Page 52 of Puck You Very Much

Maybe because she already knew the worst, just as he knew the information was safe with her. It was a relief that he no longer had to carry it around alone. Evidently, she didn’t feel sorry for him, which was what he was most afraid of. Then there was the fact that they were actually something like…normal again. And he needed that.

Overall, he was in a shockingly good mood for being so hungover. The feeling, however, only lasted until he walked onto the set.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” he exclaimed, staring in horror at the costumes hanging on two chairs in front of a white screen.

Lucy blushed and scratched her head. “I admit, it wasn’t my idea, but…the photographer thinks it will look impressive.”

Stunned, he stared at her. “I’m not wearing devil horns!”

“Honestly, Dax,” she whispered, leaning toward him conspiratorially, “don’t you prefer those to the angel wings that Jack has to wear?”

Instantly, his gaze slid to the pile of feathers on the other chair that would have made any chicken back away in shock. Well, there was something to that, but still… “Shit, no! This is just too much, Lucy!”

“It’s good publicity!” she assured him, her face bright red. “DevilandSaintmeet and become unlikely friends.”

“Idioticfriends dressed like 6-year-olds!” he corrected her caustically.

She waved it off. “It doesn’t matter, the message is the same.”

“No!”

“Well, Leslie loved it,” she said, frowning. “I couldn’t talk her out of it.”

“That’s your problem! It was my rule that I would not do anything with Jack West that was only for the sake of improving my image.”

“This isn’t for your image! This is about ticket sales. This…”

“Oh my God, no,” a horrified voice interrupted them and they both glanced up.

Jack had arrived and his face looked like Dax felt. “No!” He pointed to the wings. “No.” He pointed to the devil’s horns. “No.” He pointed at Lucy.

Well, what do you know; they were on the same side, for once.

She moaned—and as much as Dax enjoyed the sound, it was inappropriate for the workplace.

“At least try it!” she pleaded. “If the photos look stupid, we’ll take some more without the props.”

“No!” he and Jack responded simultaneously.

Dax glanced at his brother and, for a few seconds, a memory flashed through his mind: He and Jack telling their mother that they wouldn’t be taking their little sister to hockey practice, they weren’t eating Brussels sprouts, and they weren’t giving Dax’s dad his booze back.

“Yes,” Lucy insisted, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin. Oh, good God, she was ready to fight! At least, that was how she always looked when she was preparing to launch an attack. “You two are the biggest fish on the ice right now and the reason why half of America is talking about the Hawks! You owe it to me to try.”

Yep. Her blows were deep and hard and left a feeling of guilt and unease in the stomach.

“What’s the point of all this?” Jack asked, apparently unaware he was fighting a battle that had long been lost. “What’s the point of the costumes?”

“Well, they’re supposed to…make you look masculine, I guess,” she said, clearing her throat awkwardly.

“Wings and horns are masculine?” Dax echoed. Because if that was true, he had been dressing all wrong for years.

“Well, there’s also a sword and a bow and arrow,” she explained matter-of-factly, gesturing to the weapons lying on the floor in front of the chairs, which Dax hadn’t noticed until now.

“I’ll take the sword!” he and Jack said in unison.

Dax narrowed his eyes at his brother. “What does an angel want with a sword? Angels don’t like violence. The devil does.”

“The devil has horns, so he doesn’t need anything else to impale sinners,” Jack lectured. “With that bow and arrow, I’ll look like I’m about to lose at the Hunger Games.”

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