Page 39 of Pucking Sweet

POPPY: Foreign country? We flew from Philly to DC last night. You’re still in the United States.

LUKAS: Yeah, but I’m Canadian. So, no matter where I get arrested, it will still be a foreign country to me.

Shaking my head, I type out my response.

POPPY: In that case, you have my email.

LUKAS: YOU NEVER ANSWER YOUR EMAIL!

I laugh, feeling a lightness in my chest that wasn’t there a few moments ago.

LUKAS: For your information, I was texting to invite you out to a post-game dinner with the D-men. Very private. Very delicious. But now that you’ve just told me to lose your number, I guess you can lose my invite too. Tit for tat.

“Oh, no you don’t,” I mutter, tapping the call button and lifting the phone to my ear.

He picks up on the second ring. “Poppy St. James, are you calling to beg for your invitation back? I do love a little groveling.”

“No, I’m not calling for an invitation. I’m calling tocancelyour reservation.”

“What?” His indignation drips hot and heavy though the phone. “You can’t do that! We’re allowed to go out if we want, Poppy. You can’t just—”

“Now ask mewhy, Lukas,” I say over him. “Ask me why I might have a problem with the bulk of my star players heading out to aprivatedinner tonight of all nights.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“Fuck,” he finally mutters.

“Yeah, fudge is right. I used a lot of favors to get that reservation at Club 7, and Ineedyou there, Lukas. Consider thisan official team event. There will be press outside when we arrive, and select fans have been granted VIP access. You don’t have to stay forever, butplease—I’m begging here, Lukas. Are you happy? I’m actually begging. Just stay for one hour.”

“Fine!” he barks. “God. You know, usually I love the sound of a woman begging, but when you do it, I feel like my insides are being twisted into a knot.”

I can barely contain my relief as my cab pulls up at The Hay-Adams. “Oh my goodness, really? You’ll come out tonight?”

“I said it’s fine. This restaurant has two Michelin stars and a three-month wait, but it’s fine.”

“Thank you, Lukas. I promise, I’ll find a way to make this up to you. Hey, I can be your wingwoman tonight! Maybe we’ll finally get you a real name to put on those contracts.”

“No fucking thanks. I can wheel my own dates, Poppy.”

I’m smiling wide now. “Hmm, would we call them dates?”

He sighs into the phone. “Fine. Hookups.”

“Better.”

“Hanging up now.”

“Not if I hang up first,” I chime, tapping the little red button to end the call.

The moment I do, a valet opens my door. “Good afternoon, ma’am. Welcome to The Hay-Adams.”

I take a deep breath, slipping my phone inside my green Gucci Marmont mini. What’s that expression? Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

“My Poppy girl!”Mom stands from the table the moment she sees me enter the dining room. She holds her arms out wide, welcoming me into her loving embrace like I’m the prodigal daughter returned.

I step into her hug. “Hey, Mom.”

“Why didn’t you wear the Chanel?” she says in my ear. “You always look so pretty in Chanel.”