The Wingman (Vancouver Storm, #3)

by Stephanie Archer

Georgia gives him a wry look. “You should hear the things he says about you. When we go for lunch, he’s like, Darcy this, and Darcy that⁠—” “She’s exaggerating,” Hayden interrupts, and the tips of his ears go pink.

We head to the living room, but at the end of the hall, I stop dead in my tracks, jaw dropping. The kitchen island is covered in bouquets of red roses. Multiple bouquets. I’ve never seen so many roses in one place.

When he scores a goal in the second period, I jump to my feet, whooping and cheering. Rory and Alexei skate over to him to celebrate, but he grins through the glass at me. My good luck charm, he mouths, pointing at me.

Darcy sets the flowers on the kitchen table, admiring them. “So pretty. I love getting flowers.” I’m buying her flowers every day for the rest of eternity.

He hoists his bag onto the conveyor to be scanned before his expression turns more serious. “It’s good to see you happy.” “I’m always happy.” “Not like this.”

“It’s so weird,” he says, shaking his head with a puzzled frown, but his eyes sparkle. “They gave it to us for free.” Behind him, the sales associate pretends to look busy but sneaks us glances, smiling to herself. I sigh, smiling. “Hayden.” His hand comes to my lower back and he leads me out of the store. “They were like, please, sir, take this dress. You’re doing us a favor.”

“My mom says that people always remember how you made them feel,” he adds quietly, stroking a thumb over the back of my hand.

“You scored a goal for me.” He rests his arm over my shoulders, holding me against his warm, solid chest, and when he smiles down at me again, his expression softens. “They’re all for you, Darcy.”

“Watching you become who you want to be, Darce, has been the best experience of my life.”