by Sara Desai
Silence. And then, “What time is the game? Your details were incomplete.”
“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said. “And feel free to give me a kiss when I get there because I got such great seats, but do be gentle. I still haven’t recovered from falling off your roof.”
“I won’t,” she said firmly.
“You won’t kiss me?” He leaned back in his chair, thoroughly enjoying the conversation. “Or you won’t be gentle? I’m okay with rough if that’s your thing.”
Daisy snorted into the phone. “I’m not talking about sex.”
“We should talk about sex after what happened the other day.” He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Alone in his bed at night, he’d imagined the soft press of her body against him, the warmth of her skin, the softness of her hair, her moan when he’d touched her breasts . . . God, she had beautiful breasts.
“It would have been a mistake,” she said, without hesitation. “We can’t get intimate and have a fake relationship. It doesn’t make sense. That’s why I made the rules.”
“So why do I want to kiss you right now?” He knew just how to throw her off her game, and her sharp intake of breath told him his words had hit their mark. He liked how his strong, intelligent fake fiancée got all flustered when he mentioned anything to do with sex. Daisy’s rules made her feel safe and secure. But sometimes you could have the most fun when the rules were broken.
“Because you want to practice for the kiss cam and win free stuff at the game?” she responded after some hesitation.
“Because I like kissing you, Daisy.”
Silence. He could almost see her fingers drumming on her desk.
“Liam?”
His pulse kicked up a notch and he held his breath, hoping she would tell him she liked kissing him, too. “Yes?”
“What did you mean by ‘fan gear’?”
• 21 •
LIAM was expecting Daisy to be surprised when he arrived at her office building to pick her up after work. After all, not everyone owned virtually every piece of Sharks fan gear ever made, and he’d put a lot of thought and care into which pieces he wore tonight. He was not, however, expecting her to turn and run away.
“Where are you going?”
“No. Stay back.” She reached behind her for the building door. “You’re one of them.”
“One of whom?”
“A crazy fan.”
“You don’t like my Sharks jersey?” He smoothed a hand over his blue fan jersey, one of dozens he’d collected over the years. “Or is it the hat?” He’d put the foam rubber shark head hat on before he met her so she’d get a good look at its teeth. “I brought a hat for you, too.”
Plastered against the glass door, she shook her head. “I’m not wearing a two-foot rubber shark on my head.”
Liam felt a sharp stab of disappointment. “What’s the point in going if you aren’t going to support the team?”
“I can support the team without humiliating myself.”
Worried that she might make a run for it across the busy street, Liam approached her slowly and carefully, holding out the gear he’d brought for her to wear in his outstretched hand.
“I’m not a stray dog, Liam,” she snapped. “You don’t have to creep over to me. I won’t bite.” Her gaze flicked to his head. “Or maybe I will if you expect me to wear something like that.”
“Yours isn’t the same.” He offered her a small felt hat with a shark fin on top, felt eyes, and long tassels made of white felt for shark teeth. “I thought the rubber might be too much, so I brought you something less aggressive.”
She approached cautiously, like he was about to attack her with his foam shark head. “Give it to me.”
Liam handed it over and she gave a soft “humph” as she inspected the hat. “It’s okay. Actually, it’s kind of cute.”
“Like you.”
Her begrudging smile was all the encouragement he needed. “I brought you a jersey, too.” He handed her a smaller version of the jersey he was wearing. “You’d feel out of place if you weren’t wearing one. Sharks fans rule.” He pumped his fist in the air and shouted, “Go Sharks!”
“Go Sharks!” a passing dude shouted back. “Enjoy the game tonight!”
“Fine.” Daisy sighed. “I’ll wear the hat and jersey. Anything else?”
“Face paint?”
“No.”
“Body paint? You’d have to be naked but I could use a darker blue on areas you’d prefer to keep private.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I also have flags, banners, pom-poms, blue wigs, a full-size shark costume, giant cardboard teeth, shark plushies, and a few blow-up sharks.”
She twisted her lips to the side, considering. “Let’s see the blow-up sharks.”
He led her to the SUV he’d borrowed from James and lifted the hatch to show her his stash of fan gear.
“This is insane,” Daisy said. “It’s like a souvenir shop. Do you sell it out of the back of your vehicle at the game?”
Liam’s chest swelled with pride. “No, this is all mine. I got most of it when they made the Stanley Cup finals in 2016. I wore the full suit in their last game against Pittsburgh.” He lifted the costume. “Come to think of it, I never got it washed . . .”
“I’ll take one of these blow-up sharks.” She pulled one from the pile. “And maybe a rally towel.” Still not smiling, she grabbed a shark plushie. “I want him, too.”
“That will be $22.95.” He held out a hand, and this time she laughed, the full, delightful belly chuckle he remembered from the past.
“How about I buy you dinner when we get to the Shark Tank instead?” she offered.
“I don’t believe that’s on our dating plan, Ms. Patel.” He pulled out his phone. “Let me see . . . Hmm. It appears that we’ve already crossed off the dinner option.”
Daisy shrugged. “If you don’t like their roast beef sandwiches . . .”
