30. Daisy
thirty
Daisy
Chord’s retirement party is something out of a magazine. Charlie has outdone herself. The Fury’s budget helped, but even with buckets of money, an event of this caliber takes vision.
The color scheme is breathtaking, unsurprising given Violet’s hand in choosing the palette.
There are flowers upon flowers everywhere—peonies, mostly, which are Charlie’s favorite.
Bunches and bouquets burst from vases on the tables, in garlands from the ceiling, and from white, arched trellises at every entrance.
The air smells of sweet blooms and Dylan’s delicious menu—platter after platter of tempting morsels that are snapped up almost the minute they leave the kitchen.
But the view over Silver Leaf from the restaurant’s wall of glass is the crowning glory, and summer has put on a show today. Blue skies stretch over endless green pastures and rich lines of vines, a nod from Mother Nature to remind me I’m home again.
Two hours in, with the speeches over, the dessert canapes circling, and the best Silver Leaf wines still flowing, the vibe is friendly and loose. If only my date was feeling the same.
From our position at the bar, I sidle up to Beau, champagne flute in hand, and lower my voice. “Did I tell you yet how hot you look today?”
He does look incredible. Beige trousers that fit snugly around his incredible ass.
Sneakers, not loafers. A white linen button-down rolled to the elbows and showing off his toned forearms. He’s shaved his beard, trimmed his mustache, and styled his hair, and while I love the rough, rugged version of this man, I’m enjoying the thrill of seeing him in a different element.
He casts me a sideways look that’s part flattered and part uncomfortable. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Darlin’, because I can’t see a reason to wear linen pants ever again.”
His eyes sweep up and down my body, appreciating my floor-length lavender halter dress.
It’s made of the softest, swishiest silk I’ve ever felt and cut to expose my back to the limit of decency.
I’ve pinned my hair up to show it off to every advantage, and he casually drifts his fingers down my spine, then lingers at the edge of the fabric before coasting his hand over my ass.
“More importantly, have I told you what a fucking vision you are in that dress?” He slips a possessive hand around my waist and pulls me a little closer to his side. “Can’t believe how many horny hockey players keep looking at you.”
I laugh quietly and turn my head to speak softly. “You’ve got as many eyes on you,” I tell him, warm with pride and satisfaction. “Watch out, Covington, you’re hot stuff.”
He casts his eye around the restaurant, filled with Chord’s teammates, San Francisco business associates, press and social media influencers, plus other hangers-on.
Everyone understood the assignment, and the place looks like a carefully choreographed fashion shoot.
The fact is not lost on my sister, who hired a professional photographer to obnoxiously click, click, click his way around the room.
Beau grimaces. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.”
“You’re here as a guest of Chord Davenport,” I tell him firmly, “and you’re my date. Are you having a good time? Even just a little?”
His mouth lifts on one side. “The food’s good,” he admits. “The band can play. The wine is fantastic, and Ollie looks cute. But Darlin’, the best thing about this party is you.” He nods toward my injured hand. “Is that better today?”
“Much.” I prove it by taking his fingers and tugging gently. “Come on. Enough hiding on the sidelines. It’s time to join the party.”
I lead him through the crowds, winding past hockey players and corporate hitters, smiling politely and nodding at faces that look slightly familiar.
Charlie made it clear this is a networking event as much as it is a celebration for our brother, but all that pales beside the fact that Beau’s here, and my brother invited him, and I can finally see an end to the mess we made the first time we tried to build a life together.
Our old life was built on what I thought I wanted. This one will be built on what I know I need. Beau. Ollie. My family. And Silver Leaf.
“Hey, lovebirds,” I say as we approach Finn and Rosie, who linger at the edge of a group that includes Dylan and Poppy, Charlie, Violet, and Rosie’s publicist, a woman named Pia who I’ve met before. “Are you enjoying yourselves?”
Finn snorts quietly. “The food is good. The band isn’t bad. Chord’s teammates are friendly enough, but the rest of this crowd? All the fake smiles and schmoozing?” He looks around with an analytical frown. “I’ll be happy when it’s over.”
“Told you,” Beau mumbles, and I give him an exasperated look.
