“Well… technically… I don’t know.”

  The tween next to me snickers. “Are you really trying to pull an it’s complicated on me?”

  I blow out a breath as I stop at another red light. “I’m not trying to pull anything. But” — I hold up a hand — “in my defense, it’s true.”

  “Why is it complicated? Because you used to date?”

  Internally, I kick myself. I should have just accepted her first yes and left it at that.

  “We…” I trail off.

  I can’t tell my twelve-year-old that my past with Maddox was more of a one-night stand than an actual relationship.

  “You know.” She starts up again. “The more you evade answering my questions, the more I’m going to ask.”

  I send Chelsea a look before I start driving again. “I think you watch too many crime dramas.”

  She shrugs. “Maybe.”

  Sighing, I take the next turn onto the street with our preferred nail salon. “Maddox and I met in college.”

  “I thought you did online school?”

  I nod. “I did for the last two years to get my accounting degree. But I went to HOP University for one week at the beginning of my junior year, and that’s when I met Maddox.”

  “Just one week?” Chelsea turns in her seat, and I know I have her full attention now.

  “Yeah. I was one week in when Grandma had her stroke.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders slump. “So you had to move back home, and you couldn’t keep dating.”

  “Basically.” It’s a massive oversimplification of the story, but yeah.

  “Well, that sucks.”

  I smile at her romantic little heart. “It did.”

  “And… that’s why it’s complicated?”

  I tip my head back and forth. “I think we’ve worked through all the old hurt feelings. But he’s the owner of the company that I work for now, so he’s basically my boss. And dating him would be against the rules.”

  “Ooh, so it’s like a secret relationship.” Chelsea sounds way too excited. “Like one of those Hallmark movies Grandma watches.”

  Images of Maddox bending me over the desk flash into my mind.

  I clear my throat. “Kinda.”

  “If it’s a secret, won’t everyone see him at the game?”

  She has a point. And I suddenly feel a bit like crying.

  Spotting an open parking spot, I pull into it. “Maybe it’s a bad idea.”

  “Fuck it.”

  I jerk my head over. “Chelsea!”

  “What?” She lifts her hands. “Look, Aunt Hannah, I don’t want you staying single forever because of me. And don’t pretend I’m not the reason you don’t date.”

  “That’s not —”

  She points a finger at me, and I stop talking.

  “I’ve looked him up.” My eyes widen. “Mad Dog Maddox.” She rolls her eyes while she says his famous nickname. “He’s basically a beast. Super strong. Big guy. Right?”

  I nod. “Right.”

  “Seems kinda indestructible.” She undoes her seat belt. “So, if anyone can break the curse, it’s gotta be him.”

  Chelsea opens the car door and slides out, like she didn’t just shift my entire world.

  It’s gotta be him.

  SEVENTY-EIGHT

  MADDOX

  “Are you sure?” Hannah asks again.

  “Yes,” Chelsea and I answer at the same time.

  Hannah tosses up her hands. “I’m just asking.”

  “For like the hundredth time,” Chelsea huffs.

  She’s hardly even exaggerating.

  Hannah called me last night, worried that going out in public was a bad idea.

  I assured her it was fine.

  She called me this morning, saying maybe I shouldn’t come.

  I told her I would be there at noon.

  She spent the whole ride here twisting her hands together, suggesting I just drop them off at the stadium and that she’ll figure out a ride home.

  I ignored her.

  Hannah looks up at me, worry written all over her face.

  “Babe.” I palm the back of her neck, keeping her at my side as we move with the crowd of people toward the entrance to the stadium. “Listen to me, yeah?”

  She blinks and nods.

  Chelsea peeks around Hannah to look up at me too.

  “How many people are on the payroll at MinneSolar?”

  Hannah huffs out a breath. “I think it’s eighty-seven.”

