Never Sleigh Never, page 22
“Hey Dad!”
“Hey Peanut! Did you have fun with Grandma?”
“I did! It was a blast! We got to pet the reindeer, and we went Christmas caroling, and then saw the reindeer race, which isn’t actual reindeer, but dogs!”
Glancing at my mom, a Cheshire grin fills her face. I shift my gaze back to Josie. “Why don’t you put your stuff away and then you can tell me all about it?”
“Okay!” she grabs her backpack and climbs the stairs.
“So,” my mom says casually, “who is she?”
“Just a girl.”
“Mm-hmm. Well, if you won’t tell me, I can always ask around town. You know how fast news spreads in Mount Holly.”
“Thanks for the blackmail, Mom.”
“That’s what mothers do.” Her smile softens. “So, are you going to tell me?”
I scrub my hands down my face. “I’m pretty sure you already know.”
She nods. “I wanted confirmation. I’m so happy for you. Beneath all that bickering and hostility, I sensed a burning passion between you two.
“Mom, don’t say ‘burning passion’.”
“Fiery lust.”
“Not any better.”
“Steamy connection.”
“Nope, you can just stop right there. We’re just seeing where it goes. No need to be saving any dates or anything.”
“Either way, I’m happy for you.” She wraps her arms around me in a tight hug only a mother can give. “You deserve a little joy in your life.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I hug her back. “Also, don’t tell anyone. Everything is new, and we haven’t even discussed what it is between us.”
Josie races down the stairs. “Bye, Grandma!”
After they say their goodbyes, I open the door for my mom, and she strolls to her car. For the rest of the evening, I sit on the couch with Josie while she tells me everything she and my mom did. As soon as she goes to bed, I spend the rest of the night thinking about Brie. About her laugh, her kisses, the way she feels curled against me. And about the fact that, for the first time in years, I actually want more.
Twenty-Seven
I’m Skating!
Logan
They say time apart makes the heart grow fonder. I’m hoping twenty-four hours qualifies as time apart, because I haven’t stopped thinking about Brie since she left my house. Sure, the sex was incredible. Life-changing. And yes, I want nothing more than to do it again. But also, I love talking to her. She’s like a fireplace in the middle of a snowstorm, melting the chill right out of me. When I’m with her, the rest of the world falls away until it’s just us—our own bubble where everything feels safe, easy, right.
When I spotted a red scarf with silver snowflakes while shopping for Josie, I bought it for Brie without hesitation. Red for her favorite color and snowflakes for me.
Would I be pushing the line toward stalker territory if I just drove past her house to see if she was home? Probably. Am I going to do it anyway? Yup. I turn the corner onto Mistletoe Street, looking for a place to make a U-turn, but the bright lights shining from the festival pique my interest. Instead of turning around, I continue driving down the road. After a few blocks, Brie’s SUV comes into view. I grin, pulling in beside it. Guess I don’t need to be a stalker tonight.
A light dusting of snow floats from the sky, twinkling in the rink lights. On the far side, a figure clings to the boards like a newborn deer on stilts. I laugh under my breath. Hopping out of my truck, I grab my skates and hockey stick from the back seat before strolling down the path leading to the opening. Brie stands up on wobbly legs. Staying out of sight, I slide my shoes off and replace them with my skates. Once they’re on, I walk to the opening of the rink and glide over the smooth ice. I drop my shoes off at the bench next to her belongings. Pulling the puck from my pocket, I toss it onto the ice. The scrape of my blades on the ice makes her head whip up. She gasps, knuckles whitening against the wall. Whizzing past her, I twist around so I’m skating backward.
“What are you doing here? Come to watch me embarrass myself?” She rises to her full height and loosens her grip.
“Saw the lights on and thought I would toss the puck around. I didn’t know you skate.”
“I don’t,” she says, laughing at herself. “These skates have been buried in my closet since high school. I figured now is a perfect time to break them out.”