Rosie slips her arm into Finn’s. “I don’t know,” she says. “This is a lot more enjoyable than some of the industry events we’ve had to attend. And at least today, I’m off the clock. We can relax and have fun.”
Finn huffs a laugh. “True.”
There’s a small silence, and I throw my brother a subtle frown, then pointedly bug my eyes toward Beau.
Finn blinks, then clears his throat. “So, Beau. Good to see you. You, ah, settling in at Silver Leaf?”
Beau tenses but recovers quickly. “I am. Working in a stable that Daisy runs is like coming home, you know? We operate in much the same ways, have similar views on things, and work well together. Ollie loves it here too.”
Finn glances at the dance floor, where Ollie and Izzy twist and jump in the off-beat and totally unselfconscious way that only kids can.
“Yeah, he’s a cool kid,” Finn comments with a genuine smile.
“Thanks,” Beau says, casting a look at the dance floor too. “I think so too.”
There’s sudden commotion on the other side of the room, at a table where Chord sits with his coach and closest teammates. I recognize most of them from watching games and the handful of times they’ve been to Aster Springs over the last year.
Not often, but when Chord first started with the Fury, his coach had to pull out all the stops to bring the guys together as a team.
That meant following Chord here when he was determined to hide for the off-season.
Coach Campbell’s plan worked. The Fury came from nowhere to win the championship this year, thanks in no small part to my brother’s captaincy.
He’s leaving the game on the ultimate high, and I love that for him.
Though whatever happened at his table has put a thunderous scowl on his face, and he doesn’t seem to care that he’s attracting eyes as he stalks across the room, leaving the rest of the Fury’s first line sitting stunned at the table and Coach Campbell hot on his heels.
“What’s wrong?” Violet asks as my brother reaches us.
He takes her hand, and I can see the effort it takes him to stay calm and keep his voice low. Dylan, Poppy, Charlie, and Pia crowd closer to better hear him.
“Spencer fucking Cook has been traded to the Fury for next season. They’re making that asshole captain.”
My stomach drops, and I check the Fury table again, their stormy faces now making sense.
“Who’s Spencer Cook?” Beau murmurs, but it’s Dylan who answers him.
“Chord’s biggest rival,” he says. “The guy’s a jerk.”
“Right.” Beau gives Dylan a nod. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t want you to find out today,” Campbell says as he joins us, with a careful eye on the room. “I know this is difficult to hear.”
“Difficult?” Chord’s eyes flash. “The man is a dick. He’s got no moral compass, no class, and no conscience. Fury fans are going to hate him. Spencer Cook is a PR nightmare, and you know it.”
Campbell sighs and shakes his head, then oddly glances at Pia, hovering at the edge of the conversation with a glass of wine balanced elegantly in her fingers.
“You’re right, of course,” she says. “It’s why the team hired me to support his transition leading into next season.”
Chord snorts, and I glance around, relieved to see that most people have lost interest in his tantrum.
“Support his transition?” Chord asks. “You mean rehabilitate his shitty image?”
Pia smiles a little. “You could put it that way. Yes.”
“Good luck,” Chord huffs. “You’re going to need it.”
“Well, I’ll need a partner, at least. My firm landed the contract, and I’ll be the project lead, but I already have a full client list. We’ll hire someone to be on the ground in the off-season to do most of the heavy lifting.”
Chord grunts. “Hope it pays well.”
“It pays just fine,” Pia says with amusement.
“So, listen,” says Dylan, looping an arm around Poppy’s waist. “All this bitching about Spencer Cook is fun and all, and I’d say I don’t mean to change the subject, but I absolutely do. I’m taking my girl for a spin on the dance floor, so if you’ll excuse us?”
Poppy, already beautiful in a baby-blue strapless dress, beams at the suggestion. Dylan takes her hand, twirls her around, and leads her away.
Finn turns to Rosie and offers her a hand. “Care to dance?”
She smiles and sets her fingers on his palm. “Absolutely.”
Chord visibly pulls himself together, his thumb sweeping back and forth over the back of Violet’s hand, as he nods toward Beau.
“Nice pants,” he says.
Beau snorts. “Thanks.”
“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” I ask, appreciating Chord’s attempt to make Beau feel welcome but wanting to bring it home.
“It was,” he says with uncommon warmth.
