Daisy-Mae stared at the poster of the Dragons captain that had been hung in her new office, along with several other star players and hockey memorabilia. She hadn’t been the one to decorate, and if she had, she wouldn’t have chosen that particular poster.
Maverick was smiling at her, gloved hands stacked on top of his stick, his hair damp from practice. He was staring right at her, and every time she looked up, her heart skipped a beat.
And he had been placed straight across from her desk.
She knew what it felt like to kiss those lips.
She knew what it felt like to be held by those powerful arms.
The idea of working from home was gaining in appeal—if only for its lack of distractions.
Her phone screen lit up with a text message from Maverick’s mom, firming up their plans for desk hunting.
Was her Sunday supper date afterward with Maverick still on? She hadn’t seen a single photo of them or their Saturday night date on social media, and it had been almost two days. Them dating was supposed to be huge, wasn’t it? What had happened to all of that interest from the initial photos?
What if their fake-real thing was already over and she was being added to The One-Date Wonder’s list of women?
She steadied her breathing. Maverick wasn’t going to toss her aside just because their first date hadn’t gone viral. She could argue that they needed to keep trying, plead her case. Louis would agree. Although maybe not after seeing their dinner bill.
She held her phone, fingers hesitating over the keyboard. Sunday shopping. Maverick would be there, and Daisy-Mae would be hanging out with him and his mom. Like they were a real couple, a serious one. Not a publicity couple that were locked in something just for show.
The swirling in her head intensified. She could easily wind up in a repeat Myles situation with this fake-real relationship, where she was more emotionally invested than her boyfriend.
Setting down her phone, she walked across the room, considering what she could do about Maverick’s poster. She tugged at its frame. It was screwed into the wall.
She sighed and surveyed her office. There was no way she was going to be able to concentrate in this office unless she turned her desk to face the corner.
Or just kept her head down and did her work.
She got back to it and a few hours later, there was a knock on her door. She’d closed it earlier, much too distracted by all the hotties and semi-famous people who traipsed past on their way to the conference room at the end of the hall. Agents, players, Miranda—the team’s owner—even Violet sometimes. Everyone seemed to pass by her office.
“Come in,” she called, her heart hiccuping as she spied Maverick looking at her from his poster.
“Hey, am I interrupting?” The door opened a crack and the real Maverick appeared. Her heart did another skip.
She shook her head and sucked in a breath, fearing he was coming to say he was pulling out of their fake-real relationship.
The One-Date Wonder strikes again.
He nudged the door the rest of the way open with his shoulder, revealing that he’d brought them each coffee. His expression suggested he was happy to see her and not about to dump her.
She relaxed, unsure if she should stay seated or come over for a hug. Was it too soon to expect something like that as a hello? She opted to stand and stretch and watch his cues.
The man needed a haircut, a wayward curl falling across his brow as he gave the door a gentle kick to close it behind him without spilling his precious caffeine cargo. She really hoped he was letting his hair grow as some sort of hockey superstition involving wins and losses during the season. She loved the slightly unkempt look he had going on.
“Not interrupting at all, especially if that second cup is for me.” She reached across her desk, accepting the takeout cup. “Organizing princess costumes for men your size is not an easy task.”
His eyes narrowed for a split second before he chuckled. “I thought it was you they wanted dressing up like a princess during the games?”
The PR team had been pretty set on painting the Zamboni like a castle and turning the game into some sort of fairy tale on ice. Shooting that idea down had landed her this job—thanks to the man in front of her. But yes, the princess costume had been sized for her, not him.
“I outgrew the princess phase a long time ago,” she said with a wave of her hand, taking her seat again.
“Says the woman with a glass case full of tiaras and crowns.”
She laughed. It was true. She displayed her pageant wins. Some pageants didn’t allow the winners to keep the bling as it was passed down to the next year’s winner. But sometimes she got to keep it. And what was the point of bling if you didn’t show it off a bit? Especially when you’d worked so hard for it.
“What are the twins going to do with a woman like you? I bet your no-nonsense, direct Texan approach melts their brains every time you speak to them.” He sat in one of the ugly plastic chairs that had been tossed into her office like a second thought. He crossed an ankle over his knee, leaning back, and she realized she could have pressed them into a tradition of a hug and a kiss hello.
