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Our driver inches out of line and pulls over ahead of the other cars. My head swivels, trying to figure out what we’re doing.

“Are you worried about my parents or your job being a problem? Neither is an issue for me.”

“Stop saying all the right things when I’m being a dick!” I throw my hands up, my face getting hot.

“Should I tell you to get your shit together and get your ass out of the car? That seems harsh.” Mav gathers me in his arms. “I’m fine if we stay or go, but it’ll be together.”

“I’m being stupid,” I say, turning my face so I don’t get makeup on his stunning suit. “It’s everything, nothing, and an all-me problem.” I raise my hand. “Remember your draft night when we met in the cornfield? You were ecstatic that your dream was becoming a reality, then it scared the shit out of you. You doubted yourself, your skating ability, and your hockey knowledge.”

“But you were there to stop my insanity and tell me everything would be okay.” He kisses my hair.

“But I lied! Nothing happened the way we planned. And you’re here now, giving everything and more than I wanted then, but I don’t trust it. I’m waiting for disaster to strike and hoping that happens behind closed doors and not in front of cameras.” My shaky hand reaches for my hair, but I stop so I don’t mess it up.

Mav shifts, holding my head in the crook of his arm. “I can’t lie and guarantee us a happy ending, but I can promise to do everything in my power to make it happen.” He’s so sincere my heart aches.

“Let’s go home,” he whispers.

“No.” I straighten up. “We came here to support charities and have a great time. The world would be a drearier place not seeing you in your suit.” His suit’s a masterpiece on his body, highlighting his broad shoulders and trim waist. And the man’s ass in those pants should be sculpted and preserved forever.

Mav’s right. There are no guarantees, but we have each other now, and there’s no reason to invent possible reasons for a future breakup. Future heartbreak be damned, I’m going to enjoy Mav being my man tonight.

“You sure?” His hazel eyes search mine, and he smiles. Mav lowers his window again and gets Finn’s attention.

“Please, work us into the line.” Mav takes my hand.

“You’ll be up after King and O’Keefe. I’ll open your door when it’s your turn.” He walks away to join the controlled chaos.

“Is that okay with you?” I murmur.

“O’Keefe’s a loose cannon. He blurts shit out and has a knack for offending people. I hated him when I first got here. But King has a calming effect on him and we’re friends. That won’t change because he met you at your job.” He pumps my hand, and I believe him.

“Have I told you how much…” Mav trails off. “How happy I am you’re here with me? The best-looking guy in the city, the state, the—”

“I’ll settle for this car.” I trace his lips with my forefinger. “Thank you for bringing me and putting up with my meltdown.” I air-kiss his cheek so I don’t get sparkles on his lips.

He tuts. “That was five levels below a meltdown.”

“How about you tell them my name is Sky and don’t give a last name. It might help,” I hedge.

The door opens, and I breathe deep before following Mav out. This night is a hundred times more public than I had imagined. I figured the team photographer would circulate and take a few pictures to release to the press. The chance of being in one of those was low. Now major news organizations and paparazzi will own photos of us.

Mav smiles and waves as the press calls his name. King and O’Keefe pause to take a photo with us, then we’re bombarded with questions.

“This is my friend, Sky.”

Lots of people want Maverick to explain how friendly of friends we are.

“If you have any tips on how to get out of the friend zone, hit me up.” He grins, and there’s a collective laugh.

I stay silent and smile. Mav tells them about his suit and gushes that I designed my outfit, except for the bolero jacket.

Mav steers me straight to the bar and orders us drinks. “Should we leave?” he asks, because I’m shaking.

“No, that went well. Don’t you think?” I’ve successfully lowered my heart rate, and my breathing is steady.

“Besides worrying that you would pass out, great.” He links our fingers.

“Yeah, sorry. That reaction was unexpected,” I confess. “Next event, I’ll do better.”