Page 41 of Double Puck

I wonder what that looks like?

If Declan pins Josie against mattresses before sunrise, what does Beck—

No.

Absolutely not. We are not going there.

Not with three glasses of champagne dissolving whatever remains of my professional judgment.

"And?" I manage through a deep swallow.

"And I've seen enough to know that these boys are not okay. They joke, they drink, they argue about protein powder… but Darcy…" Josie pauses and shakes her head. "Something's changed since the divorce thing. Declan's been grumpier than usual, which I didn't think was possible. Mason's cooking for an army but barely eating. And Beck..."

My eyes snap to her. "Beck what?"

"Beck's… Beck's being Beck. But more than usual. Like he's trying to prove something to everyone, including himself."

I think about our breakfast conversation, the vulnerability in his voice when he talked about chasing after his brothers, trying to be impossible to ignore.

"So," Josie continues, "I invited their sister Zoey to visit this weekend. A Morrison sibling reunion. Get them all together, some food and drinks, maybe help them actually talk about what's happening."

"That sounds nice."

"It would be, except I've never met Zoey in person, and I'm terrified of getting it wrong." Josie's voice goes higher. "She's their sister, Darcy. The one who basically raised them. What if she hates me? What if I say something stupid? What if—"

"Josie, you won't."

"What if she thinks I'm not good enough for Declan?"

I look at her, understanding exactly where this is heading. "You want me to come, don't you?"

"Please," she confirms, trying a sweet smile for good measure. "I promise it will be fun. Diego's promised to make cocktails for as long as it takes to get these boys to smile again."

I should say no.

I should be carefully managing my proximity to Beck Morrison. Especially after what happened in my office.

My trade evaluation needs to remain professional.

And drinking cocktails on a cliffside mansion all weekend does not sound professional.

“You know…" Josie leans in, her expression sharper now. She nudges my elbow, her tone laced with wicked intent. "If you do come, it means more time to… evaluate Mr. Morrison. You'd just be doing your job, babe.”

I hold up a hand, cutting her off. "Alright, fine. But for the record, I’m agreeing to this weekend solely to support you. Not for… any other reason.”

“Solely for me," she repeats, nudging me again. "Got it."

Josie's smile breaks across her face like sunrise, and for a second, I forget why I ever let us drift apart in the first place.

"Darling, there you are." My mother appears at my elbow, ice-blue silk and elegant purpose radiating off her like a perfume. She looks between Josie and me with obvious delight. "Are you ready? Your father's been working his magic again. These hockey friends of yours appear to have been volunteered."

I follow her gaze across the ballroom just in time to see Beck being handed an auction paddle by a laughing Charles Madden.

Beck catches my eye and winks.

Oh God.

"Volunteered for what?" I ask weakly.