“With horseradish?”
“And beer.”
Liam stroked his chin as if considering. “Double order of fries?”
“Each.”
“And for dessert?” he asked.
“Fried Oreos, of course.”
He tucked away his phone. “For you, I’m willing to go ‘off plan.’”
* * *
• • •
AFTER two sandwiches, one plate of nachos, four cups of beer—three for Daisy and only one for Liam since he was driving—one giant popcorn, two candy bars, a bag of fried Oreos, and a 2–1 score as they came up to halftime, Liam couldn’t believe he was out with the same woman who had run away from him earlier that day.
“Fear the Fin!” Daisy screamed and shot out of her seat to wave her shark plushie. “Go Sharks!”
“I thought you didn’t particularly care for hockey.” He nodded an apology to the couple behind them, who seemed to be more amused than irritated by Daisy’s enthusiasm. “I thought you only watched it to keep your dad company.”
“It’s different live.” She shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth. “Also, I’ve had a lot to drink.” Her eyes widened as she stared at the ice. “No. Not Marner!” She slapped her hand on her head as Marner played the puck between his legs and scored with a shot from the slot to tie it at 2–2.
“I thought we could use this time to ask questions so we could get to know each other,” he suggested, knowing full well she’d shoot him down. At least she wouldn’t be able to accuse him of not sticking to the plan. And really, was there any better way to truly get to know a person than to get them drunk at a hockey game?
“Shh.” She slapped his shoulder. “Don’t distract me.”
There was very little that could tear Liam’s attention away from a game, but watching Daisy was far more entertaining than watching the Sharks domina
te the Maple Leafs. When halftime finally came, he was almost disappointed.
“Do you want to get something else to eat?” he offered.
“No. There’s too much going on.” She bounced in her seat to the party music, watching the Zamboni sweep the ice and the Sharks mascot shaking fins in the crowd.
“Anything you want to ask?” he persisted. “This is your chance to get to know the real me. Penetrating questions. Childhood trauma. Friends. Family. Stories from the three years I spent as a nomad biker running errands for outlaw motorcycle gangs and hiding from the law . . .”
That got her attention. “For real?”
“I was twenty-one and had no job and no college education when I left San Francisco. I had to earn money to live. Also, I was pretty messed up at the time.”
She poured the last of their Milk Duds in her mouth. “So you turned to crime?”
“It paid well. Most of the bikers were good guys. I’d run errands and they’d give me a place to sleep, something to eat, a little company . . .” He trailed off when her eyes widened. Daisy probably didn’t need to know all the details of his wildest days, or how lonely life on the road could be. “There’s nothing like being out on a bike. You’re part of the world instead watching it go by. The wind in your hair, the sun on your face, the open road in front of you . . . It takes your breath away.”
Her lips curved a little, her brown eyes dreamy. “I’d like to try it someday.”
Not something he’d ever expected Daisy to say, but he wasn’t going to waste an opportunity to take her out on his bike. “It’s still on the plan if you change your mind.”
“We should go find my relatives,” Daisy said abruptly, shaking herself as if caught in a daydream. “I got their seat numbers from one of my cousins who works here as a security guard. We can try to bump into him, too. The only things you need to remember about Taara Auntie are: one, don’t eat any food she gives you because she’s a terrible cook; and two, praise her boys.”
Liam chuckled as they made their way up the steps. “Praise the food; don’t eat the boys. Got it.”
They walked through the crowd to the food service area outside the section where her aunt was seated. It only took a few minutes of searching before Daisy began to wave. Liam was about to comment on her incredible eyesight, when he noticed two large and two small people in full foam shark suits pushing their way through the crowd.
“I knew I should have worn my suit,” he grumbled.
Daisy greeted her relatives with awkward hugs and kisses to their faces, which were visible in the cutouts in the shark costume undersides. Wearing only his jersey, his foam shark head hat, and his fan towel around his neck, Liam felt positively underdressed.
“This is my fiancé, Liam,” Daisy said after introducing everyone without taking into account the thickness of Liam’s shark head hat. As a result, he missed the boys’ names and mentally labeled them Baby Shark #1 and Baby Shark #2.
“So this is the boy.” Taara made no effort to hide her perusal, her gaze lingering on Liam’s hat. “At least he supports the right team.”
Score! Liam fought back the urge to pump a fist at what clearly was a victory in his quest for acceptance.
Taara turned her attention back to Daisy. “Every week I see you. Every week you try my new fusion food. And you told Salena first? I thought I was your favorite auntie.”
Emotional manipulation. Liam knew all about it. Every CEO with a failed start-up pitch had a sad story to tell, and he’d quickly learned to harden his heart.
“It was an accident,” Daisy said. “If she hadn’t bumped into me, of course I would have told you first. You are definitely my favorite auntie. Who else could make me a special engagement celebration surprise?”
Taara’s eyes widened in delight. The baby sharks visibly grimaced. Liam sidestepped over to them and slipped a twenty-dollar bill into each boy’s hand. “Go buy yourselves something to eat,” he whispered.
With a quick, questioning look to their dad, they waddled away, their steps restricted by their shark fin tails.
