A Very Grumpy Lumberjack Christmas

22. Luke

22

LUKE

T he puck comes at me like a missile…

Straight at my damn head.

“Shit!”

I barely have time to dive out of the way, into the snowbank to the right of the cleared ice and out of the path of the projectile.

What the hell was that?

My heart thunders against my ribcage, and Noel’s laughter fills my ears as the icy, wet, cold snow hits the back of my neck and sloshes down into my jacket slightly.

I stare up at the bright morning sky and thin, wispy clouds, trying to regain my breath and calm my heart rate so I don’t have a damn coronary event.

The sound of her skates cutting across the ice hits me, and she leans over, a smug-as-fuck grin curling her perfect lips. She props the stick on the smooth surface under her, blade up, and leans against it casually, as if she didn’t just send a wicked rocket at me. “I warned you…”

Apparently, I should have listened.

“Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that? ”

We spent nearly two decades out on this lake, messing around, shooting pucks at each other, not to mention the fun pick-up games at the rink in the town square around Christmas, and she definitely couldn’t do that when she left Mistletoe.

Not anything near it.

It’s impressive.

And sexy as fuck.

But I won’t tell her that.

That would only boost her ego.

Given the smug smirk directed at me, she doesn’t need any help in that department right now.

The woman showed me up, and she’s reveling in her victory.

She offers me a hand to help pull me up, but I grumble and wave her off, climbing from the snowbank to dust myself off. Skating backward away from me, still chuckling to herself, she watches with amusement, knowing full well that I got snow down the back of my jacket in that fall.

Noel always had a vicious side, and her competitive nature is one of the reasons I fell so hard for her.

Never backing down from anything.

Standing her ground.

She moves out into the center of the ice and does an elegant upright spin, still clutching the stick in her hands—looking like a damn ice princess, not the woman who almost beheaded me with a puck.

“I knew you could do that ”—I motion toward her as she stops the spin—“but that ”—I point toward where I’d been standing when she took aim and fired—“is new.”

Noel grins, twirling the stick. “Not that new.”

Why is this woman being so smug so fucking hot?

Because she loves a challenge.

And I gave her one that she succeeded at .

Fighting a grin, I glance back at the fake goal. “I don’t think you can do it again…”

One of her blond brows rises slowly. “That wasn’t proof enough for you?”

I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. “Beginner’s luck.”

I’m poking the bear.

Maybe it isn’t smart.

But Noel all fired up is the only thing hotter than Noel naked.

She huffs in annoyance, clenching her jaw. “I’m not a beginner. I’ve been out on the ice with the team a lot.”

My back stiffens slightly, imagining her receiving private lessons from some of the players, the type of private lessons I definitely don’t want anyone else giving her.

Noel seems to sense my unease and skates away, making a loop around the portion of the ice I’ve cleared before she comes to a stop in front of me, spraying me with slush and ice.

“I see you learned the hockey stop, too.”

A grin plays at her lips. “Perks of the job.”

I don’t want to know what other perks she gets.

I’ve seen what those players look like, and they’re all billionaires…

Any one of them can offer her things I never could—and in the same fucking city.

I swallow my annoyance, not wanting to ruin my last few hours with her, but it’s difficult with this new feeling hitting me.

They may call me the Grinch, but one thing I’ve never been is green with jealousy when it came to Noel. I never had a reason to be. She was always mine. When we were together, she never so much as looked at anyone else. And when she left, it wasn’t because of another man.

But now, the thought that anyone else has been touching her, has been having these types of experiences with her—on the ice and in the bedroom—makes my gut twist violently.

She holds out the stick. “Do you want a turn?”

I shake my head. “No. I want you to prove you can do it again.”

Nodding, she examines the make-shift, drawn goal. “Okay. How many times do you want me to do it? Two, three, four?”

She inches closer until our chests brush, and she pulls on the front of my jacket until I dip my head down low enough for her to press her lips to mine. “How about ten?”

“That’s a pretty big number.”

Her grip on my jacket tightens, tugging me even closer. “That’s how many times you fucked me in the last day and a half.”

I grin as I slowly pull my head back from her. “Is it?”

She nods, pulling her bottom lip under her teeth.

“I didn’t know you were keeping track.”

Her brows rise. “You weren’t?”

I chuckle. “I was keeping track of orgasms, Snowflake. Not times we had sex.”

Gripping the stick in her mittened hand, she leans against it, her mouth twisting as if she’s trying to count in her head. “How many did you have?”

Good God, she’s adorable.

I bark out a laugh, then tug her up against me again, utterly devouring her mouth and stealing her breath so that by the time I pull away, she’s panting. “I was counting your orgasms, Snowflake. Not mine.”

And there weren’t nearly enough.

If I hadn’t held myself back, forced myself not to touch her every single moment we were together, the number would be astronomical .

Because absolutely nothing compares to the beauty of Noel Jolly coming.

Anywhere.

Any way.

That bliss floating across her face.

The way her mouth falls open.

Those little gasps and strangled moans that slip from her lips.

All of it is as addictive as the woman herself.

“Oh, do you know how many?” She waggles her eyebrows playfully. “Honestly, I lost count just the first night in front of the fire.”

Pride swells in my chest.

Probably far more than it should.

I dip my head and tug her ear between my teeth, biting down gently, making her twitch in my hold. “Twenty-three.”

She jerks back. “No.”

Nodding, I drag her back with a hand at her nape so I can keep my lips against her cheek. “I made you come twenty-three times on my cock, in my mouth, on my fingers. But you want to know what my favorite one was?”