Skating beside her, I smirk. “They’ll work better if you glide instead of walk.”
“Easy for the hockey pro to say.”
“Fair. So what did you tell everyone about the snowman?”
“I feigned surprise, and now the entire town thinks there’s a vandal on the loose. They’re locking their doors, and I overheard something about starting a neighborhood watch group.”
A chuckle escapes me. “I’m shocked there isn’t something already set up.”
“Don’t worry, they’ll be knocking on your door asking you to join soon enough.”
I glance down the ice. “This is a nice rink you’ve got. Way more glitz than mine. And the tree at the end?” I point to the towering spruce haloed in twinkle lights. “That’s a showstopper.”
“I needed a little spectacle. And since I couldn’t achieve that with height, I added extra twinkle lights.” She shoots me a sideways smile. “It’s hard to compete with Logan Crawford.”
“It doesn’t have to be a competition.”
She snorts. “Between us? It’s always a competition.”
“Maybe back in high school.”
Her gaze dips to her skates. “Anyway, I’m soaking this in while I can. The rink punted my budget straight into what-the-hell-was-I-thinking territory. We might have to cancel the Valentine’s Bouquet Drop, the Leprechaun Hunt, and—brace yourself—the Christmas in July Jamboree.”
I clutch my chest. “Not the Jamboree.”
Her laugh fogs the air in a pale cloud. “I know. The town will be so disappointed. One thing I didn’t anticipate when installing an ice rink is the upkeep it requires to maintain it. The ice wasn’t even in my budget, let alone the funds to keep it operational. I guess I’m enjoying it while it lasts. Because it won’t be around much longer.”
I hate she might lose the rink. Rival or not, I don’t want to see her defeated over something like this. “How much do you need to keep the ice rink afloat for the rest of the year?”
“Like… all of it.” She huffs out a humorless laugh. “Seeing as I’m already over budget for this entire festival, my chance of securing the event coordinator promotion is slowly slipping through my fingers.”
Shit. The budget issue is news to me. With all her hard work, I can clearly see how passionate she is about her job. “You’ve put on one hell of a festival. Josie’s been loving all the contests you’ve had.”
“Thanks. Every year, I try to think of new, fun ideas for the community to enjoy.” Her skates chop at the ice as we move along the boards.
“I could help you with your skating, if you want.”
“This wall is doing a pretty good job.”
I laugh as she inches herself, hand over hand, along the edge of the rink. I push forward until I’m in front of her, skating backward.
“Show-off.” She smirks. “I have to give credit where credit is due. Your rink idea was really great, and starting the Mount Holly Cup Tournament drew a lot of attention.”
“Former hockey player rediscovers hockey,” I deadpan. “Real creative.”
“I suppose.” She makes it three careful shuffles before her blade betrays her. I dart forward, catching her before she faceplants. She lands against my chest, soft and warm, her breath misting between us. “Thanks,” she mutters, “That could have been bad.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve saved you.” I wink, then nod at her feet. “Come on. Try again. Glide, Snowflake.”
“Walking works just fine for me.”
I skate backward, extending a hand. “Just try. Come to me.” She hesitates, then pushes off the wall. Her eyes stay glued to her feet. “There you go. You got it.”
After a few feet, she peers up at me. “Oh my god. I’m skating!” Her smile hits me square in the chest. Then her blade zings sideways. She flails, I reach for her, but she overcompensates. We hit the ice in a heap; Brie sprawled on top of me.
“Oomph,” I wheeze, all the air exiting my lungs.
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
I meet her eyes and forget what pain is. “Yeah. I think so.” My hands find her waist, drifting to the sweet curve of her hips. I never expected to find myself falling for someone after Brooke passed away, but more and more every day, Brie is showing me life continues whether we want it to or not, and that happiness is real again. I tilt my chin up, so my lips are centimeters away from hers. One by one, the rink lights shut off, shrouding us in darkness.
A beat of silence passes before she laughs. “I forgot the timers.”
