Bed Buddies: Puck Buddies, Book Three Page 11

  Instead, we meet Maxine’s friend, Sonia. She’s exactly like Maxine, only the winter Barbie version. She has on fluffy white boots with heels and a red puffy jacket but her nails are stiletto and perfect and her makeup is flawless.

  “Hello, ladies. How was the flight?” She greets us but starts walking straightaway, though still talking as if she doesn't want an answer.

  Sami ignores the behavior. It’s fairly common for her to be with self-important people.

  “And for the seven listings I have to show you—”

  “Seven?” Sami grimaces. “You can’t narrow it to three?” Sami is done with house hunting. Seeing the mansions in New York exhausted her. And honestly, I got tired of seeing marble and glittering chandeliers too. It’s been five days of hell.

  “No. They’re all so different. There’s no way we can limit until we know more specifically what it is you’re seeking.”

  “Cameras are rolling,” I mutter, hoping she remembers that before she has the hissy fit that’s cresting her lips.

  “I sent you a detailed—is there a suitable hotel here?” The disdain in her voice is slathered on but she recovers well.

  “Yes, it’s a lovely luxury resort hotel. Steamboat Grand. Quite popular. I booked you a penthouse for a couple of nights.”

  “Okay, that’s fine then.” Sami isn’t excited. She’s maintaining her composure as best as she can but watching her not get her way is always awkward for everyone.

  When we get to the car, I cringe. It’s a huge SUV limo, the ridiculous kind no one wants to ride in. Sami calls them douche limos. By the look on her face I suspect she’s thinking those very words as we climb in.

  At least it’s warm inside. Steamboat Springs hasn't gotten the memo it’s spring, apparently.

  The camera crew is focused hard on Sami, hoping the storm brewing beneath her calm surface will explode out, but she’s texting Matt back and not focusing. Half of this show is going to be Sami or me texting, sometimes each other.

  “So, where’s the first house?” I ask, pulling the focus onto me.

  “A beautiful property about three miles to the city center, offering privacy, which I know is important to celebrities, and the ski hill is quite close.” She hands us a brochure for the home. Sami doesn't look at it, unfortunately, as she’s too busy sending some lengthy text to Matt about the mansions. Sonia is watching my eyes for the necessary approval of the property, so I can’t warn Sami.

  We drive for about ten minutes with Sonia nattering my ears off and Sami staring out the window. I’ve gently booted her in the foot about three times, but she hasn't caught on and I can’t be more obvious than that.

  So when we pull up to the house, Sami’s jaw drops. “Is that a log house?” It might as well be a shed in the woods. Forget the thirteen-million-dollar price tag.

  “It’s very modern inside, a true luxury home. And it’s on over a hundred acres.” Sonia comes to the defense of the farm. There really is no other word for it. “It’s the most expensive property in Steamboat.”

  “Dear God.” Sami swallows all the bitterness and things she isn’t allowed to say, and climbs out, offering me a sneer.

  “It’s expansive.” I smile at the cameras, knowing this will be a favorite episode for the fans. They’re going to adore the shitty look on Sami’s face, the entire way through this house.

  “Very expansive, and actually, as Steamboat grows into a bigger resort community, land will be at a premium, so it could be subdivided in the future.” Sonia strolls up to the house where a man answers the door. He’s wearing cowboy boots, a hat, tight jeans, and a plaid shirt. He looks like a stripper, not a cheap one but one of the classy strippers where the theme has some serious funds put into it.

  “Howdy, welcome.” He tips his hat, offering Sami his callused hand. “I’m Boyd and this is my uncle’s ranch. He wanted me to come and meet y’all, offer you a tour.”

  He’s a straight-up cowboy. He even has a bruised fingernail.

  “Hi.” Sami daintily touches his fingers and then jerks as he shakes her whole body eagerly.

  “Welcome to the Sun Star Ranch. We’re a real working ranch. The land on the other side of the highway”—he points to the small road we just drove in on—“is where we farm. This small plot belongs to my uncle who is building a new house on the other side of those hills.” He chuckles but I don’t know why.

  Vexed is the only way to describe Sami, but she keeps it together, nodding at the chairs with horses carved into the backs of them and the stone fireplace that Boyd helped build.

