Page 21 of Power Play Daddies (Miami Icemen #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Mason

The buzzing in my head is relentless, like a pissed-off bee trapped in a jar. My mouth’s dry, my body aches, and my brain’s screaming at me about whatever I drank last night.

Finnegan’s was way too much fun, and we had way too much tequila.

“Never again,” I mutter, dragging myself out of bed.

Lie. It’s always a lie.

The shower’s cold at first, shocking, but it helps. By the time the water’s hot, I’m leaning against the wall, letting it pound on my shoulders.

A few deep breaths more, and I feel halfway human.

Once I’m out, I towel off and check my phone. Yoga’s in about an hour.

Perfect.

I throw on a loose tank and shorts and head downstairs.

The smell hits me before I see her. Vegan pancakes.

Only one person in my life can make those smell like they came straight from a fancy brunch spot.

“Mom?” I call as I walk into the kitchen.

She’s at the stove, flipping pancakes, looking way too put together for this hour. Her blond hair’s tied back in a low ponytail, and she’s got a soft smile on her face that makes me feel like a kid again.

“You’re up early,” I say, walking over to kiss her cheek.

“I could say the same about you,” she teases, sliding a couple of pancakes onto a plate.

“Hangover,” I admit, grabbing a piece of fruit from the bowl on the counter. “Why are you up?”

“I’m heading home today.”

That stops me mid-chew. “Wait, already? I thought you were staying longer.”

She turns, plate in hand, and shrugs. “I want to, but don’t worry—I’ll be back in a few days. Remember, I’m having my kitchen retiled. I just thought it’d be nice to spend a little time with you before I go.”

I grin. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“So you keep telling me,” she says with a chuckle.

“I’m heading to the beach for yoga in a bit. Wanna join me?

She raises a brow, considering. “How about we have breakfast first, then yoga, and after that, you can show me that matcha place you love so much?”

“Deal.” I grab two plates and start setting the table.

As we sit down, she’s watching me, her expression softer than usual.

“What?” I ask, mouth full of pancake.

“I’m just really, really proud of you, Mason.”

I swallow hard. “Yeah?”

She nods. “You guys played so well against the Outlaws. Do you know who you’ll be facing next?”

“Not yet,” I say, reaching for more pancakes. “We’re waiting on the semis to wrap up. Should know by tomorrow.”

Her face lights up. “That’s exciting! How’s training going?”

“Good,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Coach is keeping us sharp. Practices have been intense, but it’s paying off.”

She sets her fork down, her eyes narrowing just a little. “Are you conditioning your body properly? I’ve been reading about ice baths. They’re supposed to be excellent for recovery.”

“Mom,” I groan, but there’s no bite to it.

“What? I’m just saying, you push yourself hard. Recovery’s important.”

“I know, I know.” I shake my head, grinning. “How about breakfast first, then we can talk ice baths?”

“Okay,” she says with a laugh.

We eat, chatting about random things—my schedule, her garden, some movie she watched on the plane. By the time we finish, I’m feeling a lot more awake.

The beach is quiet, the sun just starting to peek over the horizon. The air’s crisp, the sand cool beneath my feet.

“Wow,” Mom says, looking around. “This is beautiful.”

“It’s why I come here,” I tell her, spreading out a mat.

She sets hers down beside me, copying my movements as I stretch out.

“Okay, yoga master,” she teases. “What’s first?”

I snort. “Master? Hardly. Let’s start with some sun salutations. Just follow my lead.”

She does, and to her credit, she’s not bad. We move through the poses, her laughter bubbling up every time she wobbles.

“This is harder than it looks,” she says, trying to hold Warrior Two.

“Yeah, but you’re killing it,” I say, adjusting her arm.

She laughs. “Flattery won’t make me any better.”

“Sure it will.”

We keep going, the flow slow and easy, more about the moment than the workout.

After a while, we’re both lying on our mats, staring up at the sky.

“I’m glad we did this,” she says softly.

“Me too,” I reply, glancing over at her.

There’s a pause, comfortable and warm, before she turns her head to look at me.

“You’re doing amazing, Mason. Really.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Just don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay?”

I grin. “I won’t. Promise.”

“Good.” She sits up, stretching her arms above her head. “Now, about that matcha place…”

I laugh, pushing myself to my feet. “You’re gonna love it.”