  “It is.” I don’t know for sure, but I’m confident she’s right. I tip my head toward the massive structure in front of us. “The Kids stadium holds thirty-nine thousand people. Even if every single one of our colleagues decides to come to today’s game, what are the odds we’ll run into them?” Before she tries to come up with the mathematical answer, I give her the reasonable one. “Low. The odds are low, Bunny.”

  “Bunny?” Chelsea makes a gagging sound.

  I chuckle but keep addressing Hannah. “And what are the odds that all eighty-seven would be here today?”

  She sighs. “Practically zero.”

  “So if we bring it back to the original equation and assume maybe one other MinneSolar employee is here, what are the odds we’ll run into them?”

  The look Hannah gives me is full of annoyance. “I understand what you’re trying to do, but you also stand out in a crowd — from size alone — but you’re also famous, which draws even more attention.” She says the word famous like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world. “So if you want me to figure the odds of the situation, those factors need to be taken into consideration.”

  I lean forward to talk to Chelsea. “She always like this?”

  Chelsea nods. “Always.”

  Hannah swats at me.

  “If it makes you feel better.” I pull a baseball hat from my back pocket and put it on my head. “I’ll wear a disguise.”

  The hat is white, with the Kids’s logo centered on the front, and I’ve had it forever, because Hannah was right, everyone likes baseball.

  Hannah groans. “That makes you look like even more of an athlete.”

  “Fine.” I pull the hat off my head and set it on hers. “You wear the disguise. It’s my final offer.”

  Hannah looks forward, and I instantly realize my mistake. She’s shorter than I am, so if she wears a hat, I’ll never see her face.

  “Just kidding.” I pull it off her head.

  “Hey!”

  “Nope.” I toss it to Chelsea.

  “Mad —” Hannah switches to a whisper. “Maddox, what is wrong with you?”

  God, she’s being way too fucking precious right now. If her kid wasn’t next to us, I’d shut her up with my mouth.

  Instead, I give her half the truth.

  “You’re not wearing any team but mine.” Then I think about it. “Actually.” I drop my hand off the back of Hannah’s neck and reach behind her to snatch the hat off Chelsea’s head, where she just put it. “Sorry, that goes for both of you.”

  “Aww, come on!” Chelsea reaches for it, but I put it back on my head.

  “Sorry, Smidge. I don’t make the rules.” I straighten the bill, then put my hand back on Hannah’s neck.

  “You literally just made up that rule,” Chelsea argues. And she’s not wrong.

  A beat later, she leans around Hannah again. “What did you call me?”

  “Smidge. Like a smidgen.” Using my free hand, I hold my thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “Because you’re such a little human.”

  Her mouth drops open, and even though she’s not Hannah’s biological offspring, the mannerisms are spot on.

  I grin at her.

  “I’ll have you know, I’m tall for my age,” the child argues.

  “Uh-huh, sure.” I lean forward so she can see me when I hold my fingers up again.

  “You know what?” The girl doesn’t miss a beat. “Aunt Hannah was right, you should just drop us off.”

  My bark of laughter surprises the guy next to me so much that he trips.

  “Sorry,” I mumble to the man.

  Chelsea slaps a hand over her mouth, and Hannah just shakes her head.

  SEVENTY-NINE

  HANNAH

  I’m still nervous, but Maddox was right. There are so many people here I could have a missing twin standing ten feet away and still not see them.

  It’s not that I don’t want anyone to know about me and Maddox. I just don’t want anyone to know until I have another job lined up. And I can’t really say that to Maddox either. Because I know what he’ll do. He’ll insist it’s okay. He’ll make HR change the no-fraternization policy. And then I’ll be stuck working at a place where everyone talks behind my back because I’m the girl sleeping with the owner.

  And it wouldn’t matter how discreet we were. If Maddox made a change to that specific policy, word would get out, and everyone would speculate until they figured it out.

  Or worse, Brandon would only hear about the policy change and then take the opportunity to ask me out directly.

  Gross.

  “This way.” Maddox directs us after we get through security.

