Chapter Seventeen
“ H olt!” Coach yells at me from the bench, and I wince at his tone.
Fuck.
That was my fault. I should’ve been able to stop that shot. I hesitated, read it way too late, and they took advantage of it.
Thankfully, this is only practice and not a game, but still. I need to get my head on straight because I’m usually a solid wall.
Lifting my glove into the air, I wave my apology, ducking my head.
Skating back around, facing my net, I shake off whatever the hell that was and reset.
Dropping into form, I crack my neck and ready my blocker as the teams set up on center ice for puck drop.
Exhaling a breath, I mutter to myself, “Fucking lock in, Holt. Let’s go.”
But it’s really fucking hard when I know that after this, I’m going to be on a date with Daphne.
I just need to get through the rest of this practice.
I get ready at my place before leaving to pick Daphne up from her house. I needed some fresh clothes, and I wanted to give her a little space and time to spend with Maeve.
Speaking of my sister, she made sure to shoot me a text earlier after learning of our plans tonight, letting me know that I would meet my maker if I fucked this up.
Grabbing the bouquet from the bench seat, I kill the engine of my truck and step outside, feeling like a thousand bees are stinging my skin.
I’m so goddamn nervous, unlike yesterday, when I had some liquid courage, which gave me the confidence to ask her out, but I’m running sober tonight.
I didn’t want to risk a single memory getting fuzzy.
Closing my pickup door, I take a deep breath and brush my hand down my shirt to straighten it out. It’s a lot cooler at night now, and since it’s nearly eight o’clock and the sun is setting, I chose jeans and one of my favorite Mammoths shirts.
I had about a thousand outfits laid out before I finally decided on this. I was scared that something dressier would stand out, and we’re going to a local fair, so it’s not exactly the place to be super dressed up.
I swear I don’t overthink anything in my life unless it comes to her. I just want to impress her and win her back, and every step of the way on that journey matters.
Adjusting my backward baseball cap, I walk to the front door with the bouquet of sunflowers and white roses in hand. My heart is beating against my ribs, rattling me to my core as I knock.
I could probably walk in without them questioning it since, you know, I’ve been living here. But I want to treat this like a date because, to me, it is.
The door opens, and I’ve never been surer than in this moment that I’m head over heels for this girl.
She’s it for me, and she always will be.
Her eyes pin me in place, outlined in smoky light-brown makeup with golden accents, making the blues of her irises pop that much more. Her orange-and-red hair flows down her back in loose curls, tucked behind her ear.
My gaze drinks her in—from the gold earrings to the thin straps of her sundress, to the way the floral fabric perfectly outlines her full breasts, flowing down her body and stopping in the middle of her thighs.
“You look”—I exhale through pursed lips—“like the rest of my life.”
The corners of her lips kick up, and she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth with a sensual stare.
Holding the flowers out for her, I clear my throat. “These are for you.”
She happily takes them, inhaling deeply as her eyes drift closed. “Mmm. They smell amazing. My favorite.”
“Oh, I know.”
Her eyes open at my statement.
“I remember.”
Her cheeks flush. “Well, thank you.” She smirks, and a playful gleam flashes in her eyes. “But I think I hate flowers now.”
This earns her a laugh from deep in my chest.
“Oh, do you?”
She smiles. “Yeah, I do.” Turning around, she sets them down on the entryway table. “Maybe Maeve will like them. I’d hate to see them go to waste.”
“Are you going to be this stubborn all night?” I chuckle, offering her my hand.
Glancing down at it, she flicks her gaze back up to mine and walks past me without taking my hand. “Sure am.”
I bite down on my bottom lip as my dick twitches in my pants. There is something about her being such a little brat that makes me want to kiss her fucking senseless until that mouth of hers can only beg me for more.
“After you.” I close the door behind her and follow her.
She holds her hand out and stops me when I try to get the truck door for her. “No need for that. I can get it myself.”
I let her win this round, walking around to the driver’s side and getting in.
Sassy Daphne means comfortable Daphne, and that is a win in and of itself. I want nothing more than for her sassy mouth to keep telling me off. It makes me happy, and it turns me on.
I start the truck, and the CD begins playing the playlist I made years ago, full of her favorite old songs.
“Oh my God, is this ‘Beautiful Soul’?” She reaches for the stereo and turns it up, immediately singing along to every word as I back out of the driveway.
Good. She thinks it’s the radio.
