Page 17 of The Cupcake Cottage

“Tonight?” Maverick asked Daisy-Mae, his eyebrows lifted.

“Nobody goes on a date on Monday night,” she replied, putting her proverbial foot down. A princess had to set some ground rules, after all.

Maverick gave her a slow smile of approval. “Friday?”

“Friday you have an away game.”

Maverick glanced at Louis, who nodded.

“Fine, Saturday? I’m free?”

Again Louis nodded.

“I’ll be all yours—any time you want.”

She extended her proverbial foot for his glass slipper. “Saturday would be lovely.”

“And if you can swing it,” Louis said, “please come back engaged.”

** *

If Maverick was going to do this, he was doing it right.

He hustled up the steps to Daisy-Mae’s small house in the country. He had a rare Saturday off and had spent it working on his place a few miles from hers, slowly getting it in shape. His mom had taken point on the renovation plans, and every time they went into town, she took him down yet another aisle in the hardware store. He was doubting the wisdom of not buying a new home. But the charm and history of the eighty-year-old farmhouse and ranch had won him over in an instant.

Money pit that it was.

He’d probably checked his watch a hundred times that afternoon, worried he’d be late.

On Daisy-Mae’s porch, Maverick straightened his tie, then knocked. The door swung open almost immediately, and he froze. She was drop-dead gorgeous. He’d seen her dolled up for dozens of pageants and events over the years, but this was different. This wasn’t for the stage.

This was for him.

“Are those for me?” She gestured to the tulips he was holding.

He thrust them at her, then calmed himself and cleared his throat. “They are.”

“Come in while I put them in water.”

Maverick stepped inside, allowing his gaze to follow the sway of her hips. She was wearing a cocktail dress that was tricky to describe. It was black. But when she moved, it turned a deepblue where the material curved around her. Her feet were bare, the hem of the dress grazing the carpeted floor.

She grabbed a jar, filling it with water at the sink in a very dated looking kitchen. She swiftly chopped the stems down to size before dropping the flowers into a beautiful arrangement. Her proficiency caused him to wonder how many other men had brought her bouquets. And yet, he knew not many. She’d mostly dated Myles as far as he knew, and his friend wasn’t the type to think of flowers very often. Small gifts, yes, but not so much on the flowers.

She paused over the bouquet, inhaling their scent, eyes closed in appreciation.

Her double-wide mobile home’s exterior was faded from the unrelenting Texas sun, and the yard didn’t look like much. But inside it was a burst of color, feminine touches giving it a warm and cozy vibe. The furniture was mismatched. A china cabinet along one wall sparkled as its small lights made a dazzling display of her pageant crowns and tiaras. Layers of those ribbon sash things winners wore were tacked up against the cabinet’s back wall. The awards intermingled with ancient-looking editions of some children’s classics such asThe Wizard of OzandThe Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. He smiled, catching sight of a tiny carved frog hiding in a tiara. The Sweet County Fair. She’d taken home the princess title that day.

Daisy-Mae had done something most wouldn’t have dared do and had sung Dig a Little Deeper from The Princess and The Frog movie, encouraging the audience to sing along to the chorus of the throaty R&B song. Later he’d given her the frog as a joke and tried to call her Froggy, but she’d given him such a dark look he’d stopped. He only pulled out the nickname on occasions he was feeling particularly suicidal. So not very often.

He could still recall the hurt in her expression when she’d won yet another crown at age seventeen and he’d told her shewas more than a beauty queen. She hadn’t taken it the right way. Not even close. He’d meant that she was more than just her amazing looks and performances. She was bright and witty, but he could see the way the world was narrowing her existence to being nothing more than a pretty face. He feared she’d marry early, settle down, and that would be it. College and travel weren’t even on the horizon any longer, despite the numerous scholarships she’d won and all the plans she’d once made.

But now, with the Dragons, she was using her smarts and natural talents in a big way.

“Ready?” Daisy-Mae asked, stepping into a black pair of stilettos that matched her purse.

“Shall we?” he asked, holding the door for her.

She looked calm and collected, but he noticed her fingers trembling as they clutched her purse.

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