Page 27 of Honkers Under the Holly

“Let’s not push our luck.” Mac watched as our goose waddled back to his bushes, clearly planning his next masterpiece. “Though I have a feeling the suite could use his decorating expertise. Christmas at the game isn’t exactly festive.”

I leaned into him, watching Sir Honksalot work. Sometimes the best plans are the ones you never meant to make. And sometimes the best love stories start with a little chaos.

Even if that chaos currently involved explaining to our goose why he couldn’t wear the Christmas tree star as a hat.

The owner’s suite at Bandits Stadium was about as rich and luxurious as I’d expected. Although, Mac was right and there was only the bare minimum of holiday decorations. A wreath on the door and some twinkle lights. Boring. Mac squeezed my hand as Violet Wolfner, the Bandits’ owner, waved us over.

“The dynamic duo ala Tommy Frayzer.” She air-kissed my cheeks. “I have to tell you, that Illustrated Sports shoot was genius. Tommy’s Q score is through the roof.”

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see the Bandits warming up on the field. Tommy was easy to spot, playing to the crowd as always. The Denver Mustangs’ defense looked considerably less festive about the whole thing.

“Mac,” Violet turned to him, “the way you’ve handled Tommy’s image transformation is impressive. From karaoke disaster to America’s sweetheart in two months? That takes skill.”

“Sara Jayne deserves the credit,” Mac said, his hand warm on my lower back. “She’s the one who understood how to make Tommy relatable.”

“By using a goose as a social media influencer?” Violet laughed. “Speaking of which, my granddaughter insisted we put one of those decorator geese on our porch. Apparently it’s the must-have holiday accessory this year. Who knew?”

I bit back a smile, thinking of Sir Honksalot in his heated doghouse, probably reorganizing his tinsel collection. If they only knew he’d accidentally started L.A.’s hottest holiday decorating trend. Every house on Magda’s block had a porch goose, and it appeared to have spread from there. Maybe they’dkeep them out after the holidays and dress them up for all the seasons? Or would that be weird? I kind of liked the idea. We should send one to Mac’s parents after the new year for their new house.

“Now then,” Violet gestured to the catering spread, “help yourselves. And Mac? During a lull in the game, I’d like to discuss representation for some of our other players. They’ve got some shit agents, and I’ve encouraged a few of them to talk to you.”

Mac’s eyes widened slightly. This was huge—the opportunity he’d been working toward for years. “Yes, ma’am. That would be great.”

She nodded and turned back to me, taking my arm in hers and walking us both toward the buffet. “Now, I’d like to know just who dresses you. I have the hardest time finding anything in a size sixteen or eighteen in L.A. and I refuse to kowtow to the diet industry and culture. Heroine chic might be chronic, but my ass is iconic.”

Oh, I think Crown of Curves was about to get a new fan, and maybe a tagline.

The game itself was a blur of excitement. Tommy played like a man possessed, breaking through the Mustangs’ defense like they were standing still. When he scored the winning touchdown with seconds left on the clock, the suite erupted in cheers.

I screamed and wrapped Mac in an enormous hug, but then jumped back, catching myself from doing more and giving him a big kiss. “That’s our Tommy!”

Violet’s knowing look made me wonder if she saw more than she let on.

Later we all went out to Club Midnight, where they were having an all night long Christmas celebration. While I was on Tommy’s arm, I watched Mac chatting with some players who’dapproached him about representation. He caught my eye across the room and smiled that smile that still made my knees weak.

“You two are terrible at hiding it, you know,” Tommy said, handing me a glass of champagne with little bobbing Santa candies floating around in the bubbles.

“Hiding what?”

“The fact that you’re stupid in love with each other.” He clinked his glass against mine. “Don’t worry, though. The rest of the world is having too much fun with our ‘romance’ to notice.”

He grinned. “Speaking of which, want to dance with your fake fiancé? Give the paparazzi outside something to talk about?”

I laughed, letting him pull me onto the dance floor. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Hey, my best friend is finally happy. I’m playing the best football of my career, and there’s a decorative goose wearing my jersey number on Violet Bidwill Wolfner’s front porch. Life is good.”

It was. Just as long as nobody found out all of our not so little secrets.

I found Mac in a quiet corner in the VIP section, his expression adorably confused as he scrolled through his phone.

“Hey you,” I said, sliding next to him. “Everything okay?”

“I think I might have a problem.” He showed me his phone. “Three different players just asked me about getting them a goose. I mean, Sir Honksalot is one of a kind, and I’m not sure I’m equipped to handle an entire roster of clients with waterfowl. The fountain budget alone would be?—”

I burst out laughing, drawing curious looks from nearby partygoers. “Mac,Liebling, they’re talking about porch geese. The decorative ones?”

“The what now?”

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