Page 112 of The Wingman

In the aisle, as Streicher lifts his bag into the overhead bin, he gives me anare you fucking kidding me?look, and I put my hands up.

“I don’t want to rush her.” I glance out the window, thinking about the flower deliveries I have booked for every day while I’m out of town. A pleased grin pulls up on my mouth. “We’re just having fun.”

Volkov and Miller exchange a look, and Miller’s eyes glitter.

“I’ll watch for the save the date,” Miller says before turning around and taking a seat.

I grin out the window, imagining it, before I find a picture of Darcy and me from the cast party and set it to my phone background.

When the game packets are passed out, I open mine to an instant photo of that stupid gnome in my hot tub, wearing Darcy’s sunglasses.

Thinking of you - xo Danielis written in her writing.

Volkov eyes the photo. “You two are weird.”

My face hurts, I smile so hard. “I know.”

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

CHAPTER 52

DARCY

I’m doingsomething I absolutely should not be doing—watching game tape and gathering data—when the buzzer for the front door rings on my phone. A smile spreads over my face, and warm, elated feelings spin in my chest, because I think I know what this is.

“Hello?”

“Got a delivery for Darcy Andersen.”

Knew it. “Come on up.”

I buzz him in, and minutes later, the delivery guy knocks on the door.

“Third time this week.” He grins between me and the enormous bouquet of flowers, and my face goes hot.

Those elated feelings join hands and spin in a huge circle before they flop over and sigh. The first bouquet was oranges and yellows, yesterday was different shades of purples, and today is soft, feminine pinks.

“Either someone screwed up big time, or he’s in love.”

I cough out a dry laugh as I sign for the delivery. “He’s not in love.”

We’re just having fun. Hayden Owens doesn’t fall in love.

“Whatever you say.” He gives me a short wave. “See you soon, I’m sure.”

I chuckle, thank him, and close the door before pulling out my phone. Hayden answers my FaceTime call on the second ring.

“Another?” I angle the camera at the giant bouquet on the kitchen counter. “What are you up to?”

“What do you mean?” He grins, lying on his bed, leaning against the headboard in the hotel room.

My fingers trail over one of the delicate petals of a pretty pink rose. “You’re spoiling me.”

“And?”

I blow out a breath, still smiling like a doofus. Hayden’s sent me a bouquet every day since he left for away games. I can buy my own flowers, but I don’t, and I have to admit, being gifted them is different—sweeter and more meaningful.

“And it’s too much.”

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