I squeeze Beau’s hand, and he returns the gesture with an even tighter grip.
Chord and Violet peel off next, my brother coaxing his shy, blushing bride-to-be out onto the edge of the floor, where they sway in time with the music.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Campbell says, “I’ve got fires to put out at the team table. Chord’s not the only one unhappy about his replacement.”
He backs away with a short incline of his head, and I watch him rejoin the Fury table, a bunch of big guys with beers in hand and scowls on their faces, and wish him luck trying to turn that around tonight.
I sigh and slip my hand into Beau’s. “Feel like dancing?”
He dips his head and whispers in my ear, “Just try and stop me.”
His crooked smile makes my stomach flip, and I spare a guilty wince for Charlie.
She looks gorgeous tonight, her dark hair loose down her back, her curves shown off to perfection in an olive Violet James original.
A pang of guilt reminds me that I began the summer trying to convince her it was the two of us against the world, and now she’s alone. Again.
“Do you want to join us, Charlie?” I ask.
“Thanks, but no. I’ve got a list of people I need to connect with before the event is over, and Pia has ideas about how we can uplift our Silver Leaf winter promotional strategies. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy, so you go have fun.”
She seems to mean it, but still I ask, “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” She sips from her wineglass as if to prove she’s having a good time. “I’ll join you later.”
I allow Beau to spin me out onto the dance floor, where my family and a crowd of guests enjoy the almost-modern tunes played by the band. Ollie spots us instantly. He skids over on his white-sneakered feet and takes my hand, then Beau’s.
“This is the best party ever!” he says, twisting to the music.
The three of us laugh and dance for the next couple of tracks, and my heart almost bursts with how happy it makes me.
Beau loosens up, leaning into the music and mirroring Ollie’s more questionable dance moves.
Izzy glides over, showing us how high she can make her tutu twirl with a quick spin on her heel, which draws Dylan and Poppy into our orbit.
“Mind if we cut in?” Poppy says at Beau’s shoulder.
He makes room for her by his side, and even takes her hand to spin her gently under one arm.
Dylan slips into our circle on my other side, then collects me in a dancing embrace.
Ollie and Izzy are having the time of their lives dancing next to Finn and Rosie now, even if every few seconds, Ollie stops to gaze up at the blonde starlet, brows high like he can’t believe this is his life.
“Thank you,” I say to Dylan.
His smile turns puzzled. “What for?”
“Making an effort with Beau.”
He casts a look over his shoulder, where Beau and Poppy dance together, Dylan’s wife laughing as Beau spins her around, then dips her low.
“If you say he’s a good guy, I believe you,” Dylan tells me, then adds firmly, “Until he proves otherwise. I mean it. One wrong move, and you’ll have a hard time convincing us to give the guy another chance.”
“I get it,” I say. “But I’m not worried. This is it, Dylan. I can feel it.”
His smile is a little wistful. “It’s good to see you happy, Daze.”
A flicker of vulnerability trips my heart, and my smile falters. “I’m always happy.”
My brother takes a deep breath as he shakes his head. “No. Seeing you with Beau makes me realize you aren’t, or at least you haven’t been this entire year you’ve been home. Not really. But now? You shine from the inside again.”
My throat feels thick, and I blink back tears. “Thank you.”
His smile is more genuine. “You’re welcome.”
The music is good enough to keep us on the floor while I dance with each of my brothers.
Charlie joins us, and our family dominates the space with a tight circle of basic moves and extravagant energy.
The wine probably doesn’t hurt, and with a gentle buzz, even the news about Spencer Cook isn’t enough to dim Chord’s mood for long.
I can’t remember the last time we were all together like this, laughing and easy with each other and having a good time.
Beau finds his way to me and slips his arms around my waist.
“Are you having fun?” he asks.
“So much,” I reply. “What about you?”
“It’s better than I thought it would be,” he admits.
“I’m glad,” I say. “And maybe a little more hopeful?”
He turns me against him and holds me close. “One party isn’t going to solve all our problems, Darlin’.”
“It doesn’t have to.” I let my fingers play at the edges of his hair at the back of his neck. “It just has to put us on the path to a better future.”
“And you think we’ve done that?”
“You know what?” I glance around at my family and feel the answer in my bones. “I really think we have.”