PREORDER - Puck It, I Do (EBOOK)

Poppy
Multi-coloured light glared into the hotel room, cutting through the gap between the curtains and my ability to sleep. I rolled on to my back, barely containing the wince of pain at the sickening thud in my head. Maybe I shouldn’t have had all those shots after the conference closed.
How did I get back?
For a moment, I could only stare at the ceiling, chasing memories of my final night in Las Vegas. Dinner flowed into drinks at a cocktail bar with a couple of other writers I’d meet at my first conference. I’d tried to be good all week, soaking in as much information as I could, wary of wasting precious time with a hangover. Apparently, I saved all the wild Vegas drinking for the final night. Flying with a hangover would not be fun.
Piercing blue eyes flashed through my mind and I frowned.
There was a guy.
Something about him captivated me.
What was his name?
My eyes narrowed as I rooted around inside my mind for any details about him. Predictably, I came up blank. Alcohol and my memory were not friends. Forgetting how I got home wasn’t a surprise. Forgetting the name of the guy I seemed to have spent a good deal of my night with, now that was abnormal.
How much did I drink?
The bathroom door swung open and I jolted upright, clutching the sheet to my naked chest. My heart raced as I caught sight of the very tall, very handsome stranger from last night. Why is he in my room?
Taking in the space, my brows puckered at the unfamiliar duffle bag sitting on top of the desk where I’d left a spread of makeup.
Scratch that. Where the hell am I?
Steam billowed around him, caressing all six-foot plus inches of his seriously ripped body. Droplets glistened against his skin as they dripped from his wet brown hair, gliding down the divots of his pecs and abs.
Holy hell. My mouth watered just looking at him.
An ache pulsed between my legs when my focus returned to his face. He stared at me with his brow raised and clear amusement shining in those crystal blue eyes.
Shit, forget the abs. I could drown in those eyes.
“Hi,” I croaked.
His lips twitched and I internally cringed. Talk about awkward.
Our gazes caught for a moment. And the reality of what we must have done last night settled over me. Of all the nights to end my drought, it had to be the night I got smashed and forgot everything.
“Morning,” he said, his voice deliciously hoarse.
I couldn’t help myself, my gaze dropped again. There was just so much to take in. “Do you always greet people in nothing but a towel, or am I just lucky?”
“Depends on your definition of lucky.” He smirked despite the situation.
The urge to hear him laugh caught me off guard, his voice triggering fragments of memories. His teasing, daring me into another shot, the relaxed way he’d caged me in at the bar.
I chuckled and the movement upset my head, making me wince. “There’s a marching band in my head, and I don't recall inviting them.” She rubbed her temples.
“Tequila will do that,” he said.
“Oh god.” I pulled a face, collapsing back against the pillow. “I thought I'd sworn off that devil's brew after uni. No wonder I feel like I blacked out.”
“Here.” He held a bottle of water out to me with an odd look on his face.
I sat up and grateful accepted it. My mouth felt as dry as the Sahara. At this point, I’d probably need a litre of water just to get ride of the fuzzy feeling. I took a long sip, my gaze never leaving his.
How had I lucked out with this guy?
He wasn’t at the conference. I’d have noticed him days ago.
"So, care to fill me in on how I ended up here? My memory's a bit... fuzzy."
“I don’t remember a lot myself. We met in a bar.” His brow furrowed and a far off look entered his eyes. “You’re friends left because of an early flight, then I think we went dancing. Took down a bottle of tequila and,” he gestured to me wrapped up in his sheet, “one thing led to another….”
I winced. “Let me guess — alcohol-fuelled poor decisions?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, that’s just brilliant.” I sighed. “First time in Vegas, and I tick off the cliché of a one-night stand.”
“Could be worse.”
“How, exactly?”
“You could have woken up married to a stranger,” he said his tone telling me just how unappealing he found that.
I laughed weakly. “Small mercies, I suppose.”
He chuckled. “If it makes you feel any better, I wish I could remember more too.” His gaze raked over my naked sheet-covered body. My face heated while a thrill wormed its way into my mind. His eyes trailed to his duffle back. “I’m sorry to be a dick but I really need to get my ass in gear.”
“Right.” I waved him off, too busy trying to piece the night together to care.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not usually... This isn’t…”
“A regular occurrence?”
“Yes, but that’s not what I meant.” He turned away from me and started stuffing the last of his things into his duffel bag. “It’s just... complicated.”
“Isn’t it always?” I twisted the ring on my finger while I studied him. It was kind of a shame we’d never see each other again.
And then I zeroed in on the important detail.
I didn’t wear rings.
My gaze fell to the gold band circling my ring finger and my mouth dropped along with my stomach.
Where the fuck did that come from?
“I thought you said we didn’t get married?”