Noel shivers, though I doubt it has anything to do with the chilly air around us.

“Yes…”

I kiss my way to her mouth, stopping with my lips hovering just over hers. “The one where I could taste both of us as you came down my throat.”

Fuck .

Just saying the words is enough to make my cock strain against my jeans.

I’ve never done that before.

Never wanted to.

But in that moment with Noel, I needed it.

I never realized how hot it would be to know what we tasted like together. And it was perfect, just like she is.

Another brilliant memory I’m going to have to survive off once she goes home.

“Maybe we’ll have time to do it again before you have to go back to your mom’s.”

She grins and presses a kiss to my lips. “A girl can dream.”

So can I.

And I have for eight fucking years.

Every night.

Every time I close my eyes—and sometimes when I don’t.

It’s all been this woman.

I woke too many times to count with my hard cock in my hand, thinking about her. Had nightmares where I was screaming, chasing her down the road, begging her not to leave. Even times when I woke in tears, wishing I had said or done something else to make her stay. Each and every one of them was filled with so much regret, so much pain and remembered pleasure.

Now I’ve replaced some of them with the memories we’ve made over the last few days, but those will soon be tainted.

As soon as she leaves again, that agony of watching her drive away will hit me harder than the blizzard did Mistletoe.

But I don’t want to get bogged down in that misery now.

I shake off that thought. “But first, Snowflake, I want to see you take that shot again.”

She pushes away from me and skates backward. “If you insist.”

The way she moves so effortlessly across the ice, looks so at home out here on the lake, it’s impossible to think about her being somewhere like Toronto.

So much pavement.

So many people .

Any time she spends on ice is likely inside an arena, not like this, surrounded by rolling hills, a flawless sky, and a hawk soaring over us.

I track the massive bird, watching it float on the light breeze through the flurries. It spirals down suddenly, swooping toward the trees until I lose it in the tall pines.

Probably catching its breakfast.

Hopefully not that rabbit Noel seemed so concerned about that night.

Noel returns with the puck in hand, and I glance over to where it had disappeared into the snowbank behind where I had been standing and see a massive hole from where she stuck her hand down to get it back.

She waves it at me. “You really want to risk your pretty face?”

Grinning, I skate toward her. “You think I’m pretty?”

Snorting, she tosses it onto the ice and offers me an incredulous look. “You know what you look like, Luke.”

She puck handles, moving the biscuit effortlessly back and forth on the ice.

Shit, somebody really has been teaching her.

“I’m sure part of the reason all the women in Mistletoe gossip so much about you is because they’re all pissed that I was finally out of the picture and it didn’t make you available since you keep yourself locked up in the cabin.”

I freeze where I stand, skidding to a halt on the ice, and she looks up at me with amusement in her eyes that instantly vanishes when she realizes what she just said.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Luke. I didn’t mean to suggest…” She swallows thickly. “I mean, I know you weren’t single the whole time I was gone. You must have dated. You must have…”

She doesn’t complete the sentence, but she doesn’t have to.

I raise a brow. “Fucked?”

This was a conversation I never wanted to have with her because it brings up the inevitable question of who she’s been with since we’ve been apart, and I don’t want to know the answer to that.

But the longer she stares at me, the more I know it will be impossible to hide the truth from her.

Because I could never lie to her, and I never have.

Not in our thirty years on this planet.

And I’m not about to start now.

“There wasn’t anyone else, Noel.”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean? You didn’t have any serious relationships?”

Shaking my head, I take a long, deep breath. “No, there was no one. Ever .”

It takes a second before her eyes widen and her mouth falls open slightly. She seems to realize it and snaps it closed. “You don’t mean this whole time, you didn’t…”

I clench my jaw, trying not to see the pained look on her face, the way her eyes rake over me, like she’s seeing me for the first time when we’ve been almost nothing but naked with each other for two days. “No one.” I fist my hands at my sides. “I couldn’t bear the thought of being with anyone else, of touching anyone else, or letting them touch me. The whole thing…”—I swallow—“the whole thing repulsed me.”

“But it’s been eight years, Luke, that’s not—”

“What?”

“Healthy.”

She snaps her mouth shut again. Her cheeks pinken, though I don’t know whether it’s from the chilly air or embarrassment over what I’m revealing.

I slowly skate toward her. “Does it really surprise you that much? I told you time and time again that I was always yours— forever. Did you actually think that changed just because you went to Canada?”

Noel squeezes her eyes closed, gripping the stick so tightly I can almost hear it starting to crack. Her body trembles, and when her lids flutter open again and her gaze flicks up to me at mine, I see the truth there.

She didn’t believe it.

Maybe she did at some point, when we were actually together, but after that night, she thought I had moved on. She believed I had forgotten about her and the promises I made to her.

And even after everything I’ve told her over the last few days, she still didn’t understand what I was saying.

I reach out and tip her chin up, forcing her to look me square in the eye. “I have always loved you, Noel, and I still do.”

It’s the admission I’ve been holding back for the last two days, the thing I’ve been terrified to admit to myself and certainly to her.

When I know she is going to leave again.

When I know she’s going to break my heart.

When I know I’m going to end up in exactly the same place I was eight years ago, standing at the base of my fucking driveway and watching her tear off down the road.

I watch her stare at me, the surprise and regret in her gaze.

It was a mistake to tell her.

Because now that it’s out there, I can’t ever take it back.