My fingers flex against the soft fabric covering her ass. “What do you say we get out of here?”
She bites her lip. “Want to come over to my place?”
“And my truck?” Might as well keep up the secretly-hating-each-other ruse. Even though I think the town is catching on. But I’m enjoying the bubble we’re in. It feels safe.
“Park it in my garage.”
After leaving the rink, I follow Brie to her house. On the drive, I make a phone call to my bookkeeper to arrange an anonymous donation to the Mount Holly Festival. Now she won’t have to worry about budget problems. When I arrive at Brie’s house, I step into the foyer from the garage. A pungent scent hits me in the face. “It smells very piney in here.”
Brie tosses me a grin over her shoulder. “Welcome to my tour of trees.”
She shrugs out of her coat, and I catch it halfway down her arm, tugging it free and hanging it beside mine.
“This is the first stop.” She sweeps her arm over her modest living room. A TV hangs on the wall with a couch and loveseat angled in front. With her hand in mine, she leads me to an eight-foot tree in front of a bay window. “This is my traditional tree that I have every year.”
“Wow. This is quite the tree. A little more elaborate than mine.” My gaze roams over her intricately decorated Christmas tree. Not an ornament is out of place.
“It is my favorite holiday, so I go a little over the top.” Next, she leads me into the kitchen. “This is my baking tree. I decorated it with ornaments related to baking.”
My gaze wanders over the gingerbread man, apron, and rolling pin ornaments. “You just had these lying around?”
“It was a great excuse to purchase new ornaments. Plus, I couldn’t have a naked tree.”
“Nobody wants a naked tree,” I agree solemnly.
Her laugh bubbles up, soft and sweet. “Come on. The tour continues.”
We exit the kitchen and stroll down a short hallway and through a doorway. A perfectly made bed sits against a wall in front of us. I lean down, lips brushing her ear. “If you wanted me in here, all you had to do was ask. No Christmas tree bribes required.”
Her smile is wicked. “Behave. Tour first, bribery later. But for now, this is my North Pole themed tree.” She waves her hand over the tree perched in the corner of the room. “It’s decorated with ornaments featuring stockings, Santa, and reindeer.”
I inspect the various ornaments scattered over the tree. My gaze snags on one of Santa sitting in a big red chair with a list in his hand. “So Santa really does watch you while you sleep.”
“Obviously.” She wiggles her brows.
“Tell me—have you been naughty or nice?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I slide behind her, pressing a kiss to her neck. “I’d bet on naughty. Probably while thinking of me.”
Her laugh shivers against me, but she points back at Santa. “Careful. He’s watching.”
“Good thing Santa’s into voyeurism.”
She swats my chest, still laughing. “Later. There’s one more tree left on the tour.” She escorts me out of her bedroom and down the hall to another room. “This one’s not as extravagant. It’s more of a hodgepodge of all my other leftover ornaments.”
Another tree sits in the corner, but my attention veers left. “Forget the tree. What is this?” I slip out of Brie’s grasp and stalk toward a row of tables covered in porcelain buildings, tiny streetlamps, and enough fake snow to bury a small country. “Is this how you’re planning world domination—one miniature city at a time?”
She laughs. “No. It’s just a small hobby of mine.”
“This isn’t a hobby. This is a holiday takeover.” I lean down, squinting at the little figurines.
“Just wait.”
She moves to the opposite side of the display and flips a switch. The whole village hums to life—buildings glowing, streetlamps flickering, skaters gliding in endless loops across a frozen pond. My jaw drops.
“Hold up.” I point at a square building with Hardware Store painted across the front. A few figurines down—Coffee Shop. Then, at the end of Main Street, the town square and a rink suspiciously like the one we just left. My eyes widen. “Wait. This isn’t just a village. This is Mount Holly. You’ve built a replica of the town.”
Her gaze flicks to the table as she fiddles with a tiny Santa figurine. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s all right here.” One by one, I point to the buildings. “You have the hardware store, the coffee shop, the diner. There’s a tea shop.”
