Page 13 of Secret Pucking Unicorn

Declan would usually find me there making daisy chains or cloud watching. He’d sit next to me quietly. Occasionally pointing out an interesting-looking cloud. I think he wanted to be away from his siblings too. I wonder if the gazebo is still there.

Stone speaks up from the back seat. “So, if Randi is Irish and you’re Scottish, Mac, how did you grow up together?”

Dec glances down at me, and I motion for him to explain it.

“Our parents are best friends. My mother is Irish, Da is Scottish. We lived mostly in Ireland but would go to Scotland for the holidays and school breaks. I went to senior school in the north of Scotland. Miranda’s parents traveled a lot for work. There was a passel of us kids—I have five younger siblings—so Miranda stayed with us and was part of the tribe.”

“They’re equine veterinarians,” I chime in.

“We’ve been best friends for six years, Randi, and this is the first time you mentioned what your parents do,” Carter says from the back seat.

I shrug. “It never came up.”

“Do you have siblings, Randi?” Bedard asks from next to me.

I shake my head. “No, just me.”

“Lucky,” Brick mutters, and we all laugh.

“It was lonely a lot of the time, especially when I went away to school when I was ten.” Dec’s hand leaves the steering wheel to give my knee a gentle squeeze. My tummy flips. “But I’m great at adapting to new people and places. It’s a benefit.”

We park and head from the parking garage to the rink. I’m not prepared for the icy wind sweeping down the Boardwalk and off the Atlantic Ocean when we leave the parking garage. It steals my breath and I stumble into Dec. He immediately wraps his arm around me and hustles me across the boards into the doors of the pier.

When I catch my breath and reluctantly step out from under Declan’s arm, I laugh.

“Whoa, I was not expecting that. Next time, I’m buttoning up my coat and wearing a hat and gloves. That’s brutal.”

“Bet you’re wishing you stayed in New Zealand,” Carter says. “You could be on the beach now.”

Hopefully, they chalk the red in my cheeks up to the frigid wind when I say, “No, this is where I want to be.” Maybe I’m imagining the uptick of Dec’s lips at my statement, but I hope not.

We part ways and I go to Daphne’s office, rapping my knuckles on the door frame to alert her to my presence.

“Hey Randi, did you get some sleep last night? I feel horrible we’re dragging you back and forth across the country.”

I return her warm smile as I drape my coat over the arm of the sofa in her office.

“I slept well,” I say, settling in the chair in front of her desk. “Honestly, it’s better I came here first. My rhythm is screwy anyway and when you factor in time zones and the hemisphere flip, I don’t know what day it is or what season I’m in. Working gives me something to focus on at least. I’ll adjust soon enough. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“When Logan and I travel, I usually spend the first day in bed.”

My eyebrows inch toward my hairline. I’m not stupid.

“Daph, that has nothing to do with travel and everything to do with Logan.”

Her hand drops to rub her belly while a pretty pink flush stains her cheeks.

We both laugh. Daphne was a major factor why I wanted to come back to New Jersey and work for the Devil Birds. I don’t truly connect with very many people. Daphne is one of the few. She would have been at my graduation from Wickham, but she and Logan had the flu and were staying home. She was heartbroken to miss it and was relieved when I told her a friend from home attended. I didn’t tell her the friend was Declan because I didn’t want to explain our relationship. I can’t explain our relationship. I’m trying to figure out where we stand.

Daphne gestures to a black duffle bag on the sofa behind me. “Oh, there’s your Birds gear. Let me know if you want something in a different size or more of something.”

Pulling the bag onto my lap, I unzip and go through it. T-shirts, hoodies, joggers, hats, jerseys—there is a bit of everything. I look to see whose jerseys I have. They are for the mascot, Shifty the Seagull, who wears double zero as his number.

“I figured Shifty was the most diplomatic choice. If you want a player jersey, we can do that.”

I shake my head. “No, Shifty is a good choice. I don’t want to appear to play favorites.”

“But if you were to pick, you’d go with Mac, right?” Daphne’s brown eyes are bright with mischief. And maybe a gleam of matchmaking too.

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