  “I’m originally from Tennessee, my daddy’s farm is back there. But my grandpa needed help here so I moved on over. I even took up that snowboarding recently. It’s a real blast. Have y’all been?” He smiles wide; charm seems to ooze from him naturally.

  “We ski,” Sami answers for me, looking as unimpressed as is possible for her without the bitchy face.

  “Excellent, there’s great skiing here. Now if y’all want to follow me outside, I’ll show you the barn.” He leads us out. Sami’s nostrils flare but she survives the mixing stench of horse shit and something Boyd tells us is called snow mold.

  When we finally get back into the douche limo she gives Sonia the look, the one that suggests she’s a hair’s width from losing her shit everywhere and throwing the most epic of temper tantrums. “No log homes. No farms. No barns. No cowboys. No out of town. I want to ski to my house. No apartments or condos or penthouses.” She’s repeating the items she had on the detailed list she gave Maxine to give to Sonia.

  Sonia swallows the lump in her throat and nods. “Right. Well, that cuts the list considerably.” Nervously, she rifles the pages in her brochure and pulls out four of them. “There are three properties for you to see.” She hands them to us, shaking slightly.

  “Thank you.” Sami doesn't move a hand to take the papers so I do. The three places are built almost the same. They’re rustic and nothing we would ever want to live in.

  By the time we finally finish seeing the houses and arrive at the Steamboat Grand, Sami is psychotic. She hands cash to the concierge and points at our crew. “Find them a room far from me and be available.” And closes the doors on the film crew, leaving everyone in the hallway.

  She turns to face me, her right eye twitches and her lips are pressed into a fine line. “What part of luxury was Sonia thinking this hotel would have?”

  The penthouse is also rustic, like a log house.

  It smells of open fireplace and is too warm.

  Neither of us will ever be able to get to sleep in this.

  “Who wants to get drunk?” I ask, nodding my head at the bar.

  “I do, I do!” She saunters over. “And since the room doesn't come with staff. We get to pour our own drinks. How tedious.” She mixes me a gin and tonic with extra limes and herself a dirty martini.

  “It wasn't so bad,” I make an attempt which she shoots down with a furrowed brow.

  “It wasn't? Were we on separate house hunting trips? The best one still has wood fucking paneling everywhere. I’m going to spend a fortune redoing it so I don't feel like I’m trapped in some Swiss lodge, minus the amazing pancakes,” she growls. “And if Sonia thinks she’s some big broker because here in Podunkville she can sell a thirteen-million-dollar barn, she has a lot to learn.”

  “Keep drinking, your meanness will fade.” I motion with my hand and finish my drink too quickly.

  “Oh God, this was the worst. I’m almost scared of the houses we’re seeing next.”

  “Don't be.” I grin, preparing her for the best surprise. “I spoke with your dad and asked where he would like to see brought up for beachy places. He said we should focus on an area outside of the Hamptons, it’s tired and old. Everyone who’s anyone has the Hamptons.”

  “You’re right.” She sits up, appearing intrigued. “Where were you thinking?”

  “At first, I thought Lake Como in Italy but then I heard that George Clooney has made it a
bit of a circus. So I decided not. But there’s this house in Cannes, which if you were smart you’d buy and then let celebrities rent it during the Cannes film festival.”

  Her eyes dull. “Rent?”

  “You don’t think that letting out your houses, a house you won’t even be living in, to celebrities and other VIPs isn’t genius?” Sometimes she’s thick. “Houses you ensure have that Sami Ford flair?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “To show people what the Sami Ford lifestyle is. Then other celebs are decorating their houses similar to yours and wearing the clothes and jewelry and products you endorse. Making you an even bigger spokesperson.”

  “Oh, that’s actually smart.” She nods. “I guess it just seems weird that I would have a house and then let strangers stay in it. But honestly, the staff would be there year round. We’ve stayed at people’s houses before. We didn't pay but we have used other properties in other countries. I guess it would be like that.”

  “And it’s not like Brad Pitt’s going to steal the china.” I roll my eyes.

