Page 54 of Double Puck

I start typing again, the same line I've been working on for ten minutes now.

Subject is showing strong community engagement. My thumbs hesitate over the screen as my brain unhelpfully chimes in: Also, the best mouth I’ve ever kissed.

My cheeks flush and I viciously backspace the thought. Again.

Professional. Stay professional.

“Oh, my God, are you deleting something again?” Josie’s sharp intake of breath breaks through my mental spiraling.

“No,” I lie quickly, the screen dimming as if it’s joining in on the betrayal.

Josie twists toward me like a coiled spring. “What? No! Let me see your nerd notes. Was it scandalous? Was it about him?”

There's more noise booming from inside the mansion. Shit. Maybe Beck has finally arrived. My stomach flips, followed by an entirely less respectable throb between my thighs when I think about kissing him again.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

“Go away! It’s work,” I bite out, tilting the screen away from Josie's prying eyes. "I need to update this evaluation before Colin fires me!"

“Ohhh no, Darcy Madden,” Josie says in a slow, accusing sing-song. She sits up straighter, her sunglasses slipping into her lap. “Did something happen between you two? It wasn't your mother who smudged your lipstick last night, was it?”

I look at her.

“No.” I swallow hard, refusing to lose my friend again by being dishonest. “No. It wasn't.”

"I knew it!" Josie grins wickedly. “Oh my God, you kissed Beck Morrison, didn’t you?”

"Shhhh!" I shoot up, nearly knocking both my tablet and the margherita over. I throw her a look that I hope screams stop talking as Mason and Diego burst out with a barrel of laughter over by the table behind us. "Could you be any louder?!"

Her gasp is louder than it has any right to be. “YOU DID.”

I groan, lowering the tablet onto my lap. “Josie—”

“When? WHERE?!" She sets her drink aside. "Did he initiate? Was there tongue? Darcy Madden, you better not skip details."

This is torture. Absolute torture.

“I’m not doing this here.”

“Oh, you’re definitely doing this.” Josie’s wide grin is back. “Come on, I’m stressed as hell over here! Be supportive! Distract me with the details!”

I clench my jaw, staring hard at the tablet in my lap.

“I don’t have details,” I lie. Again.

“Fuck off,” she sings. “You’re getting so bad at lying. You need to practice that before you eventually claim the Bears GM job.”

My brain screeches to a stop.

Wait.

“You think I could be GM?” I look across at Josie, suddenly serious in my expression.

Josie's expression goes blank for a second, like she's genuinely confused by which part of that sentence has caught my attention.

“Darcy, you could absolutely be GM.”

My stomach does this ridiculous little flutter that has nothing whatsoever to do with Beck Morrison for once.