I can’t hold back my smile as I roll down my window and stick my hand out, feeling the rush of air.
I look over at her, and she catches me staring and flips me off without skipping a beat.
God, I love this girl.
My heart slams against my rib cage. The thought might have come out of nowhere, but I can’t deny that I do … love her.
Fuck, I’ve loved her for as long as I can remember. I’ve been in denial for the last couple of years, but the truth is, I’ve just been scared, scared of anchoring myself to a place in this world, to a person.
But I’m tired of denying myself the pleasure of loving her.
I’m also tired of trying to convince myself that the tattoo on my back isn’t for her. But it is; it always has been.
I turn into the gravel parking lot, and attendees direct me through the lot, waving and pointing to where I’m supposed to park.
Daphne has become increasingly quiet over the last couple of minutes, and as I kill the engine and grab my phone from the cupholder, I find her staring at me.
“What are your intentions tonight, Mason?” she asks me softly.
Unbuckling her seat belt for her, I reach over and tuck a loose strand back behind her ear. “To spend it with you. Nothing more, nothing less.”
She squints, glaring at me. “Hmm.”
Tucking my tongue to the side between my teeth, I huff out a breath. “Are you coming or not?”
Without giving her a chance to get another remark out, I hop out of the truck and shut the door behind me. Walking around the bed, I lean against the side, waiting for her.
The door opens a second later, and she slides out. “Since we’re already here.”
Gesturing toward the entrance, I murmur, “After you, Sunset.”
She strolls past me with a smirk on her lips, flipping her hair over her shoulder and handing me her purse.
Hooking it over my arm, I chuckle. “You know you didn’t need to bring this, right? Over my dead body are you paying for anything tonight.”
She stays silent, and I bite down on my bottom lip, loving that I just left her speechless. And now she has no choice because I have her wallet.
A kid jumps out in front of us, oblivious to the world around him, and I pull Daphne into me to stop them from colliding.
The kid glances up at us, and his eyes burst out of his head. “Sorry!”
I chuckle. “It’s okay.”
He runs back to his mom, who looks over at us apologetically.
The fair has always been a staple of this small town, and I’ve gone every year I’ve been here. But this is the first time I’ve ever brought a date.
Usually, it’s just us guys, getting drunk and competing at overpriced games for shitty prizes.
We walk to the gated entrance, her slightly ahead of me.
I pay for our day passes and twirl her under my arm as we stroll under the hanging twinkle lights draped across the twenty-foot-wide walkway, booths on both sides.
Knowing she more than likely can’t eat anything here, I might have arranged something special ahead of time.
“This way.” I grab her hand and pull her closer to me as we weave through the crowd of people.
Her fingers intertwine with mine, and I nearly forget about the task at hand.
“Where are we going?” she shouts up at me, and I shake my head softly as I look down at her.
“You’ll see.” Guiding her down the fairway of endless food tents and stands, I spot the one I’m looking for.
A teammate’s parents actually travel fair to fair, selling their famous funnel cakes, which are absolutely not gluten-free.
However, they did let me stash a cooler there and an airtight-sealed container kept in one of their clean and empty warmers just for tonight for this special occasion.
Getting in their line like every other normal customer, Daphne and I wait. She impatiently looks up at me and asks what we’re doing. I ignore her every time.
When there are three people left in line, I hand her my wallet and her purse.
“I’m going to run to the bathroom quickly. Will you just order for me? Surprise me,” I tell her and take off before she can protest or ask too many questions.
“Mason! What the hell?” she shouts at me as I walk between tents a few stands down and loop back around to the back of the stand she’s at.
Mr. Hampton is waiting at the back door for me with a smile on his round face. “Hey, Mason. Everything’s ready for you. We haven’t touched anything.”
Sneaking up into their stand, I crouch-walk toward the front, where Daphne will be ordering. Mr. Hampton hands me one of their extra hats and an apron, sealed in new packaging, which I quickly slip on.
Squatting, I wait for Mrs. Hampton’s cue to come over, and a moment later, she snaps her fingers twice behind her back, and I make my move.
I stand up and walk over to the window, having to duck a little so as to not hit my head on the ceiling.
Leaning down, I look out of the window and find Daphne fumbling in her purse.
“What can I get for you, ma’am?” I use a clear customer-service voice.
Her head snaps up to me, eyes wide, brows furrowed, and lips parted. A laugh bubbles out of her. “What the heck are you doing in there?”