Page 13 of Power Play Daddies (Miami Icemen #1)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Daisy

The sand burns a little under my feet, but it’s worth it.

The beach stretches out, the waves rolling lazily against the shore, the sun bright enough to sting my eyes. Kieran’s crouched in front of me, camera in hand, the lens pointed straight at me.

“Look natural,” he says, like I know what that even means.

I laugh, brushing my hair back. “I’m standing on sand. What’s natural about this?”

“Daisy,” he groans, tilting the camera slightly, “just stop thinking and smile.”

“Easier said than done when you’re aiming that thing like a sniper.”

He lowers the camera, smirking. “You’re really bad at this.”

“I’m not a model, Kieran.”

“You could’ve fooled me.” He raises the camera again. “Okay, serious face. Think… mystery.”

“Mystery?” I snort. “What does that even?—”

“Perfect,” he says, snapping the picture before I can finish.

I roll my eyes but let him keep going. He’s in his element, moving like he’s part of the sand and sea. It’s kind of hot, watching him so focused.

“All right, one more,” he says, motioning for me to step closer to the water.

“Don’t get mad if I fall in,” I warn, but I do it anyway.

“You’d still look good,” he mutters, mostly to himself, and I swear I blush.

After a few more shots, he lowers the camera and gives me one of those rare, soft smiles. “You’re gorgeous.”

I swallow, pretending the sun’s the reason I feel warm all over. “You’re just saying that because you’re looking through a fancy lens.”

“No, I’m saying it because it’s true.” Before I can respond, he grabs my hand, tugging me toward the boardwalk. “C’mon. We’re getting you a swimsuit.”

The store smells like sunscreen and new fabric, and the walls are lined with every color and pattern you can imagine. I glance around, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“Pick one,” Kieran says, leaning against a rack.

I shake my head. “You can’t just pick a swimsuit like you’re choosing cereal.”

“Why not? Just grab one that’s your size and looks good.”

“Wow. You’re really simplifying this.”

He grins. “You’re overthinking it.”

I grab a black bikini with tiny gold accents and hold it up. “What about this?”

His eyes darken just slightly, and he nods. “That’ll do.”

“You didn’t even look at it properly.”

“Daisy, trust me, I looked.”

I duck into the fitting room, the fabric soft against my skin as I try it on. It’s a little more revealing than I’m used to, but the way it fits… yeah, it’s good.

When I step out, his gaze slowly sweeps over me.

“Jesus,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “You’re gonna kill me.”

I laugh, trying to act normal even though my stomach flips at the way he looks at me. “It’s not that serious.”

“It is.” He pulls out his wallet without hesitation. “We’re getting it.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“Not arguing about this.” He hands his card to the cashier, cutting me off.

I roll my eyes but let him win this one. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re spoiled now,” he says with a wink.

Back at the beach, the sun’s higher, the sand even hotter. I’m sitting on a towel, the water sparkling in front of me, watching as Kieran talks to a few of his teammates. They’re loud, laughing, and shoving each other, the kind of easy camaraderie I’ve never really been part of.

Ford catches a wave, his board cutting through the water like a knife, and I lift my phone, snapping a picture. He looks like he was born to do this, all control and power.

“Taking pictures for your scrapbook?” Kieran asks, dropping down beside me.

“For Instagram,” I tease.

He leans closer, his arm brushing mine. “You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

I glance at him, trying not to smile too wide. “You’ve mentioned it.”

Before he can say anything else, his phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, his expression shifting.

“Rare camera seller,” he says, more to himself than me.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been trying to track this guy down for months. He’s got a vintage Leica I’ve been dying to get my hands on.”

I nod, not entirely sure what that means, but understanding enough. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

I wave him off. “Kieran, I’m having the time of my life. I can handle myself.”

He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. “Be right back.”

I watch him jog off, his broad shoulders disappearing into the crowd. The guys are still surfing, and a few more have started a volleyball game nearby. I snap a picture of them, laughing as one of them trips over his own feet.

Logan’s name pops up on my screen, and I send him the picture with a string of emojis. He replies almost instantly: Wet emojis. Classic.

I’m still laughing when someone flops down beside me, a shadow blocking the sun.

“Daisy.”

I freeze, the voice familiar and unwelcome. Turning my head, I’m met with Mason’s dark brown eyes.

