Chapter 19
PIPER
Well, the engagement announcement did not go well.
Rings Before Rings? Fans Worry Engagement Will Break Super Bowl Streak
The Engagement Heard 'Round the Stadium: Fans Fear It'll Sack the Season
Tess was activating full frantic, everybody mode, Zach had been busy, and Piper's schedule hadn't slowed, either. Then she got a message:
Zach: Stop by my place. There will be puppies.
Piper: Is that code?
Zach: You're gonna want to see this. Stop by when you have a sec.
Piper stepped into Wild Sacks HQ and came chest-to-pecs with a football player wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs and an unapologetic grin.
Football players—real Stallions players, including Drake—walked around in their skivvies.
Bins of Wild Sacks underwear overflowed like a fabric rainbow, meticulously sorted by cut and color in a valiant attempt at order.
And a whiteboard titled The Stallion Right Up Front with exclamation points, diagrams, and hearts she suspected were ironically drawn and yet suspiciously well-balanced.
"This one? The cut is too high," Babushka pushed him away toward the back. "Leave something to the imagination," she said to another elderly woman with a bolt of fabric balanced on her walker. "Football is family friendly."
The woman nodded and shuffled behind Mr. Football and Babushka.
There were another four women of a certain age group all working together at a couple of sewing machines. The fabric practically flying.
There was definitely a vibe. A creative, weirdly energizing, scents-like-leather-glue-and-masculinity kind of vibe.
And there were puppies.
The design studio side of the industrial space had been transformed into a workshop-slash-fever dream—if said fever also came with a whole lotta puppies, a group of elderly assistants, and a minor fire code violation due to the sheer number of people present.
Zach stood nearby, mid-conversation with a tattooed tight end who looked like he could bench-press a Harley. Zach was animated and easy, gesturing toward a cluster of mannequins styled in Wild Sacks boxer briefs.
He had his sleeves rolled up and a pencil behind one ear. One of the elderly assistants handed him a binder—something suspiciously like her own—and he flipped through it like it contained the secrets of the universe.
He looked in charge. Not of people, though.
Of ideas. Of energy. Of the strange magic that came when chaos was guided by someone who genuinely believed in the madness.
The playlist in the background was a mix of hyped-up beats with basslines that lived in her sternum. It skipped once, and Babushka hollered that she "vould fix it."
"Fixing it" was apparently blaring "Pony" by Ginuwine as one of the helpers knocked over the decorative arch of footballs.
And near the food table, someone was trying to coax a puppy off a table with a food spread using what appeared to be a granola bar and whispered assurances of freedom.
Piper shook her head. "There really are puppies."
"I told you there would be," Zach mumbled, stepping toward her and staring straight at her as he said, "Hi."
"Hi," she replied staring right back.
"Hey." Tess whistled with two fingers between her lips. "When you're done with your fitting, hand off the underwear to Peggy."
"Is that her grandma, Peggy?" Piper whispered.
Zach nodded. "Babushka's friend. They're helping out given the lack-of-Tess-staff at the moment."
Tess glanced over to Zach and clearly caught sight of Piper because she immediately waved. She strode over as if nothing was remotely out of the ordinary and there weren't half-naked football players strutting everywhere.
"Piper!" she said, infusing the word with excitement. "Welcome to the cross-promotional activation for the official undergarment partner of the Denver Stallions. Wild Sacks!"
"Uh…" Piper stared at the room. There was probably something she was supposed to say here.
"She means we're the official underwear of the Stallions," Zach nudged.
Piper turned to Zach and did her best impression of utter surprise. "Get out! For real?"
"And we're being used as a distraction because nothing says ditch the superstition and look the other way quite like men in their underwear," Zach continued.
"Exactly." Tess rubbed her hands together, then hugged herself.
A tiny smirk peeked out the side of Zach's mouth. "Also, I thought NDAs were in place, Tess?"
"Piper's covered." Tess blew out her breath. "Besides, the grandmothers are all here, and I trust Piper way more than them. NDAs are the least of my concerns."
"Well, in that case, Piper, welcome to the official engagement distraction," Zach said.
"Definitely a distraction," Piper agreed.
Tess held her hands up like she was telling a story. "Imagine—"
Oh, I don't have to.
"But we're on the football field with a live stream."
"That sounds like… a lot of distraction," Piper said.
"Exactly. "
"We’re already assuring that the wedding is going to happen fast. Now we inundate them with football players in the brand-new official underwear of the Stallions. And, as a bonus, if the players aren't enough—" She leveled her stare at Piper. "Puppies in mini–Wild Sacks bandanas."
"That is most definitely a distraction," Piper agreed, eyeing one of the puppies as he peed on a pair of cleats.
"The setting will be the actual field. Thank goodness, Legal cleared it. Then we're going to interview the players, showing off their Wild Sacks and holding the puppies." Tess made a ta-da gesture.
"The live stream will have links to both Wild Sacks and the puppy adoption profiles. They're rescues," Zach added. "Noah and I agreed that a portion of Wild Sacks’s sales will go to the shelter."
"That sounds like it will be…" Mayhem? Insanity? "Fun." Piper went with fun. Her voice was high and bright, like a balloon someone had overinflated.
There was a beat of silence in which Tess's overzealous smile trembled at the corners, just a little. "It's got to work. Right? You agree it's going to work?"
She looked at Piper like a magician who had pulled a rabbit out of a hat and was waiting to see whether the audience clapped or pointed out the ears sticking out of her sleeve.
Zach tilted his head. "Piper? Thoughts?"
Piper raised her chin and walked forward. "It's going to work."
Zach's smile hit her like a well-placed body shot—low, unexpected, and hard to recover from.
