversation with her.

Alex and I look at each other, clearly wanting to know the same thing—what did Sunny see in the tabloids and how much should I worry.

I have no idea what’s happening between Buck and Sunny, but I have to admit, even though the two of them seem as deep as a puddle, they get along well. Buck is actually being polite.