Page 28 of Like A Daydream
“Harper slow down!” a laughing voice says from his right. Andrew turns to see Harper dragging the woman from before behind her.
They practically skid to a halt in front of Andrew, and he grins as he lets his eyes wander over Danielle. She’s in dark wash skinny jeans, and a short-sleeved linen button up that hangs off her shoulder. Her hair is in a messy bun, and she looks as flustered as he’s starting to feel.
“You,” she says.
“Me,” he confirms.
“Aunt D,” Harper says, “this man wants coffee and I told him you make the best.”
“Harper, you know you aren’t supposed to talk to strangers,” Danielle says, sternly, glancing up at Andrew with annoyance in her eyes.
“He’s not astranger, Aunt D,” Harper says, “he’s Andy, and he’s in a secret club with me. His dog is namedRoscoe.”
“That explains so much,” Danielle says, ruffling Harper’s hair. “How about you go finish your muffin, and I’ll take his order?”
“Okay!” she says, cheerfully. She looks up at Andrew. “You can sit at my table. Roscoe can come, too.”
Before he can respond, she bounces away, and Roscoe moves to follow her. Andrew drops his leash so he can, and the dog lays underneath the table at Harper’s feet as she takes a massive bite of her muffin.
“A secret club?” Danielle asks, moving behind the counter.
“My dog is named after a character fromDukes of Hazzard,” Andrew says with a shrug, “she guessed it and told me that no one watches that show.”
“You might just be her hero,” Danielle says, voice quiet, a faraway look in her eyes, “it’s her favorite show. What can I get for you?”
“An iced vanilla latte with oat milk would be great,” he says, “and then two of the Danishes.”
“I thought hockey types don’t eat sugar,” Danielle says, then she slaps a hand over her mouth, as if she could take back the words.
His heart sinks. She knows who he is, and that means her bias against him is already in place.
This whole trip here was pointless.
“Not during the off season,” he shrugs, playing casual even though it feels like a little bit of the world just dropped out from under his feet. He pulls his wallet out and taking his card from one of the slots.
“No intense diet restrictions then?” she asks, raising a brow.
“We’re loose cannons during the off season.” He says, handing the card to her.
“Loose cannon, huh?” she asks. “Something tells me you don’t even know what that means.”
“Want to bed?” he asks, dropping his voice an octave and hoping he sounds flirty. Then he realizes what he said, and his eyes widen. “Bet! Bet, I meant bet, I swear.”
“You want to take me to bed, Fisher?” she asks, raising a brow. “Little early for that, don’t you think?”
This girl can play the game.
“You should at least get me dinner, first.”
“One of the Danishes is for you.”
“That doesn’t count,” she says, “not even close. I can’t be bought with puff pastry.”
“Who said anything about buying you?” he asks, bending over and leaning his elbows on the counter to get a better look at her. “I’d drive you so crazy, you’d give in to me for free.”
“What makes you so sure?”
He lowers his voice again, meets her eyes, leans even closer. “Years of making women scream does things to a man’s confidence.”
