London lined up the two boards and secured them with a nail gun; the loud pop and hiss were muffled by his ear protectors. He’d always worn them when he used the generator and air compressor to protect his hearing. If he couldn’t hear the plays called on the field, he’d be ineffective.

He often used noise-cancelling headphones when travelling for away games. The hordes of reporters said some nasty things that were hard to ignore. Blocking them was better than punching them in the face for commenting about his mom. Not that anyone could find a truthful negative name to call her. For a while there, after he’d made it to the pros, his dad put together a fantastic smear campaign—the kind that created monsters out of men.

It was a miracle he hadn’t been cut from the team because of the drama, and it took years of exemplary behavior for the fans to see that the true monster was his dad. Of course, they didn’t know the full extent of his monstrosities, and London would keep it that way.

Today wasn’t his best day, and London felt himself dragging into the darkness his father always managed to bring into his life. It didn’t matter how many years had gone by; the man was a walking ooze of sadness that spread to London despite his efforts to keep it away. What he needed was some ooze repellant.

Something small and warm touched his arm, making him jump out of the deep hole of contemplation like a rabbit out of a fox’s den. “Aah!” He yanked the ear protectors to hang around his neck and glared down at Maia.

Maia? His heart paused, waiting to see if this was for real.

She giggled. That throaty, downright attractive giggle that undid him. Every. Time.

“What the …?”

She saluted. Her right hand wore a lime-green gardening glove. “Sergeant Maia reporting for clean-up duty, sir.”

He glanced over her shoulder to see April, the traitorous personal assistant, and another woman also wearing gardening gloves. They too wielded brooms and a dustpan.

Maia’s down-home wholesome smile lit her face. “I brought new recruits.”

London’s brain smoked as he tried to make sense of Maia standing right here in front of him, wearing a sweet little dress and a can-do attitude. “Are you serious right now?” He took her slim shoulders in his big hands and kneaded her arms in an effort to convince himself that she was real. “You seriously flew to Texas to help me clean up Mom’s flower shop? That might be the biggest, grandest, most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me.”

She squirmed. “Technically, I was already in Texas when I heard about what happened.”

Wait—she was in Texas?

“Yeah—but she made the driver break the law at least seven times on the way here,” added the gray-haired woman he didn’t know. She flicked her high ponytail over her shoulder and huffed. “And she put him to work.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, sending London’s gaze that direction.

A small, round man knelt in a gray driver’s uniform, prying up the cracked pathway stones with a screwdriver. He already had a small pile of them to his right.

London tipped his head back and laughed before pulling Maia into his arms and hugging the stuffing out of her. She’d come. She came. She saw his need and she brought her bright, smiling face right on over without hesitation. Well, maybe she’d hesitated, but he didn’t care, because the end result was that she was here. During the frog and princess movie, he’d debated asking for her phone number. He was going to do it, too—the bright sparks between their clasped hands were like a coach on the sideline yelling at him to get a move on. Only, Coach wasn’t screaming at him to tackle a receiver; he was prodding London to keep Maia from slipping away.

And then he’d gotten the text from his mom about the break-in and had to dash to make the late flight to Dallas out of LAX. He hadn’t even stopped at the hotel to pick up his suitcase, instead arranging for it to be shipped.

“London!” Maia squeaked.

He lifted her off her feet and spun her around. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“What’s going on out here?” Mom called as she entered the yard from the shop. He carried Maia over to his mom, walking backward so he didn’t give away the surprise, and set her down gently.

“Look who came to help.” He beamed as he stepped aside to reveal Maia. He couldn’t help but smile with all his soul. Maia was here. She’d come—for him.

Mom yelped and threw her arms around Maia. “My darling girl! What are you doing here? Let me look at you.” She released Maia from the rocking hug and cupped her face in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re here. Look, London, Maia!”

London chuckled. “I know.” He’d forgotten how much his mom loved Maia all those years ago. They’d soaked each other in like long-lost besties. Mom had had to be careful with her affection in front of Dad, but she didn’t hold back when she had the chance. And Maia never held back. She was brave with her love, no matter who was watching. He’d admired that about her.

“What are you doing here?” Mom clutched both of Maia’s hands with her own.

Maia laughed away the happy tears gathering on her lower lashes. “Well—”

“Do not cry and ruin all my hard work,” threatened the new girl. She and April were picking up the broken path pieces the driver set aside and dumping them in the rubber trash can. He, having removed what needed to go, was busy pouring sand into the holes and leveling it off. London was impressed.

“That’s Kristi, my stylist.” Maia indicated the spunky one in gloves with a tip of her head.