  “Oh my God, do you think Brad Pitt would stay there?” She gushes, looking better, less annoyed.

  “I do.” I don’t tell her that her dad and I discussed this for a long while. He asked me to have the conversation with her first, see how she feels about the idea.

  “What’s the place in Cannes like?”

  “There are several, one in particular. It’s a French castle, in amazing shape,” I add quickly before she can veto it. She hates her parents’ castle in England. We both find it dank and creepy.

  “Okay, let’s make it our first stop. Cannes.” She says it like she’s testing out the sound in her mouth again and then gives me a scowl. “Speaking of going on a luxurious house hunting trip, we should plan it for when the guys are off.”

  “We can’t.” I wince. “Hockey season is not ending soon enough, and they want the summerhouse sorted straightaway so we can begin shooting decor.”

  “Right.” She sighs. “Don’t get me wrong, I love hockey. I adore it. We both know I do.” She waves her hands between us as she gets up and takes my glass and walks to the bar. “But this hockey-season widow thing is intense. I can count the number of times I’ve seen Matt since Christmas.”

  “I know. I hate it. Brady’s never home. I was actually thinking about getting a cat so I have someone around. Liz is miserable in Hartford too.”

  “At least Brady and Mike don’t also have to spend time with their father as well as me.”

  “I think Brady might do anything to spend time with his father.” I cock an eyebrow. She’s so selfish sometimes.

  “Right, he liked his dad. Matt’s doing it to impress my dad and his.”

  “Yeah.” She isn’t getting rich-people sympathy on this one.

  “I’m in such a shitty mood that the drink gave me heartburn. Awesome.” She mixes me a drink and brings it over with a bottle of water for herself. “I feel like the bloody maid.” She scowls at the hotel room as she sits and sips her drink. She doesn’t see that someone ensured all her favorites were in the bar, only that her room is without staff. Honestly, if we had staff, she’d be complaining about that too. She’s in a Sami mood. There’s no point in doing anything but feeding it and backing away slowly.

  “Room service?” I ask sweetly.

  “Sure. Maybe if we’re lucky we won’t have to cook it ourselves.”

  “Mmmhmmm.” I block out her grumbling with the menu in front of me, scanning the options and contemplating how the guys’ game has gone. “We should turn on the highlights from yesterday’s game.”

  “Already ahead of you. Come sit next to me.” She clicks on the iPad and we watch NBC Sports. The highlights don’t show much, except the loss to Buffalo. Sami wrinkles her nose. “I don’t understand how the hell they’ve lost their last three games.” She taps her fingers against the sofa, grimacing at a clip of Miller high-sticking. “Oh my God.”

  My heart swells when it shows Brady on the ice for half a second, looking fierce. I never imagined in all my life that some jock could make me feel like this, from across the country.

  “I can’t watch this. Morons.” She turns the iPad off and clicks on the TV, turning it to the channel with Practical Magic, grinning. “One day, that’s going to be you and me, minus the kids and the magic. Just us, hiding in a house on the coast, both widows, scaring the townsfolk.” She cackles.

  “Whatever.” I laugh and pick out food for us both, calling downstairs, and then changing into something comfy.

  It’s exactly the night we both need.

  Chapter 14

  I love you, I really love you

  Nov. 30, 2015

  Sami

  “That was nice of you.” I say it, even though he’s still barely speaking to me. I don’t know what else I’ve done, besides obviously being a dick with the end of school and me and Nat having some rough patches. But everything has been fine for weeks and Matt is still being weird.

  “What was?” He lifts his gaze from the newspaper. He should be sleeping since he has a game in Buffalo tomorrow, but I popped in, unexpectedly. Clearly, it went over about as well as a slap in the face.

  Something I’m contemplating giving him, but decide to remain civil and answer him, “Her birthday.”

  “Whose?”

  “Nat’s.” I laugh, confusedly. “Who else’s birthdays have you helped out on? Is this a thing you do, provide people with birthday services?”

  “No.” He doesn’t laugh. Apparently, we don’t have humor anymore. “But if you don’t say the name, I can’t read your mind. You have to give me the whole story.”