She needed to think faster if she wanted to enjoy all the benefits of having Maverick as her boyfriend.
“It’s…interesting coordinating my plans with theirs.” She lifted her cup, curious what he had ordered. The cup was from The Gingerbread Café and it smelled like their November special, a spiced latte. With oat milk? She took a sip. It was. “How’d you know I’m hooked on this?” She hadn’t ordered it during their date.
He shrugged.
“Are you psychic?”
“I have friends in the right places.”
“Well, tell them I also like diamonds, white gold, Italian leather, the color blue…”
“Noted or already known.”
“So how was speaking to Violet? Did she squeal all over you?” She smirked as he rolled his eyes, settling deeper into his chair.
“She was a little excited. You told her?”
“About us? Yeah.” She took a sip of her drink to mask her smile. Violet had almost hit the roof with her enthusiasm when Daisy-Mae had told her they were dating. And naturally, being her best friend, Violet had noted the hesitation in some of her answers relating to how and when she’d been asked out. So now Vi knew the full story from crush to fake-real dating.
“Nice to know your friends approve.”
“How about yours?” She was curious what his friends thought.
“Men don’t really interfere in that kind of stuff.”
“It’s not interfering!”
“Okay, take that sort of interest.”
“Much better.”
Maverick frowned as he took in her office. He gestured at the hockey posters hanging to his right. “Didn’t peg this as your style.” He turned, looking at the wall behind him, and grinned at the poster of himself. He swiveled back to her, aiming a thumb over his shoulder. “Except for that. Want me to sign it?” He leaned forward as though searching for a marker on her desk.
“If it helps your ego. But I should tell you I plan to use it for practicing darts later.”
“You kill me.”
“Your eyes could serve as bullseye. Or…maybe something lower.”
“You’d think I’d wronged you,” he said in a playful, wounded tone. “Was our first date that bad?”
She moved to the chair beside him, tagging his shoulder with a gentle flick of her fingers, her gaze lingering on his biceps. My goodness. He was wearing a T-shirt today, and the sleeves stretched mighty tight across the bulge of muscles.
“Is the PR team satisfied we went out?”
“They may have mentioned the lack of attention we garnered.”
“So they’re still trying to marry you off?” she asked, sipping her drink. “Because I really can’t see you getting married while you’re in hockey.”
“I’m only getting married if you say yes,” he said with serious casualness, their eyes meeting over the white lids of their cups.
She lowered her cup and stared at him hard. He was joking, she reminded her fluttering heart. Joking.
He tipped back his head, breaking eye contact as he took a long sip of coffee. “I’m too busy for a major commitment like that. Women want their men to be around for stuff like marriage. And proper relationships.” His eyes darted her way.
“Yeah.”
He was staring at her and she felt a stab of self-consciousness. “What?”
He shook his head, his voice soft. “Nothing. It’s just…you understand me in a way most people don’t.”
“I’ve known you forever. That’s all.”
“It’s something more than that.”
She studied her cup, trying to hide the thrill that he felt it too—that connection that was beyond plain old familiarity that made them click. It was something deeper and stronger. Something you couldn’t create. It was just there. Always had been.
Maverick reached across the space between them and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You’ll always be my sunshine as long as I’m gazing into your gorgeous blue eyes. You could tell me I’m on death’s door, and I’d still see nothing but sunshine.”
He was so sincere, so bare and honest she wasn’t sure what to do about the power of his words. It felt like more than a line. More than something a fake boyfriend would say to his fake girlfriend.
“Hey,” he said softly, leaning on his armrest, angling himself over the edge of his chair toward her. “I know we’re at work, but can I kiss you?”
Daisy-Mae nodded, and he shifted closer like he had all the time in the world. Anticipation built inside her like someone was shaking a full bottle of soda. And she was the soda. She forced herself to wait and not to launch herself at him.
His lips gently touched hers and she was pretty confident she wouldn’t be concentrating on work in this office for the rest of the day. He kissed her slowly, deeply.
“You’re so far out of my league,” he murmured, leaning back.
Daisy-Mae took a better look at him. “Me?”
“You.” He leaned over, giving her another kiss.
“I think it’s the other way around.”
He nuzzled her nose, a soft smile in place. “Maybe we can sort it out while we’re on our second date?”
