Page 2 of The Cupcake Cottage

“I’m marrying a Dragon this season.”

“Me, too.” Daisy-Mae just wished she didn’t sound so wistful.

“You’re going to have them fighting over you. Save at least one for me, okay?” Violet gripped her head, maneuvering the costume, presumably so she could spy through the eyeholes a bit better. “Do you see any hotties yet?”

“Nope. Not yet.” She could hear some deep voices, but so far nobody had appeared.

“Betcha five bucks you have two Dragon proposals by December.”

“I wish.” Daisy-Mae had come from a long line of women who got married straight out of high school, but she’d never once been proposed to. At least not by anyone who wasn’t falling down drunk or joking.

Daisy-Mae directed Violet along a walkway that ran parallel with the ice before taking several more steps down. She shivered, rethinking her fitted checked blouse, which was tied at her navel. It was cold in the arena despite San Antonio’s early October temperatures.

Hockey players hit the ice, their blades shaving the frozen surface, and Daisy-Mae forgot her chill. Their deep voices filled the air, and she shivered again, but now for a new reason. There was nothing like a herd of hunky, strong, athletic men fighting over a frozen black puck. Or an oblong football. Or riding on the back of an angry bronco.

It didn’t matter the sport. Daisy-Mae had a thing for jocks.

Violet and Daisy-Mae made it down to ice level where the rink’s boards and Plexiglass protected them from errant pucks, giving them a thrilling close-up of the players. The team was skating around the perimeter to warm their muscles, zipping past the women.

Daisy-Mae waved to a few of the men as they glided past. A couple of rookies waved back, unable to block out the attention from the empty stands during today’s closed practice. Daisy-Mae scanned the men, searching for their captain, Maverick Blades. She had a secret, teensy, growing fantasy where he’d spot her in the stands and his pale blue eyes would lock on hers. A private moment would pass between them, and she’d feel as though he truly saw her amid the hubbub as the game roared on. Weeks later he’d casually ask her out for dinner, then an awards banquet where he would get another plaque or golden hockeystick or whatever players won. He’d break his don’t-date-them-twice rule, and they’d become inseparable. Soon after, he would propose to her on center ice after winning a cup. Everyone would be celebrating, but he’d ignore it all, take off his helmet and get down on one knee. His gorgeous eyes with those ridiculous dark lashes would meet hers and he’d say—

“I can’t see!”

“What?”

“I can’t see!” Violet sounded like a toddler about to have a meltdown.

Daisy-Mae quickly adjusted Violet’s head, shifting it back into place. “Better?”

Violet waved at the passing men, continuing through the routine she’d learned during her training. “You’d think the ice would melt these men are so hot.”

Daisy-Mae laughed as she scanned the players. She finally spotted Maverick, her heart skipping faster. She’d almost won spending Valentine’s Day with him last February. That had been a disappointing miss. Not that she’d admit it to anyone. Crushing after a man that was so obviously out of her league? She was probably too old for that, too.

One of the players waved at them each time he passed. Daisy-Mae smiled and waggled her red-tipped fingers. You never knew where your next Mr. Right might be hiding. And the man in the black helmet, practice jersey, and white hockey socks could be the one. He was fast, cute, and likely earned more in a month than Daisy-Mae did in a decade.

“Was that Leo?” Violet asked.

“I don’t know.”

“He used to be a bull rider.”

“Are you crushing on him?”

“Nah, he’s just a friend.”

How had she even had the time to befriend players already?

Possibly-Leo came around again as Violet practiced some of her dance moves, bumping into Daisy-Mae who laughed as she nearly fell into one of the seats.

On the next pass, Maverick closed in behind him.

The player slowed slightly, calling out a “Hello, ladies!” Maverick, his stick held in both hands, used it to gently push the man’s back. Daisy-Mae heard Maverick’s gruff voice telling the man to focus.

Violet turned to Daisy-Mae. “Was that Maverick? What did he say?”

“Focus.”

“I want to know what he said,” she said in a pouty voice.

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