Puck The Halls | Jack Hughes

TWENTY ONE

MIRACLE
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I FELT A BIT SILLY. NOT BECAUSE I WAS SHOPPING in the city with Ellen, Quinn and Jack Hughes, because I'd been on countless trips just like this one with the Hughes family, but because of what I was shopping for. I wasn't huge on wearing dresses, of course, I had my fair share of dresses—for parties, events, nights out—none black-tie wedding worthy.

Jack came out of the dressing room at the same time as Quinn, both boys taking a glance at each other and snickering at how ridiculous they felt, which made no sense. You'd think two men who both wore suits for the entire duration of the NHL series would be used to it by now. Apparently not.

Quinn wore a basic grey checkered three piece, vest and all, Jack wore a tuxedo, which honestly, I hadn't expected him to go through with. My eyes widened at the sight of him, and I stood up a little in my seat, the suit fitting him just right. He looked perfectly Hervey Spectre-esque and I couldn't get enough.

Maybe, he'd give up his career as a hockey player to be a model, or a full time billionaire playboy mafia boss, and he'd claim me as his whore so I could spend my days pleasing him how he liked.

Okay, so maybe that would never happen, and the idea sort of sounded a lot better before I thought it up. I liked Jack the way he was, I was not opposed to dominance in the sheets, however. Jack turned to look at himself in the mirror, and I definitely do not notice the way his thigh muscles push the fabric of the pants.

He turns to me with a grin, his eyes hopeful. "How do I look?"

"Like a Disney prince," I tell him honestly, taking a moment to let my eyes rake over him, fully intending on being greedy and accepting that my mind immediately thought up the word mine.

"Love the tux, honey," Ellen commented, fixing Quinn's tie while he swatted her away with a frown, telling her that he wasn't a baby. Ellen turns to me with a grin. "Your turn, Mira, time for dress shopping."

"Oh, no," I mumble, shaking my head. "I have dresses, I'm okay."

"Oh, no you don't," Jack snaps, taking three large strides towards me, so that his body hovers dangerously close to me, close enough that I can lift a hand and it'll be holding his bicep, or clutching his chest. "If you mean the kind of dresses you've been wearing since I got home, you need a dress."

I pout dramatically. "What's wrong with my dresses?"

"Trust me, Miracle," Jack grins, hands on my shoulders. "I love your dresses, maybe a little too much, but this wedding is more like a fucking ball."

"What?" I snap, eyes wide as I look between the Hughes family. "A ball?"

Jack shrugs. "Cousins are loaded. You're gonna need a dress."

I bow my head in shame, feeling the anxiety start to bubble its way to the surface again. "Jack," I whisper. "I can't afford that kind of dress. My job isn't exactly well paying, and I'm saving for college, I didn't realise it was that kind of wedding, if I did, maybe I—"

Jack presses his lips to mine gently, a silent chant for me to shut the hell up. It's a short kiss, sweet, gentle, intentional. Ellen and Quinn turn away from us with a snicker each, Quinn trying to hold back his laughter and near failing. Jack pulls back, lacing our fingers together, he's looking down at me and I'm looking up at him and he's perfect.

"Miracle," he whispers. "I told you baby, you're not paying."

My lips tingle, missing his touch already, and I subconsciously let my free hand come up to brush over the place he'd kissed. Jack's mouth broke into an all-out smile, big and real and contagious.