Page 88 of Lucky Mother Pucker

She beams at me when I shake her hand. “Always nice to meet another redhead,” she says.

I chuckle. For a few minutes, we sip on our drinks and visit. Nick and Ryker get pulled into a nearby conversation. Madeline and Poppy head to the bar to top off their drinks.

Leo turns to me. “Everything go okay in the ladies’ room? My sister didn’t light anything on fire, did she?”

I chuckle. “No, it’s all good. They just told me some cute stories about you when you were a kid.”

His cheeks redden. “Oh, god, really?” he groans.

“No, it was all good. They told me about what you did when you were little, how you gave all your food and snacks to a homeless man.”

His brow lifts. “Oh, shoot. I forgot about that.” He makes a flustered noise and looks away, like he’s embarrassed.

I grab his arm with both of my hands. “It was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

He looks at me, his gaze focused.

“I mean it, Leo. That was so beautiful. You’re such a good person. Like, truly good. To the core.”

His smile is shy. “I don’t know about that.”

“You are. Even as a little kid, you were kind to others. You went out of your way to help.” I pause for a second. “When I first met you…when you offered to help me, I was so confused. I couldn’t figure out why you were like that. I thought you had an agenda, just like everyone else. But I was wrong.”

Intensity flickers in his gaze as he listens.

“You are so good, Leo. At the core, you’re everything good.”

He closes his eyes for a second, like he’s processing what I’ve said. And then he looks at me and flashes the most beautiful smile.

He opens his mouth to speak, but someone walks up to him and pats his shoulder.

“Leo, my boy. I heard you got drafted by Vegas. Congratulations.”

Leo turns to the older man and offers a polite smile. “Thanks, Maurice.”

He turns to me. “This is one of my dad’s old teammates.”

I smile at him. “I’m Lucy. Pleasure to meet you.”

Another older guy walks up to Leo. I think he’s another one of his dad’s teammates, judging by their conversation.

“You’re on fire this season,” he says. “You’re a fierce player, just like your dad.”

“You don’t hog the puck as much though,” Maurice jokes. They both laugh.

They talk for another minute before I notice the tired look on Leo’s face. I take that as my cue. Time to buffer.

I move closer to Leo and slide my arm through his. “Sorry to cut this short, gentleman, but Leo promised he’d hunt me down a shrimp cocktail a half-hour ago, and my appetite is catching up,” I say sweetly.

The guys just chuckle. “Oh, go right ahead. Don’t let us stop you.”

We walk off.

“Thanks for that,” Leo says. “Those guys are nice, but they can talk for awhile.”

“It’s no problem. It’s why I’m here tonight, remember?”

Leo grabs a shrimp cocktail from a waiter passing by and hands it to me. I’m stuffing my face when someone standing behind us clears their throat.