* * *
Maverick wanted to stay in Daisy-Mae’s office all day and kiss her. But he had to jump on a plane in an hour for tonight’s game in St. Louis. He really didn’t want to go. For the first time he saw a glimpse of what life could be like outside of the NHL.
He immediately shut those thoughts down. Daisy-Mae, for all her flirting and the wonderful moments they had together, had chosen to date him to help the team. And yes, she had suggested they do some real dating, but pro hockey ate up relationships, and he would be a fool to believe otherwise.
“Still on for supper after desk shopping on Sunday?” he asked.
She nodded, and their second date was confirmed. Good. He needed more time with her. More of those kisses that felt real, and to prove to her that this wasn’t just a publicity thing for him. Truthfully, he’d been worried when their first date hadn’t blown up and trended, or whatever it was supposed to do, that she’d call his image recovery hopeless and quit. Or that she’d have time to think about the frequency in which he’d been recognized on their date—considerably more than usual—and decide that dating him wasn’t the life she wanted.
“What’s your biggest regret?” he asked her suddenly. Boy, he had game, didn’t he? They’d just been kissing and now he was asking her about negative things she probably never wanted to think about.
“Not coming around that desk sooner,” she said. The wicked glint in her gaze was too inviting.
“Next time,” he promised, certain that there would be one. He leaned across the space between their chairs and kissed her again.
“What’s your biggest regret?”
“Won’t tell you.” Man, he was bad at conversations. If you asked a question, expect to have it volleyed back at you.
“Why not?”
Because his biggest regret wasn’t in real estate, missed investment opportunities, or hockey. It was the day he let Myles call dibs on her. They’d both been awed, practically falling all over themselves to speak to her. But since she’d gone to the same school as Myles, it felt natural for him to get dibs.
Stupid.
“Mav?” Her tone was soft.
“Not taking the shot when I should have.”
“Oh.”
“It’s a metaphor.” He shifted, realizing she could quickly pin him, have him confessing, and he didn’t want to reveal his secret obsession yet. He didn’t want her feeling even more obligation to date him or to get freaked out and call it all off. “Speaking of shots, since we didn’t seem to go viral, I guess we need a plan so I don’t find myself drugged by the PR team and wake up married to a lovely stranger in Vegas some weekend.”
She sighed, her shoulders dropping dramatically. “Yeah.”
“I’ll admit I was a bit of a shot blocker.”
“A shot blocker?”
“I need to get used to flaunting our relationship, let people photograph us and all of that. Although, it may never feel right encouraging it.” His lungs restricted at the thought. Putting Daisy-Mae out there where she could get hurt, attacked, or publicly picked apart? It went against his every bone.
“So we need to draw more attention?”
“Yup.”
“I have an idea.”
“Yeah?” He hoped it had to do with kissing her again. A lot.
“How do you feel about a wardrobe makeover? You know, wearing something a bit different?”
The way she narrowed her eyes had him shaking his head and holding up his hands as though he needed to physically ward her off. “No. No way. No, no, no.”
“What?” she asked innocently.
“A princess?”
“It would draw a lot of attention.”
He tipped his head back and groaned. She would not stop busting him over that.
Truthfully, he hoped she never did.
“What if you did it for charity? Dak is working on that one for sick kids that Miranda started for the team…” She lifted her brows, trying to entice him to cross-dress. Publicly.
“I had something else in mind.”
“What’s that?”
He shrugged, doubting his idea. The idea of hiring their own paparazzi—AKA the team photographer to shadow them again—felt icky when he considered saying it out loud.
She bounced in her seat, her eyes lighting up. “Do crazy stuff in public like kiss and—”
“No.” He frowned. He wanted to keep their lives personal. At least the kisses. The hot ones. An innocent peck was probably okay.
“Or have this secret elopement—which, of course, will hit all the major news channels—after a big, public engagement where you post signs up around the arena asking me to marry you?”
Actually, that would draw some serious attention.
“Ha!” She pointed at him in delight. “You’re considering that one! Keep it in your back pocket. I was also thinking we could sunbathe on a yacht wearing not much—if you know what I mean. Have a helicopter fly overhead…”
He was pretty sure that growling sound was coming from him. He could feel the structure of the cup in his grip giving way to the pressure of his closing fist. As evenly as he could muster, he said, “I was thinking we could rehire the team photographer.”