  It seems like the crowd parts for Maddox, and I don’t know if it’s because people recognize him or because no one wants to be stepped on by him.

  “Smidge, come up here.” With the hand not holding mine, Maddox gestures for Chelsea to go ahead of him.

  “Um…” Even as his nickname for Chelsea melts my heart, I want to object, because now we’re moving single file, and I can’t see her.

  He flexes his fingers around mine, proving he heard me and silently telling me to trust him.

  Searching for my inner calm, I follow as we make our way through the crowded walkways.

  The crowd finally starts to thin, and I peer around Maddox to look for Chelsea.

  I find her directly in front of Maddox, with his big hand on top of her head.

  “This is us.” He uses his hold to turn Chelsea’s head, and she laughs as she turns the rest of her body to go where he says.

  Together, we cut across the walkway and stop at the top of a flight of stairs that I assume will take us to our seats.

  Maddox drops his hand from her head. “See? So tiny you fit in my hand.”

  Chelsea makes a face at him as she fixes her hair, but I can see the humor in her eyes.

  It’s gotta be him.

  I squeeze Maddox’s fingers.

  “Seats first, then —” He cuts off and lifts a hand to grab someone’s attention. “Hey, man. I’ll take three if you’re selling them already.”

  A guy carrying one of those big crates full of bottled water appears next to Maddox.

  Maddox pays an absurd amount of money for three bottles of water, then hands one to each of us. “Stay hydrated.”

  Chelsea and I thank him at the same exact time, making Maddox smile broadly. And he looks so… happy.

  And fuck me, I think I’m addicted to seeing that smile.

  Unaware of my thoughts, Maddox opens his bottle and tips it back.

  His throat works as he swallows half the contents in one go.

  It doesn’t matter that he’s retired. Doesn’t matter that he’s not training for hours a day anymore. He’s still big and thick in all the ways that count. And in jeans, a T-shirt with a faded logo I don’t recognize, and that fucking hat — the white contrasting with his dark hair — he’s obnoxiously good looking. And like I said before, he looks exactly like the athlete he is.

  I drop my gaze over to Chelsea. She’s rolling her eyes at me, having caught me staring.

  I mouth shut up at her, and she just rolls her eyes again.

  “Okay, row eight.” Maddox pokes Chelsea in the shoulder. “You first.”

  “Why me first?” Chelsea narrows her eyes at the big man.

  “Because you’re easy to see over,” Maddox says seriously. “And if we trip, you can break our fall.”

  Chelsea grumbles something about “worst idea ever” as she turns to start down the stairs, but I don’t miss the way her cheeks twitch.

  Maddox presses his hand to my back. “You next.”

  “So you can crush me too?”

  Maddox drags his fingertips up the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

  I hurry forward, his deep chuckle following me.

  Careful on the steps, I admit that it feels good to be out in public with Maddox. Like this is our normal, and we do it all the time.

  I make a mental note to check on my job applications tomorrow. I’ve heard back from a few of the companies that I’ve since decided won’t be a good fit, but there’s still a handful that I think would work.

  “What seats?” Chelsea stops at the end of our row.

  “Um…” I start to pull out my phone to check.

  “The three on the end,” Maddox answers for me.

  Chelsea moves to the third in, waving to a kid a few seats down.

  It looks like the whole front chunk of this section is filled with Chelsea’s classmates and their parents.

  “Hey, Hannah!” A mom two rows down is turned around, looking up at us.

  “Hey!” I know I know her, but I feel like a jerk because her name is slipping my mind. “How’s your summer going?”

  She shakes her head. “Chaotic. Too short. Too hot. Take your pick.”

  “Sounds about right,” I laugh and shuffle into the row after Chelsea. “At least today isn’t scorching.”

  The woman nods, but her attention is no longer on me. It’s on the man behind me.

  I let her stare as I stop in front of my seat.

  I wore a wide-strapped red tank top today and a pair of stretchy but fitted jean capris. The fitted part was important because my hips are wide enough, and I’m trying to keep them contained, not add more fabric to increase my width.