“We didn’t.” He spun around, a frown tugging at his brows. Then he clocked the wedding band and his eyes widened. He glanced to his own hand, noting the matching band and paled. “How did we — when did — why?”
For a moment, we stewed in shocked silence.
“This is some kind of elaborate prank, right?” I glanced around the room again, searching for hiding spots. It would be just like my best friends to set me up like this.
He snatched his suit jacket from the chair. Riffling through the pockets he muttered furiously to himself, the words lost to the air conditioning. His jacket dropped to the floor, forgotten as he stared at a sheet of cream paper.
It looked thick, the kind of paper they printed important shit on.
Like a marriage licence.
He met my shell shocked stare with horror. His jaw shifted and all my other organs plummeted to join my stomach on the floor.
So it happened. We got married.
Shit.
“You can’t remember that part of the night, I guess?” I asked, my voice weak. I counted the lack of hyperventilating on my part as a win.
He shook his head, but his eyes darkened with an emotion I really didn’t want to analyse. There was an accusation there, but that wouldn’t make any sense. It had to be my shock warping my perception.
“My dad’s going to have a fit. He always said I was too open minded for my own good.” I covered my eyes and groaned. “Fuck. I don’t even know your name.”
“Miles.”
I lowered my hands and caught him still staring at me.
“What?”
“My name’s Miles.”
I nodded. It didn’t help but it was something.
“It’ll be okay, Poppy. I’ll fix it. The press will never find out.”
The hard edges softened for a second, almost transporting me back to the night before and the way my name had fallen from his tongue. Like the most perfect caramel ice cream.
Then his gaze shifted, breaking the spell and casting his face in shadows.
“What do you mean, ‘fix it’?”
“Get it annulled.”
“Like it never happened?" I asked, my voice weak.
“Exactly.” Miles scooped his phone off the desk and started firing off texts. “I’ll get my lawyer on it immediately. Hopefully they’ll be able to get it locked down while we sort this out.”
Locked down. What the hell was that meant to mean?
“If we act fast, it might not get out.”
“Get out?”
He cut his eyes to me from his phone. Where those gorgeous eyes had pierced me with heat in my memories, now they only burned with ice.
“Before the media get their hands on it.”
“The more you speak, the more confused I get.” I sighed.
“It’s best if we keep this between us,” he said, ignoring my confusion. “You know how people can be.”
My brow furrowed. “Why would anyone care about two strangers getting drunk in Vegas?”
For a second, he blinked at me, almost stunned. Then his gaze narrowed and he studied me with a calculating look.
"Come on, you know how it is. Especially when you tell your bunny friends and they go blabbing to the press.” He shrugged. “Word gets around."
I eyed him, searching my rattled mind for even a small nugget of information that would explain why that part freaked him out. It almost felt like the marriage was a minor inconvenience. My presence seemed to be his real issue.
“Are you dating someone?”
He snorted. “God no.”
Relief slammed into me. At least I hadn’t drunkenly turned into a home wrecker. But it solved nothing. My confusion only deepened.
He took a deep breath that seemed to do nothing to calm him. His muscles only tensed harder. "Look, I need to be sure this stays between us. Can you check your phone? Make sure you didn't... I don't know, take any photos last night?"
What the fuck was with this guy? Who asks something like that if they didn’t have a girlfriend they were trying to hide their indiscretions from?
“Are you always this paranoid the morning after?”
“Please.” His tone turned desperate. “It’s important.”
Sighing, I reached for my purse which I’d somehow had the foresight to place on the nightstand. He watched me like a hawk as I unlocked my phone and scrolled through my messages to the girls. They’d piled up overnight but there was nothing about him. Then I opened my gallery and again found nothing.
Which in itself should have been weird. I wasn’t the shutterbug of my friend group but I’d usually take at least one selfie for a night out.
“Nothing,” I said, holding up the screen. “No photos, no cryptic messages to friends. Happy now?”
Finally his shoulders sagged. “Great, that’s… that’s good.” He ran a hand through my damp hair, his lips twitching in what I suspected would be a smile good enough to melt me into a puddle.
“Who are you to be worried about the press finding out we made a drunken mistake?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Miles turned his back on me, plucking clothes from a hanging garment bag.
Before I could push for more information, his towel dropped, revealing even more toned muscle. I just about swallowed my tongue. Any concerns about marrying a stranger in a foreign country floated away.
Only athletes had bodies that toned surely.
I drank him in as he dressed hurriedly in a suit.
“I can order you a taxi if you want.” The words came out clipped and he didn’t turn around.
A sickening sensation flooded me to rival my hangover.
“That’s it?”
“I can’t get into this now. I have to be in the lobby in five minutes.” Finally, he turned, but any hope for an apology died at the stony expression. “We can sort this out later. Give me your number, I’ll put you in touch with my lawyer.” He extended his hand with an expectant look.