"For real? A sanity check," Tess said, sliding in beside Piper. "Because I feel like this is all starting to be too much."
"Adding a dozen puppies to anything will do that," Piper agreed.
"Today is fittings and pairings only," Zach said. "Ensuring fit and getting the puppy matches that work best for each player. Today's the easy day."
Babushka wailed, "Vatch out!" right before a mannequin toppled over onto a garment rack, which collapsed with a musical clang like a steel drum of despair.
"Do not vorry. It is fine," Babushka hollered.
But it didn't really seem fine.
Tess gnawed at her bottom lip. "I'm working with the one staffer who didn't bail to the hockey-team-that-won't-be-named and two interns who can't leave because they need the grade."
Now, that?
"That makes this too much," Piper said, pointing to the broken mannequin.
"We could use a hand here. Things are…" Zach ducked his chin.
Out of control? Totally obnoxious? Piper could make a long list of what things were there.
"Spinning," Tess admitted.
A twinge of recognition hit Piper square in the chest. Trying to balance everything, when nothing was stable, always made things harder than they needed to be.
"I can sell the vision," Tess continued. "That's what I do. But we must nail the logistics, or the field day will eat us alive."
Piper couldn’t help it, she immediately started organizing the room in her mind. Making little micro-plans to ease the load.
"Piper? You're the queen of organization. Could you… maybe… add this to the list of wedding stuff that needs doing?" Zach asked, sheepish. "Only if you have time."
"I'm in over my head," Tess admitted.
Piper nodded. "If you want my help."
"Yes, please. But together," Tess added quickly. "You keep us organized. I keep the vision."
Now that? That Piper could do.
"I'm so glad you're here," shirtless Drake said, joining their impromptu tête-à-tête. "Anna doesn't want to call you but her dress is tight around the waist, and she doesn't want to bug anyone, so she's not telling anybody."
Piper exhaled. Great. "I'll check in with Anna when we're done here."
As she rolled up her metaphorical sleeves and started to audit the schedule and take notes on the current puppy assignments, something shifted. Slowly. Quietly.
What was messy became confidently checked.
"I like this." Zach came up behind her once the puppies were loaded to go back to the shelter. "Working with you. Having you here."
He liked it. And she liked that he liked it. And she absolutely hated that she liked it.
"Okay, rapid-fire opinion time," Noah said as he pushed a rack of cast-offs by. "Are boxers-with-rhinestones tacky or genius?"
"Tacky," she said immediately. "Obviously."
"Genius," Zach said at the same time. "Obviously."
"Good to see we have a consensus." Noah nodded, smirking as he moved along.
Zach leaned in closer.
She turned to face him, inching back just enough to breathe. "Maybe they can be both."
Hold on, were they talking about men's boxers or something else?
"Fittings," Noah called. "Drake is in Flagship Black boxer briefs. Tight end over there is in compression. Rookie, you get Bolt trunks."
"Pairings," Piper echoed, scanning the kennel list. "Drake with the lab mix for steady, loyal. Tight end with the golden for camera candy. Rookie with the scrappy terrier."
"Talking points," Tess added. "Drake is team, family, and city. Tight end is strength and community. Rookie is new beginnings."
"Excellent." Zach's eyes sparkled, but the lazy smirk dissolved into something quieter. Kinder. "Thank you for coming and not immediately leaving."
Piper narrowed her eyes. "I feel slightly ambushed."
He laughed, warm and amused and—ugh—chest-rumbling. "Fair. I guess I owe you."
They ended up shoulder to shoulder in front of the spreadsheet displaying the player stats and which puppy they were assigned.
Nothing about this was polished or met even her vaguest professional standards. But somehow it worked. Thoughtful. Intentional. Slightly unhinged. And still managing to hum with the possibility of magic.
She blinked at the screen, the command center inside her brain certifiably fried. She was disoriented. Not because things were wrong, but because they weren't.
"Hey," Zach said quietly. "You okay?"
Piper's throat tightened, but Zach's steady gaze held her steady, too. After a breath, she said, "This isn't what I expected. You're not what I expected."
That made him turn. "No?"
She shook her head and met his gaze, steady now. "That's the problem."
He didn't respond. Just looked at her with a slow, knowing smile that landed like a warning shot straight to her equilibrium.
And that—the way her ribcage felt like it was expanding too fast, and her brain couldn't keep pace—that was a real problem.
"I need to go check in with Anna." Piper bit at her bottom lip.
"Want me to tag along?" he asked.
Piper scanned the leftover destruction. "I think you've got quite a bit left to do here."
He nodded and gave her a quick kiss. Nothing special, just a standard goodbye-for-now kiss between two people who cared about each other.
That was the part that made her queasy. Because it was normal. Nothing unusual. And that made it extra special.
Right before she crossed the threshold, she muttered under her breath, "This is dangerous. I like this. I like him."
"Piper," Babushka caught her before she could get out the door. She patted Piper's cheek. "You are vorried. Do not vorry. You vill fix dress. You are like pretty duct tape. Ve are lucky you are here."
Piper almost laughed. Almost cried. Maybe both.
"Thank you." She went in for a hug because… well... it felt right.
Babushka caught her hands before she could back away. "And I know, your concern? It's not really about the dress. But ve von't tell Zachary."
Babushka held tight while she smiled a terrifying grin. Like she knew. She knew Piper's world was changing and, dammit, she liked it a whole lot.
"Right. Okay. I'll see you soon." Piper pulled away and she didn't stop. She shook her head and kept walking.
Because if she didn't get some distance soon, she was going to start admitting things no blinged-out boxer briefs or puppies could distract her from.
And she wasn't ready for that.