She fake pouted. “But that other stuff would be so much fun, Mavvie.”
“The photographer worked the first time. We could build on the initial photos.”
“You’re not going to propose in front of the entire rink?” She gave a dramatic sigh, and he realized, like a sucker, that he’d fallen right into reacting to her teasing.
Except now he couldn’t get the vision of them sunbathing together out of his mind, or that she might be receptive to an engagement. Would she say yes to him? For all of their lives, just the two of them? Quiet times. Busy times. They’d be together. Nobody else. No more of this dating garbage. Just two happy people in love, holding hands through the ups and downs of life.
Wow, okay. He needed to get his brain checked. He was way ahead of things here.
“The calls about deals are still coming in, right?” She looked concerned enough that he wanted to lie to her.
He shook his head. “It’s early days, of course.”
“So we could try going a bit more bold? Bigger? Play it up on the weekend?”
He felt a smile lift his mood again. He loved she wasn’t afraid of fame, of sharing him a little. Even though he’d much rather stay out of the limelight and spend all of that time with her instead. It made him think that maybe he could have it all—a relationship and hockey—if it was with someone like Daisy-Mae.
“If we do, it means no shying away from the cameras.”
He sighed involuntarily. “All right.”
“And I should know some things.”
“Like what?”
“Like…what do you look for in a woman?”
“Why do you need to know that?”
“So I can be her. Make it believable.”
“Never change for a man, Daisy-Mae.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that.”
He stared at her, furious that she might think she had to change for him in order to be someone he wanted to be with. Obviously he wasn’t very good at making himself clear.
He slammed his coffee down on her desk as he stood. He took her hand, pulled her to standing. She looked alarmed when he yanked the cup from her hand and set it beside his own. She was babbling something about judges and playing to their biases and that the public was similar.
He pulled her against him.
“Never ever change for me. Ever.”
Her eyes were wide, and she went quiet. Then he gave her a kiss that would remove all doubt that she was the only woman he wanted—exactly the way she was.
* * *
By the time Maverick stopped kissing her she was dazed, her legs unsteady and her mind a shattered mess.
She felt disheveled and disoriented.
He released her, his eyes steady, locked on hers. Daisy-Mae was the first to look away as she sat back down again to give her legs a chance to recover.
What on earth was that?
That kiss. It was… She’d never been kissed like that. Ever.
She blinked up at him. He cleared his throat and retrieved their coffees. He held onto her cup until she met his gaze again. Then he gave her a slow smile so full of promises and heat it was all she could do not to grin like a fool.
She’d just had her brains kissed out. At work.
“So,” she said, “don’t change. Gotcha.” Her voice was breathy, and she didn’t know whether to go find a cold shower somewhere or straddle Maverick in his chair.
“So what I want? I want to be friends first. That’s important to me.” He was watching her, his cup cradled in his large hands.
“Okay.” She thought about it. “We’re friends, right?”
“We are.”
“Okay. First check mark.”
“I like smart women who are fun and easy to be around.”
“Oh, I am checking off all of your boxes!” Her tone was light, but inside she felt like her very foundation had been rocked. She felt spooked. Maverick might like her as much as she did him. She might actually have a chance. And if she actually had a chance….
“Getting along with my family and friends is vital.”
“Check. And I don’t kick animals. I’m a nice person.”
“Outspoken.”
“Wait. I thought we were listing my qualities?”
He laughed. “You’re the right kind of loudmouth. It’s a list-worthy quality. Trust me.”
What was there not to love about this man?
“A loudmouth for the greater good?” she teased.
“Something like that.”
“And what does your dream woman dress like?” She dropped a touch of honey in her tone and he leaned in.
“Like you, I guess.”
She loved the game where you played casual, and like you were unaffected by each other. You both acted like you were unbothered. Then when one of you finally broke, you had crazy-hot kisses.
Absolutely loved it.
“Which version? The before or after Daisy-Mae?”
“The one who wears my name and number on her back.” He leaned close. “Not Leo’s, or Landon’s, or Dylan’s. Mine.”
She was never getting that image out of her head of him wanting his name on her back.
“You’re encouraging favoritism from the ticket holder experience manager?”
“It’s called wearing your boyfriend’s number,” he growled. “It’s a thing.”