London furrowed his brow as he looked at the small crew Maia hauled around with her. A personal assistant, a stylist, and a driver who apparently was a stonemason in a past life. They chatted together, happily working on making The Flower Pot a better place. They were exactly the type of people Maia would attract. Light attracts light. And they filled this place with their glow, banishing the darkness Dad had left in his destructive wake.

“Anyway, I was doing a segment with Waking Up with Dallas and someone mentioned London going to the premiere with me, which brought up London playing for the Titans, which brought up the story they’d done on your store.” She paused to catch her breath. “I’m so sorry, Karen. You don’t deserve this kind of random violence. I hope they catch whoever did it and throw the bookshelf at them.”

“I think you mean throw the book at them,” London corrected.

“No, I think a whole bookshelf would be better.” Maia smirked and brushed her palms together. “So, where should we start?” She looked around, seeing her little group of followers diligently putting the place back together. “Oh, they’ve started without me.” She frowned at her entourage.

Karen kissed her on both cheeks. “You’ve already been a huge help, just showing up and making us all smile again—you’re a special kind of sunshine.”

“I’ve missed you.” Maia hugged her fiercely. “I want to hear everything you’ve done over the last ten years.”

To her credit, Mom’s smile didn’t falter. How she managed to keep the abuse, the police reports, the court dates, and general misery behind that smile was beyond him. “That’s going to have to wait until we have time for some herbal tea and girl talk.”

“It’s a date.” Maia nodded.

London took Maia’s hand and tugged her toward where he was rebuilding or fixing the tables. “You can help me with construction.”

Karen made her way over to the man on the floor. “Can I get you all something to drink?”

Their answers were drowned out by the air compressor as it kicked on. Maia covered her ears and yelled, “What are we constructing?”

He flipped off the compressor and his ears rang. “Several of the tables were destroyed or broken. I’m putting them back together.”

“We’re putting them back together.” Maia grinned.

“You’re in a dress.”

“Pft. Didn’t you see Jurassic World? Women can save the world in heels and dresses.”

He rolled his eyes, feeling playful. “Name one other woman who can do battle in a dress.”

“Wonder Woman.”

He lifted one eyebrow in challenge. “You call that a dress?”

She giggled, and his heart about jumped out of his chest in an effort to be closer to her. “Fine, miniskirt. But it counts.”

Basking in her happiness was like walking onto the perfect day at the beach—warm, clean, inviting, and filled with the promise of fun. He pulled her to his chest and hugged her again. “You’re still stubborn.”

“And you’re still buff.” Her hands flattened against his chest.

He laughed. “It’s part of the job.” Everything was just right when Maia was in his arms. That’s just all there was to it. He hadn’t gone to the premiere believing that there could be anything left between them, not after the heartbreak he’d caused. But standing here in his mom’s yard, holding Maia against him and feeling her pulse pound in time with his, he believed in second chances.

She sucked in a ragged breath. “We should probably get to work.”

His arms went slack. They used to be on the same wavelength—being able to hold a conversation with little more than eye contact and the touch of a hand. But if she was thinking about working, then they were most definitely not thinking about the same things.

He took the ear protectors off and placed them on Maia’s head. They were much too big and flopped down, dragging her hair over her eye. She laughed and pushed them back up. With a slight adjustment, they stayed in place.

“What are you going to wear?” she yelled.

He chuckled and pulled one earpiece out to the side. “You don’t have to yell. I can still hear you.”

“Oh.” She puffed her bangs off her forehead and he let the earpiece settle back in place.

“I have an extra set in my tool belt.” He turned on the compressor and picked up his tool belt, securing it around his middle.

Maia’s eyes rounded and she glanced quickly away.

“What?” He looked himself over.

“Nothing.”

Oh no she didn’t. He folded his arms to wait her out.

“Stop that!” She swatted at him.

“Stop what?”

“Stop with the Mr. November impersonation.” She fanned her face. “You’re overheating Texas.”

Mr. What?

She shoved him, though it didn’t move him at all, and neither did it help clear up his confusion. “If I wanted a calendar full of football players in tool belts striking poses, I’d ask for one for Christmas.”

Now it was his turn to blush. “I’m not trying to pose for you.” What did she think, that he couldn’t wait to flex? That he was some kind of mindless football player who only cared about his next set of squats and a protein drink?

She sighed. “That’s what makes it so impressive. You can’t help it.”

Okay, that might have melted him. He’d forgotten how easily Maia handed out compliments—like she had no filter. Which was one of the reasons he’d fallen for her in the first place. Every day he watched what he said, where he stepped, who he talked to for how long—even how loudly he chewed his food. He was constantly aware of his body, his voice, and his actions. Not Maia. She was free. Free and flying through life. Man, she was beautiful.

Is beautiful, he amended as he watched her capture her tongue between her front teeth as she examined his work.