“If I’d known we’d be meeting you, I would have made something special.” Taara handed Liam a clear plastic container filled with brown goo. “But lucky for you, I made extra of our halftime treat. I took all the special foods you can get here—hot dogs, sandwiches, pizza, corn dogs, chocolate, popcorn, Hawaiian barbecue, Dole Whip, nachos—blended them all together, sprinkled on a little cayenne for spice, and some garam masala, and surprise! Shark Stew! You don’t have to waste time lining up or deciding what to eat and miss the halftime fun. You can have it all.”
Daisy snatched the container out of Liam’s hand. “That’s so kind, Auntie-ji, but we’ve already eaten.”
“I still have room. I want to try it.” Liam took the container and lifted the lid. No noxious smells or odors were released. He took the spoon Taara offered him and had a small sip. Utterly vile. It reminded him of his days as a biker when they would drink every night until they threw up, and then drank some more. Still, Taara looked so hopeful, he didn’t want to disappoint. Gritting his teeth, he finished everything in the container, realizing only when he was done that the boys had returned and everyone was staring at him in silence. Liam wasn’t sure if that was bad or good. He offered the empty container to Taara. “If we hadn’t already polished off a tray of food, I would ask for seconds.”
“My God.” Her husband shook his head in wonder. “He ate it.”
“He likes it. He really likes it!” Taara grabbed Liam’s cheeks and gave them a squeeze. “What a nice boy. And such good taste in food . . .”
“Well, weren’t you just the fabulous fiancé,” Daisy said after Taara and her family returned to their seats. “Am I going to have to take you to the hospital to have your stomach pumped?”
“It was a hard life on the road.” Liam cleared a path through the bleachers to their seats. “I had to eat things much worse than that.”
“What’s going on down there?” Daisy pointed to a food service worker holding two pizzas at the bottom of the stairwell. He was talking with the hockey cam operator and pointing in their general direction.
Liam’s pulse kicked up a notch and he pulled down his shark head hat. “They’re going to give away free pizzas. We have to draw their attention.”
“How?”
“Jump up and down. Shout. Scream. Dance so the camera sees us. Wave your rally towel and your blow-up shark.”
Daisy shrank back in her seat. “I can’t dance in the seats. People will see us.”
He stared at her, incredulous. “You didn’t care five minutes ago when you were screaming at Noesen to get the lead out. And I know you have the moves. You are a dancing queen.”
“I just don’t want to embarrass myself.”
Liam wondered how screaming “Fear the Fin” while wearing a shark hat and waving a blow-up shark in the air could be less embarrassing than dancing in front of the seat, but then he’d never understood the inner workings of the female mind.
“I’ll take the hit. I’ll dance so badly, no one will be looking at you.” He jumped up, waving his rally towel in the air as he danced the way her father had danced in front of his television every time the Sharks had scored a goal. “Pizza!” he yelled. “Go Sharks!”
“You’re on the big screen!” Daisy jumped up beside him and danced his same crazy dance, waving her shark in the air and screaming, “Fear the fin!” The camera operator swung his camera in their direction, and suddenly they were immortalized on screen in a heart-shaped circle of lights with “Winner” flashing above them.
“We won! We won!” Daisy jumped up and down and threw her arms around Liam, nearly knocking him over as she pressed her lips to his in a delighted kiss.
Her lips were soft and warm and sweet with chocolate. The shock of them short-circuited his brain and for a moment he couldn’t bre
athe. And then he was pressing her lips apart, hungry for her, desperate for more.
She softened against him, sighed. He braced himself for her to retreat, but instead, she tightened her arms around him and kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his as she explored his mouth.
“Pizza!”
She pulled away, leaving him floundering, his brain struggling to understand why someone was shoving a box in his face when all he wanted was her sweet lips and her soft body and her sigh of surrender.
“Pizza selfie.” Daisy held up her phone and took a picture of them with the pizza box angled in the corner. She laughed when she showed him the screen. This time he was the one who looked dazed.
* * *
• • •
IT was an incredible second half. The Leafs allowed three goals in the third period and lost for the first time in four games, 5–2 to the San Jose Sharks with Radim Šimek scoring on an empty net with fifty-seven seconds left. By the end of the game, Daisy was best friends with the couple behind them, and had high-fived everyone seated in their section. They’d finished the pizza and the rest of the food and shouted themselves hoarse.
“This was amazing.” Daisy put her arm around Liam’s waist as they shuffled through the crowd. “Much better than a textile exhibition. I never imagined myself in a shark head hat, but I could become a convert.”
“Liam! Hey, dude!”
Liam gritted his teeth when he saw the two investment bankers coming toward them. Over the years, he’d wined and dined them countless times, taking them to bars, parties, and various clubs to convince them to invest in his companies. He’d also introduced them to Brendan when his brother took over Murphy Motors, and they’d become good friends. But here, now, with Daisy, they were part of a world he didn’t want her to see.
“Business acquaintances,” he muttered under his breath. “Tall dark one is Marco. Short one is Dan. They’ve had a lot to drink. I’ll say hello and then we’re out of here.”