How could he be so calm? We got bloody married and I don’t even remember doing it. I’m not the reckless, adventurous type. I’d probably be a better writer if I were but I’m not and I’m good with that.
I stared at it, incredulous. “Are you always this charming, or am I just special?”
“I’m trying to fix this. The sooner we handle it, the better for both of us.”
“Do you often marry strangers, or is this a one-off?” Sarcasm dripped from my words.
Miles snorted. “No. This is a first for me.”
He kept watching me with that suspicious edge. Like he thinks you did it on purpose. A twinge of hurt and incredulity slithered through my gut.
Don’t be stupid. Of course, he doesn’t think that.
Still the ice hadn’t left his gorgeous eyes. I didn’t have to worry about getting lost in them again.
“Me too, so you don’t need to be so cold about it.”
“What else do you want me to do, Poppy? I didn’t plan to marry a fucking bunny during an away game.” His voice rose and I flinched.
That alone ignited my anger. No one got to shout at me and get away with it.
“You’re acting like I tricked you or some shit.” I clutched the sheet to my chest and stood, tearing the entire thing from the bed and wrapping it around myself.
“Well, didn’t you?”
My jaw dropped. “Unbelievable. I’m pretty fucking freaked out right now and you think I did this on purpose? Marrying a condescending jerk in Vegas was absolutely on my bucket list. Not.”
The look he gave me could have curdled milk. “Right, like I’m going to believe that. You must have thought you’d hit the jackpot with me. You lot have been tripping over yourselves trying to win the forbidden fruit.”
“Forbidden fruit?” It’s like he made it his mission to talk in cryptic riddles.
“This is why I stopped taking bunnies home.”
“You keep saying that word. What the hell is a bunny?”
He stared at me, assessing yet again. Some of the anger drained from his face.
“You’re not a puck bunny?” he asked, his voice subdued and uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
“Can you talk like a normal person?” I growled. “You clearly don’t mean the fluffy innocent animal, but beyond that I’m struggling to follow you.”
“You’re serious. You really don’t know who I am?”
“Should I?” I snapped. “All I know is I somehow married a hot psycho, and I’d really like to undo that as soon as possible.”
I grabbed my clothes from the floor and shuffled into the bathroom while he brooded in his thoughts.
“Never trust a pretty face, Poppy,” I grumbled to myself beneath my breath in a high voice, mimicking my mother. “You’ll only get hurt. They think they’re better than us.” I shimmed into my tight dress. “You forgot the fact the pretty face is nothing but a cover for the dickhead beneath, mam.”
“I can hear you,” Miles called through the door as I scraped my long blonde hair back into a bobble.
“Good,” I snapped, snatching up his mouth wash and rinsing out my mouth quickly.
How the hell did I end up marrying such an asshole? I didn’t even have one night stands for fuck sake.
I just had to go break two rules with someone like him. The faster we divorced the better. Maybe my father didn’t even have to know about it. I flung the door open and marched out, shoulders back and my face set in a hard mask. If he wanted to be a dick, I could easily return the favour.
His gaze roamed my body again, melting the ice so fast my mind blanked. An overwhelming sense of regret swept through me.
If he wasn’t such an ass, would I want to try and make it work? I’d always believed everything happened for a reason.
No. That was crazy. I married a complete stranger, there was absolutely no reason to think there had been any logic involved in that decision.
Those gorgeous blue eyes snagged mine and I stiffened, holding in the sigh of pleasure they evoked. That is until the heat gave way to anger and Miles bristled before me. Then I really did sigh, for the stupidity of men.
“Who exactly are you?” I regret the words the moment they fell from my tongue.
“What does it matter if you’re not a puck bunny?” He eyed me with suspicion, his eyes narrowing and his face storming. “I’m not going to waste my breath getting to know you when we’ll be divorced soon enough.”
A pang stabbed at my chest and confusion swept through me, chasing away even the smallest inkling of desire I held for him. I wasn’t sure why that hurt so much. He wasn’t exactly Mr Nice Guy.
We would have been incompatible on a normal day. For one, we lived in different parts of the world. Edinburgh was my home and I fully intended to go back after a small detour to Toronto and a month long break. Two, I didn’t sneer at people who were stupid enough to get me drunk and marry me.
No, I shouldn’t feel hurt that he was being a dick about our predicament. I should feel relieved — at least I didn’t have to spend the rest of my life dodging him.
“You’re an ass. Clearly, drunk me has no taste.” I rolled my eyes, willing my heart to grow some shields, and brushed past him, heading for the door. “Don’t worry, you’ll never see me again.”
“Wait, Poppy.” He caught my arm, tugging me to a stop and spinning me back to face him. There was something desperate about his expression but he locked it down fast. “Let me order you a taxi,” he said, his voice far less panicked.
“I’m not in the habit of accepting favours from asshole athletes.” I tugged my arm from his grasp and backed away. “Have a nice life, Miles.”

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