  “Okay, well it was nice seeing you for this half an hour of you reading the paper and me trying to talk to you.” I stand. “I won’t make this mistake again.” I turn and leave the room. “Good night.”

  I can’t fucking believe him.

  I make it all the way to my building and am crossing the foyer to my private elevator when I hear his voice.

  “Is it true?”

  I spin around, startled Matt’s here and that he’s shouting at me in the lobby of my building.

  “Is what true?” I snap back at him.

  “You and Palfrey?”

  “Me and Palfrey? Seriously? I can’t do this right now. I’ll call you later.” I turn and hurry to the elevator, but he crosses the lobby quickly, hurrying inside with me, heaving his breath like he might have run all the way here. “Are you insane?” I have to ask. He’s acting nuts and he’s wet, which makes me think he ran here in the rain.

  “Is it true?” he barks.

  “You have to be more specific. I don’t read your mind either,” I snap back.

  “Is your father pushing you to be with him?” His voice cracks slightly and the intense hatred in his eyes transforms into agony. “Did you fuck him? Are you fucking him?”

  “Why do you care?” I drag it out, torturing him for a second longer, even though I know the truth of me and Palfrey. Matt’s been a shit for weeks.

  “You went to a puck fuck party with him? You took Nat there?”

  “So what? I’m free to do whatever I want with whomever I want. You don't want to be with me. You don’t return my calls, and when you do, it’s one-word answers and you’re being distant. We act fine around other people, but then it’s back to ignoring me when we’re alone. Why do you care if Zach Palfrey is going to ask me out?”

  “You’re mine,” he growls, coming forward, pinning me against the marble wall and glass with his chest against mine. His hair hangs down over his eyes, wet from the rain.

  “Yours? For what? To ignore and treat like shit because I was in a bitchy mood and hurt your feelings?” I shove back, knowing it’s provoking him.

  “Sami.” He warns.

  “It’s true. I was a cranky whore at the end of August and into September, but I was stressed. I acted horribly, for which I have apologized. I expected you to man up and accept my apology. Not pout like a li
ttle bitch for so long.”

  A vein appears on his forehead, pulsating like an SOS, telling me to stop, that I’ve gone far enough.

  But I love going that one step too far.

  “So yes, Zach Palfrey is my father’s choice in a boyfriend for now, and maybe a husband. Am I against it, I don’t know. He’s hot and funny and bold.” I lean in, glaring up at him. I want him to snap. I want him to think I’m not strung out on him.

  Hovering above me, breathing like he’s just run a marathon, Matt glowers down on me but somehow he gains control again. His eyes are filled with the vile things he isn’t saying, even though I can tell he wants to. Instead, he steps back and presses the button for my penthouse as if he has complete control over the beast inside him. “You’re not dating him.”

  I’m disappointed.

  “You’re not dating him or anyone else.” He isn’t angry, he’s blunt. His eyes are wild. What I mistook to be hatred and agony is something else, something crazy. He takes a step toward me, so close our chests are almost touching again. “I’ve played this fucking game with you for almost a year. You’ve been a nightmare, to say the least. You’ve redefined the word cocktease, which I’ve endured. Someone sent you a picture of me getting a blow job in the shower when I was dating you, I get it. Because of that I’ve taking your fucking accusations and terrible opinion of me because I did fuck up, a little. And I own that. But I’m done.” He points a meaty finger in my face. “I am done being your little whipping bitch. I’m finished with this fucking game. You aren’t going to date anyone else, because you love me, Sami Ford. You and that tiny little stone of a heart, are mine. I love you and you love me, as much as your cold fucking heart can love another person. And I don’t want to hear another goddamned word about Palfrey or your parents or mine or anything else!” He shouts a little at the end. “You’re my girl! You always have been!” His fingers are trembling a little but when he grabs my face it isn’t harsh.

  “You love me?” It’s honestly the only part I really heard.

  “I fucking love you so much my insides ache whenever you’re not around and then they ache even more when you are. My stupid plan was to sabotage your deal and make you fall in love with me and forgive me but all that’s happening is I’m falling more in love with you. I don’t give a single shit about anything in this entire world, except you. And my grandma. So tell me the truth, are you even considering that anyone but me is the right choice for you?”