And as we head off the beach, I realize just how much I’m gonna miss her when she leaves.

I always do.

The matcha place is buzzing with the kind of low-key Miami vibe I love. Neon green walls, hanging plants, the faint smell of vanilla and tea in the air.

Mom’s beside me at the counter, already chatting up the barista like they’re old friends.

“My son, Mason Hayes,” she says, gesturing at me with pride practically radiating off her. “He played in that game last night. Did you catch it?”

The barista, a college kid with a nose ring and purple hair, glances at me, then back at her. “Uh, no, ma’am. I don’t watch hockey.”

Mom gasps like he just insulted my entire career. “You’re missing out! The Mississippi Outlaws had nothing on them. Mason’s team crushed it.”

“Mom,” I say, nudging her lightly, “leave the poor guy alone. He’s just trying to make tea.”

She waves me off. “People need to know these things, Mason. You’re a star.”

I roll my eyes but let her go on. She orders some fancy matcha latte, while I stick with a plain iced one today.

While we wait, she keeps gushing, and I just stand there, nodding along like the dutiful son I am.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. When I see Daisy’s name light up the screen, a stupid grin spreads across my face.

“Mom, I gotta take this,” I say, stepping outside. “Hey, baby,” I answer, voice dropping just a little.

“Hey,” Daisy says, her tone soft, almost teasing. “You busy today?”

I glance back through the window. Mom’s still chatting with the barista. “I’m taking my mom shopping this morning, but I’m free by four. What’s up?”

“Perfect,” she says, her voice smooth and just the right amount of flirty. “Can you come to my place then?”

“Of course,” I say, heat pooling low in my stomach at the thought. The last time I was there, things got… intense. If she’s calling, she probably wants a repeat. Hell, I definitely do.

“Do you remember how to get here?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

She pauses, and I swear I can hear her smiling. “Good. See you later.”

“See you.” I hang up, exhaling slowly before heading back inside.

Mom’s holding her drink, her expression instantly shifting to suspicious as I approach.

“Who was that?” she asks, her eyes narrowing just slightly.

“None of your business,” I say with a grin, pulling out my wallet to pay.

She snorts. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

We step outside, heading to the car, and I can feel her gearing up.

“Mason,” she starts, that tone that says she’s about to launch into full mom mode, “your career is so important right now. You’re at the top of your game. The last thing you need is some puck bunny distracting you.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “It’s not like that, Mom.”

She gives me a look. “Really? Because I’ve seen you smile like that.”

I stop walking, turning to face her. “Sandra Hayes, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She raises a brow, but I’m smiling as I say it. “When you meet her, you’ll understand.”

Her expression softens, surprise flickering across her face. “You want me to meet her?”

“Maybe,” I admit, surprising myself with how much I actually mean it.

She doesn’t push, which is a miracle, and we get in the car.

The day’s a blur of shopping. Mom’s in her element, dragging me from store to store, trying on dresses, shoes, and God knows what else. I’m more than happy to spoil her, though. She deserves it.

By the time we hit the jewelry shop, I’m thinking about Daisy again.

“What about this one?” Mom asks, holding up a necklace.

“It’s nice,” I say distractedly, my eyes catching on something in the display case.

An anklet. Delicate, silver, with tiny charms. Simple but sexy.

“Hold on,” I say, signaling the jeweler. I point to the anklet, and they bring it out for me to inspect. “Can you engrave something on this?”

“Sure,” the jeweler says.

“Daisies for Daisy,” I tell them. They would look gorgeous on her. Daisies for my Daisy.

Mom gives me a look. “What are you up to now?”

“Nothing,” I say, smirking. “Just a gift.”

“For who?”

“You’ll see,” I say, handing over my card to pay. “Can you expedite it? I need it today.”

The jeweler nods, promising to have it ready in a couple of hours. Good. I want that dangling on her leg when I fuck her later today.

The thought makes me feel flustered, but luckily, no one notices.

When we finally get home, Mom’s exhausted but happy.

“Thanks for today, Mason,” she says, pulling me into a hug.

“Anytime, Mom.”

She leaves for the airport around three, and I head straight for the jeweler’s to pick up the gift.

My heart’s racing. Not from nerves, just pure anticipation. Daisy Love is waiting, and I don’t plan on keeping her waiting long.