“What do you want?” I ask, my tone sharper than I intended.

He holds up two ice cream bars, offering me one. “Do you want one?”

I stand, brushing the sand off my thighs. “I’m good.”

“Daisy—”

I don’t let him finish. Walking toward the water, I try to shake off the anger bubbling in my chest.

The fucking audacity of him, acting like he can just sit down and talk to me after the conversation I overheard between him and Beau.

The waves lap at my feet, cool and calming. I breathe in the salty air, trying to push Mason from my mind.

The beach is still loud, still bright, but for a moment, it’s just me and the water.

I wade through the warm ocean water, my fingers skimming the surface. The beach buzzes with activity—kids screaming, music blasting from a nearby group, waves crashing softly against the shore.

It’s all vibrant, alive. But my head’s too busy replaying that stupid locker room conversation to enjoy any of it.

Then I bump into someone—hard.

“Oh!” I take a step back, wiping the saltwater from my eyes. My stomach flips when I see who it is.

Of course, it’s Mason.

“Are you fucking following me?”

His dark eyes lock on mine, a hint of confusion creasing his face. “Daisy?”

I cross my arms. “Before you even ask, the answer is no. I’m not a fucking plaything, okay?”

His brows shoot up, and he runs a hand through his tousled black hair. For a second, my gaze drops, catching a faint bruise on his knuckles.

“Did I do something to offend you?” His voice is calm, careful. “All I did was offer you a treat earlier.”

I scoff. “A treat? Like I’m a goddamn pet. God, you’re unbelievable.” I turn to wade away, ready to put as much distance as possible between us.

“Wait.” His hand wraps around my wrist, stopping me mid-step. His grip is firm but not rough. I glance back, and his jaw ticks, his expression searching.

“Talk to me, D,” he says, voice low. “What am I being punished for?”

There’s a lump rising in my throat, but I push it down. “You know I heard you and Beau in the locker room, right?”

He drops my hand like it’s burned him, taking a small step back. “Wow. Judgmental much?” His tone is sharper now, almost defensive.

“Judgmental?” I glare at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I thought we already talked about all this,” he says, shaking his head. “Wow.”

He turns, water splashing around him as he starts walking away. My stomach knots. Why the hell is he pissed? I’m the one with every right to be mad.

“Mason!” I call out.

He stops, glancing over his shoulder. “What?”

I storm toward him, the water sloshing around my thighs. “You think I should be apologizing? For hearing you and your friend discuss how bad I was in bed?

He spins around, holding up his hands. “Whoa, whoa. Baby, what the hell are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” I snap, heat flushing my cheeks. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you. To Beau. And this is how you talk about me? Like I’m, what? A fucking game?”

He stares at me, his expression shifting from frustration to something softer. “Daisy, you’re not making any sense.” His voice drops, then he says. “You… you slept with Beau?”

Now I’m the one confused. “I thought you knew that.”

“No,” he says slowly, dragging the word out. “I didn’t know that.”

There’s a long pause, the sounds of the beach fading as the weight of his words sinks in.

“The day in the locker room,” Mason says carefully, “Blaze and I were talking about Avery. She invited both of us to some… sex party. I already told you we’ve shared women before, remember?”

My stomach twists. “That was… Beau?”

He nods. “Yeah. Blaze turned her down, and so did I. I wasn’t interested, D. I kinda like someone else.”

My breath catches. “So you guys… you weren’t talking about me?”

Mason steps closer, his gaze steady. “No, honey. No.”

A breath escapes me, one I didn’t even realize I was holding. My chest feels lighter, the knot loosening.

They hadn’t been talking about me at all.

“So,” I hesitate, “why does Beau hate me so much? Is it because I’m a journalist?”

Mason’s lips twitch, almost like he wants to smile but doesn’t. “Beau doesn’t like journalists much. But that’s not about you.”

“Why?” I ask, taking a step closer, my fingers brushing against his hand. His skin is rough, callused.

He hesitates, opening his mouth like he’s about to say something. But then Kieran’s voice cuts through the air, calling me from the shore.

“Thanks,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the waves. “But I’ve gotta go.”

Mason nods, his eyes following me as I turn and start swimming back to the shore.

I’m not the same woman who waded into the water a few moments ago.

Something’s shifted.