Chapter 1
Laura
Six Month Earlier…
I was up until 2 AM grading papers, but at 5:45 AM, it was already time to start the day again.
Great. Another day without getting enough sleep, I thought to myself. I had to force myself up.
My apartment was quiet except for the distant sound of early morning traffic. I padded to the kitchen, starting the coffee maker before heading to the bathroom. As I glanced at the mirror, I looked tired. Dark circles under my eyes and hair in desperate need of a trim.
“Must get ready for another thrilling day in academia,” I told my reflection as I brushed my teeth.
By 6:30, fueled by coffee, I was at my dining table, organizing the day’s lecture notes. Just another day in the life of Dr. Laura Chandler, Associate Professor.
I checked my phone, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My best friend, Kaia Bauer, all over social media.
What the hell? I need to tell Kaia.
I started to text her:
“OMG KAIA HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEWS??? CALL ME ASAP!!!”
My phone pinged with a text from Kaia: “Crazy morning. Stop by the shop whenever you can. Need friend support.”
I frowned, typing back quickly: “Are they bothering you?”
Her response was immediate: “It’s media chaos. They’re camping right outside the shop.”
I was buried in midterm papers, but I texted Kaia back that I would go there to see her later today.
I gathered my stuff, cramming them into my bag. As I headed out, I grabbed a stack of papers I’d promised to finish grading by tomorrow. This would be a long day ahead: teaching, meetings, more grading. But my mind kept drifting to Kaia. Media chaos didn’t sound good.
After my first class, I was able to sneak out to check on Kaia. I stopped for coffee, one for me, one for her, before heading to Blooming Good Flowers.
I wasn’t prepared for the scene that greeted me.
There were actual reporters stationed outside her shop. Not just one or two, but at least five, plus what looked like a small group of hockey fans wearing team jerseys, some holding very unflattering signs. I had to push my way through, coffee cups held high.
“Excuse me,” I said firmly, “This is a place of business. Move please.”
One of the men raised his camera as I approached the door. “Are you a friend of Kaia Bauer’s? Do you know anything about her relationship with Daniel Stauder?”
I ignored him completely, and then as I moved toward the door, I saw a snooty blonde woman was leaving Kaia’s shop. Inside, I found Kaia arranging flowers with more force than necessary. She looked up, relief washing over her face.
“Who was that?” I asked, handing her a coffee.
“It’s one of the hockey wives: Lexi Scott… I think she has a thing for Daniel. Wanted to size up the competition.”
“Did you just say she was married? What competition?” I snorted. “Please. That woman wishes she had half your charm… what did she want?”
“Allegedly, she wants flower arrangements for some dinner party she’s hosting. She invited me to come to her house tomorrow, and I’m considering.”
Just then, the door opened again, and this time it was a young man with a press badge asking about Kaia’s relationship with Daniel, and I chased him away.
“This is crazy,” I said as I locked the door.
Kaia said grimly, “Apparently I’m trending. Again. After last night’s game.”
“Well, you’ve officially made it,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “Next step: reality show.”
She didn’t laugh. “It’s not funny, Laura. They’re scaring away customers, asking invasive questions.”
“Have you told Daniel?”
“He knows,” she sighed. “He’s bringing over security. And his PR team is drafting a statement about our relationship to try to take some of the pressure off.”
“A statement? Like a press release about who you’re dating? That’s so...” I searched for the right word.
“Hollywood?” Kaia supplied. “Trust me, I know. But Daniel thinks it might help. Give them something official so they’ll stop digging.”
I took a sip of my coffee, studying my friend. “How are you really doing with all this? It’s a lot to adjust to.”
Kaia’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Honestly? I’m overwhelmed.”
“You sure you’re up to go to Lexi’s house tomorrow? She sounds like a real peach,” I said, leaning against the counter.
“I think she just wants to size me up on her home turf. If I refuse, she wins. She’ll think I’m intimidated.”
“Aren’t you?” I asked gently.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted. “But I need to handle this. Show her I’m not running.” She hesitated, then added, “Will you come with me? As moral support? I could say you’re my assistant.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to pretend to be your flower assistant while you face off with Hockey Queen of the Ice?”
