Page 161 of Hat Trick

Lexi

If that’s supposed to be a threat, it’s not going to work on me!

Me

Clearly.

Lexi

Dinner sounds great. What should I wear?

Me

Something casual but warm. I figured we could walk.

Lexi

I’m excited.

Me

See you at 7, Armstrong.

Lexi

Looking forward to it, Mitchy.

* * *

I pacein front of Lexi’s door for three minutes before I finally decide to knock. I take a step back and wait for her to answer while I practically sweat through the hoodie I have on under my jacket.

I’m so fucking nervous.

This woman is a goddamn queen, and she can be with anyone she wants. The fact that she’s pickingmeblows my mind, and I’m going to do everything in my power to prove I’m worthy of her time.

The door unlocks and flies open. I blink and Lexi is there in a pink sweater and jeans with her long dark hair framing her face, and yeah. I’m so fucking weak. I almostwhimperwhen I see her because she’s so beautiful.

“Hi,” I say, and her smile is sly and sexy.

“Hi,” she says, eyes bouncing to the flowers I’m holding. “What are those?”

“They’re for you.” I thrust the bouquet her way, and her mouth pops open. She takes the flowers and holds them close to her chest. “Tulips, right?”

“Right. You remembered,” she whispers, touching one of the petals. “Of course you did. Gosh. They’re beautiful. Where did you find them out of bloom?”

“I pulled a few strings and might’ve used my name. It’s not something I do frequently, but when the situation calls for it I will.”

I shove my hands in my pockets and shrug, trying to look nonchalant when, really, I spent three days calling dozens of greenhouses across the Southeast to see if anyone had any tulips they could overnight me. I finally found a place in Florida, and a gruff, irritated-sounding dude assured me the flowers would be at my door by morning.

He wasn’t lying, and I think I might believe in angels now.

“Do you want to come in? I’m going to put these in some water, then I’ll be ready to go,” she says, turning on her heel and gesturing me inside.

“Thanks.” I shut the door behind me and follow her into the kitchen. I slide into a chair at her small kitchen table and watch her snip the ends of the stems and fill a vase up with water. “How was your day?”

“Busy. Two women I went to college with host a podcast about sports and women enjoying sports, and I recorded an episode with them about my favorite teams to make the NBA playoffs.”

“No hockey talk?”

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