“We don’t have one of those in Mount Holly.”
“Yeah, that’s because they probably don’t make miniature bars. That’s exactly where the Crooked Reindeer is.”
“Alright, that’s enough. No more analyzing my Christmas village. Isn’t there a hockey game on? We should go watch it.”
I laugh. “Trying to use hockey as a diversion?”
“It’s not as fun as watching you play, but yeah.” She links her fingers with mine and drags me back to the living room.
“Wait—you watched me?”
“I begrudgingly stared at the TV while you skated around showing off.”
“Good to know.”
The warmth in my chest spreads. Maybe she didn’t hate me as much as she wanted me to believe. I drop onto the couch and open an arm. She hesitates a beat before curling against me, soft and warm.
“We’ve come a long way,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her temple. “No more hating each other.”
She aims the remote at the TV. “I kind of miss hating you. This,” she waves between us, “feels unnatural.”
“Get used to it. It’s our new normal.”
Her mouth curves, and she kisses me. I kiss her back—until a blur of motion on the screen catches my eye. Jason Malone, the right winger for Chicago, propels himself down the ice. He’s always had killer speed and an even more wicked slapshot. Malone is one-on-one with Florida’s goalie. He dekes him and sends the puck into the net. “Yes!”
Brie groans. “I should have known better.” She laughs, shaking her head.
I steal a quick kiss. “Hey, you still get my undivided attention… during commercials.”
“No, no, I did this to myself. But I’m happy right here.” She curls deeper into me.
“I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.” While keeping my gaze locked on the screen, I press another kiss to the top of her head.
By the second period, my eyelids grow heavy. Brie’s curled up next to me. Her soft, rhythmic breathing almost lulling me to sleep. I press a kiss to the top of her head before turning my attention back to the TV. During the next commercial break, I lower my lids for a couple of seconds. I don’t need to watch a boy band sing about laundry detergent.
I lift my eyelids and blink a few times to clear my vision. The TV comes into focus. The game is long gone—replaced by a blender infomercial. Carefully, I lift my arm from around Brie’s shoulders and stretch my limbs.
Brie stirs awake, stretching her arms above her head. “What time is it?”
I check my phone. “Two in the morning. I should probably get going. Chances are high fewer people will see me leaving now than at seven.”
She stretches, sleepy-eyed and gorgeous. “Good idea. Mrs. Emerson across the street loves to spill the tea. I’d rather not give her an overflowing kettle.”
She rises off the couch, and I do the same. We stroll to the foyer, and I put my coat and shoes on. I wrap an arm around her waist, my fingers brushing warm skin where her sweater rides up. “When can I watch hockey with you again? And maybe not fall asleep.”
“My schedule is pretty busy until after Christmas with the festival. Maybe New Year’s?” She smirks.
“You say that as if you don’t think I’ll wait. New Year’s it is.” Her hands rest on my chest. Bending down, I brush my lips over hers. “Good night, Snowflake.”
“Good night, Logan.”
She opens the garage door for me, and I get in my truck and drive home. Living in Mount Holly is getting better and better every day.
Twenty-Eight
You’ve Ruined Me
Brie
I yank open the front door, already late, mostly because after Logan left last night, sleep never came. All I wanted was to curl against him, let the rise and fall of his chest lull me under. Instead, I spent two hours staring at my ceiling, shivering in sheets that suddenly felt much too big.
Before I can step outside, I freeze. Sitting on the “Merry AF” doormat is a perfectly wrapped box—red paper, silver bow, no card. My brows pinch together. I scoop it up, give it a shake. Nothing. Hold it to my ear. Silence. Not even a threatening jingle. I carry it inside and slowly tug at the ribbon, bracing myself for confetti, glitter, or worse, a spring-loaded Santa clown. But it’s none of those. Instead, nestled inside red tissue, is a postcard.