“Please?” Kaia gave me her best pleading look. “I need someone in my corner who isn’t afraid to speak their mind.”
“That’s definitely me,” I agreed with a sigh. “Fine. What time tomorrow?”
Before Kaia could answer, I saw the man himself outside and unlocked the door for him, and he strode in. Daniel Stauder in the flesh, looking every bit the professional athlete he was. Two imposing men in suits, clearly security, positioned themselves outside after he entered.
“Hey,” he said, moving straight to Kaia and dropping a kiss on her forehead. His eyes flickered to me. “Laura, good to see you again.”
“Likewise,” I replied, observing his body language as he approached Kaia, “I hear you’re having some PR issues.”
Daniel cringed. “That’s putting it mildly. The photo of Kaia at the game blew up overnight. Everyone wants to know who the ‘mystery flower girl’ is.”
“I’m hardly a mystery,” Kaia muttered. “I’m a florist who happens to be dating you.”
“To them, that’s fascinating,” Daniel said, his hand coming to rest on her lower back in a gesture that seemed both casual and intimate.
“A ‘regular person’ dating a hockey star. It’s like a movie coming to life.” Kaia said.
“Except the cameras don’t stop when you leave the theater,” I observed.
Daniel nodded, his expression serious. “Which is why we need to control the narrative. My PR team has drafted a statement confirming we’re dating and requesting privacy. Nothing detailed, just enough to satisfy the fans’ curiosity.”
I watched Kaia’s face as she processed this, noting her discomfort. This was the reality of dating someone famous. Your relationship became public property. As her friend, I worried about how she would adapt to this fishbowl existence.
“Will a statement really help?” I asked skeptically.
“It might,” Daniel said. “Right now, the mystery is driving the interest. Once they have confirmation, some of the urgency fades.” He looked at Kaia. “But it’s your call. I won’t release anything without your approval.”
The consideration in his voice surprised me. From everything I’d read about Daniel Stauder, and yes, I’d done my research after Kaia’s Valentine’s Day date with him. He had a reputation as something of a playboy, accustomed to getting his way. Yet here he was, deferring to Kaia’s comfort level.
Maybe there was more to him than the tabloid image suggested.
“Let me see the statement,” Kaia said finally. “If it helps dial down this circus, it’s worth trying.”
Daniel pulled out his phone, showing her a draft his team had prepared. As they discussed the wording, I took the opportunity and I excused myself to the back room to make coffee, giving them some privacy.
When I returned to the front of the shop, Daniel was preparing to leave.
“Laura,” he acknowledged with a nod. “Kaia tells me you’re going with her to the Scott residence tomorrow. Thank you for that… Lexi can be...” he seemed to search for a diplomatic word, “challenging.”
“Well, we’ll try to be on our best behavior,” I promised with a smile, “Wouldn’t want to embarrass the hockey wives’ club.”
Daniel smiled, and he turned to Kaia, his expression softening. “I’ll call you later. The security team will stay until closing.”
After he left, Kaia and I spent another hour strategizing for tomorrow’s visit to the Scott home. By the time I headed back to school, I had a clear mental image of Lexi Scott as a territorial ice queen.
The Scott residence was even more imposing than I’d imagined. As Kaia and I approached the sprawling modern mansion the next day, I whispered, “This place is ridiculous. It’s like a small country.”
“Remember,” Kaia murmured as we reached the door, “you’re my assistant today. Professional, calm, no matter what she says.”
“Professional. Calm. Got it,” I repeated, though I couldn’t help the slight edge of sarcasm. Playing second fiddle wasn’t exactly my forte, but for Kaia, I’d manage.
A uniformed housekeeper answered the door, leading us through a giant foyer into a living room that belonged in an architectural magazine. Not a pillow out of place, not a speck of dust in sight. The kind of sterile perfection that spoke more of display than actual living.
“Wait here, please,” the housekeeper instructed. “Mrs. Scott will be with you shortly.”