  This morning, as I was dressing, I had a vivid memory of the last time we came to a game here. We sat way up in the nosebleed seats, and I remember struggling to get my ass between the unforgiving armrests.

  I’m not huge. Not the biggest girl there ever was. And most of the time, I feel totally fine in my body. But then I get into a situation — or seat — like that, and I remember the world isn’t built for me.

  Holding my breath, I lower myself.

  My hips press against the armrests, and I have a moment of sheer panic that I’m not going to be able to sit here. But I let more of my weight press down, and my squishy bits adjust, letting me slide the rest of the way into the seat.

  I fill my lungs.

  It’s not comfortable, but it’s fine. And I’m not stuck perching on the edge of the seat like I did before.

  Then Maddox sits down.

  His hips are trim. But his frame is huge. So his butt fits into the seat just fine, but his knees touch the seat in front of him and his shoulder presses into mine, forcing me to lean over into Chelsea’s seat.

  He grunts, and shifts, and says something about “made for fucking children.”

  And suddenly, I don’t feel too big anymore.

  Biting my lip, I twist and look up at him. “You okay?”

  He shifts. “I feel like Baymax stuck in that window.”

  I let out a startled laugh and shake my head. “How do you even know that reference?”

  Maddox lifts his arm up around my shoulders. “What, a man can’t enjoy a good animated film?”

  “You’re totally right. Sorry for judging.”

  “Uh-huh.” Maddox looks down at me. “Babe. I take up too much space.”

  My humor fades. “No, you don’t.” I grip his thigh, squeezing. “You’re perfect.”

  His giant grin catches me off guard. “Oh, Bunny.” With the arm around my shoulders, he pulls me into his body and kisses the top of my head. “I appreciate you saying that. But I need something else from you.”

  He loosens his grip, and my eyes drop to his lap before snapping back up to meet his gaze.

  And he looks like he’s trying really hard not to laugh. “I’d appreciate you for that too. But try to control yourself. This is a family sport.”

  I flick his leg. “You’re the one —”

  He gives my ponytail a little tug. “I need you to switch seats with your mini me.”

  Spacing on what we’d been talking about, I look up at him.

  Maddox sighs. “So pretty. So forgetful.”

  That makes me narrow my eyes at him.

  He reaches past me, tapping Chelsea on the shoulder.

  “What?” She turns away from her friends to face us.

  “Smidge, change spots with Hannah.”

  Chelsea looks around me at the big man. “Why?”

  He pulls his arm back from around me and wedges it down his side, which shoves me over into Chelsea’s space. “Because I’m a monster and you’re Smidge, and then I can take up all the space you don’t use.”

  Chelsea snorts, then taps her finger to her chin. “What do I get out of it?”

  I open my mouth to tell her blackmail isn’t nice, but Maddox answers first.

  “What do you want?”

  “Mini donuts.” Her eyes widen as she says it.

  We purposely ate lunch at home before Maddox picked us up so we wouldn’t have to spend a fortune buying food here. But mini donuts do sound amazing.

  “Anything else?”

  I look at Maddox. “You’re not really good at negotiating, are you?”

  “I plan to eat half the donuts myself.” He shrugs.

  Chelsea thinks. “A slushie?”

  Maddox looks at me. “How about you, Auntie?”

  Auntie.

  “Um…” Why does that sound so dirty when he says it? “A slushie sounds good.”

  “’Kay.” Maddox wedges himself up to standing, then points at Chelsea. “Smidge, you’re with me.”

  I start to stand, but Maddox shakes his head. “We got this.”

  Hesitating, I look at him, then over at Chelsea.

  They get along — that’s clear to see. But I don’t want either of them to feel like they have to spend time together if they don’t want to.

  But then Chelsea climbs over my legs to get out, zero hesitation on her face as she points to the cupholder in front of her seat. “I left my water.”