Page 4 of The Cupcake Cottage

Before Maverick could enter the locker room, Louis jerked his chin toward his right shoulder, indicating Maverick should join him. The team filtered past as he stepped aside.

“What did you do now, Blades? Date a woman more than once?” one of the rookies chirped.

“Yup,” he teased back. “Getting soft in my old age.”

“You said it. Not us,” Leo, Maverick’s favorite rookie, said with a loud laugh. The kid, already in his late twenties but new to the NHL, had so much talent that Maverick wished hazing was still allowed, just so he could ensure the rookie remembered there was a pecking order. And that he wasn’t at the top of it. Not yet, anyway.

“One day you’ll grow a personality, Socks,” he called after Leo. “Looking forward to that day.”

“I hate that nickname,” he called back. “I go by Blaze, thank you.”

“Blaze is what a fifteen-year-old calls her barrel-racing horse.”

“You lose your socks before our first exhibition game, the nickname sticks,” Landon, the second oldest player on the ice, chimed in.

“I swear someone stole them from my locker.”

Landon gave Maverick a commiserating pat on the back as he hobbled past in his goalie gear. “Keep on fighting for us old guys.”

“Fight the Alzheimer’s and arthritis, old man!” Leo cackled.

Maverick smirked, knowing his life could be a lot harder than a few teasing jabs. Despite his humiliating mid-season trade last year, and the swirling rumors that had come with him, the team had mostly accepted him as their captain.

Louis and Maverick moved down the hallway for more privacy.

“You were looking good out there,” Louis stated.

Maverick ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the damp locks out of habit from his times going on camera immediately after a game. “Thanks.”

“Think we’ll have a good season?”

“Leo is green but learned a lot during his short time in the minors. More than most. And he’s eager to pick up what he doesn’t know. He’ll win some cups during his career.”

“He was a decent pick.” Louis was quiet for a beat. “So were you.”

“I know there was no choice.” Not this time.

“I came out on top.”

That was a generous statement coming from a man coaching an expansion team. As they were new to the league, the owner was working hard to gather players and investors, and having to take on a player with bad press and a high salary wasn’t a position he’d ever want to be in. The Dragons needed some wins and some fans, and Maverick feared he’d be unable to deliver either.

Louis grew quiet, arms crossed as he watched Maverick from under the brim of his Dragons ball cap. “I made you captain because you’re good with the guys and you keep the team focused.”

Focused. He nearly scoffed. He’d practically tripped over his own stick when he spotted Daisy-Mae in the stands earlier. His buddy Myles Wylder’s ex-girlfriend. Little Miss Cutoffs with legs that went clear to her ears, a generous smile, and a kind and gentle heart that made him want to pull her into his arms every time he saw her. Seeing as she was Off Limits thanks to the stupidest honor system known to man—the Bro Code—he did what he could to avoid her.

That was when he wasn’t trying to accidentally-on-purpose bump into her somewhere just to feel the force of that mega-watt smile. He was a sucker for her casual insights and the way they made him believe he’d been seen by someone who didn’t want something from him.

If she was truly the mascot handler, like she’d appeared to be today, the team would never win a home game. The woman could give Miss America a run for her money, and she was probably now the not-so-secret weakness of at least ninety percent of his teammates. Ninety-five, if he included himself. He only hoped that visiting teams would face the same lack of immunity to her focus-breaking charms and miss as many passes as the Dragons had today.

“I need your head in the game and in practices,” Louis said, his tone firm and slightly reprimanding.

“Yes, Coach.” He lowered his gaze, embarrassed by how distracted he’d been.

Louis’s chest expanded as he held in a breath. From experience, Maverick knew he likely had about ten thousand things to say and was deciding where to start. They were all probably things Maverick didn’t want to hear.

He shifted in his skates and waited.

“This team is an opportunity for both of us to end our careers on a high note. Problem is, the press is still looking to skewer you.”

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