As soon as she left, I couldn’t resist a low whistle. “Well, this is cozy. Nothing says ‘home’ like furniture no one actually sits on.”
“Shh,” Kaia admonished, though she was fighting a smile.
Lexi Scott made her entrance moments later, wearing a designer swimsuit cover-up like she’d been interrupted poolside. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a perfect ponytail, not a strand out of place.
Her smile faltered slightly when she saw me. “I don’t recall inviting an entourage.”
“Laura is my assistant for larger projects,” Kaia explained smoothly. “She’ll be helping with the arrangements if you decide to use our services.”
“How... efficient,” Lexi said, her tone suggesting it was anything but.
I maintained what I hoped was a professional demeanor as Kaia discussed design concepts and logistics. Lexi consistently dismissed Kaia’s initial suggestions, clearly enjoying the power dynamic. I bit my tongue, reminding myself I was here as support, not to cause a scene.
Just as Lexi was critiquing another of Kaia’s proposals, we heard the front door open and close.
“Scott?” Lexi called, looking genuinely surprised. “What are you doing home?”
I turned toward the doorway, curious about the man who managed to live with this woman.
He appeared a moment later, and my carefully constructed professional façade nearly cracked. Tom Scott was tall, bearded, with the kind of muscular build that came from functional strength rather than vanity. His dark hair was slightly rumpled, and his eyes, a warm, intelligent brown, registered surprise at finding visitors in his living room.
“Forgot my playbook,” he explained, his gaze moving from Lexi to us. As his eyes met mine, I felt an unexpected jolt.
Oh god, I thought immediately. He’s gorgeous.
“Didn’t know you were having visitors,” he continued, his voice deep and pleasant.
Kaia rose to shake his hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Scott. And this is my friend Laura, who’s helping me today.”
He turned to me then, extending his hand. “Tom Scott. Nice to meet you.”
As our hands connected, I felt an inexplicable warmth. His grip was firm but not aggressive, his hand engulfing mine completely. “Laura Chandler,” I managed. “Likewise.”
“Kaia’s offering floral services for the dinner party,” Lexi explained, a subtle edge to her voice that hadn’t been there before.
“The charity thing next weekend?” Tom asked. “Good. We need all the help we can get. Lexi’s got high standards for these events.”
“The highest,” Lexi agreed, though there was an undercurrent to her tone I couldn’t quite place. “Are you going back to practice soon?”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. The interaction between husband and wife was polite but distant, formal in a way that suggested their relationship existed primarily for public consumption.
Tom’s expression cooled slightly. “Yes. Don’t want to keep the team waiting.” He turned back to us with a more genuine smile. “Nice seeing you, Kaia. Laura.”
As he left, I found myself watching him longer than I should have. The way he moved with athletic grace despite his size. The set of his shoulders as he turned away. The warmth in his voice when he’d said my name.
Stop it, I scolded myself. He’s married. To that woman. Off-limits in every possible way.
In the uncomfortable silence that followed his departure, Lexi abruptly declared our meeting over. The housekeeper reappeared to escort us out, and moments later we found ourselves walking back to my car, the imposing house behind us.
“Well, that was uncomfortable,” I said once we were safely inside the vehicle. “Is it just me, or did the temperature drop about twenty degrees when her husband showed up?”
“It wasn’t just you,” Kaia confirmed. “They didn’t seem... like they like each other too much.”
“With that attitude, she’s probably really hard to live with,” I observed, starting the car. “Though Tom seems nice enough. And hot as hell, in that rugged hockey player way. Too bad he’s not single.”
“Laura!” Kaia admonished, though she was laughing. “He’s married.”
“Not happily, from what we just witnessed,” I pointed out, navigating away from the estate. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to make a move on your boyfriend’s miserable teammate. That would be messy, even for me.”
But as I drove us back toward the flower shop, I couldn’t quite shake the memory of Tom Scott’s warm brown eyes, or the strange, unexpected connection I’d felt when our hands touched. There had been something there, a possibility, that both thrilled and intrigued me.
Too bad he’s married. And that should be the end of the story.
