Dad Bod Under the Mistletoe (Dad Bod Christmas #2)

2. Mack

two

Mack

I t’s lunchtime before I’m back in my office with a functional laptop, an activated keycard, and a shiny new profile published on the social media channels and team website.

Despite it being my first day, I’m rearing to make an impact on the organization right from the jump. After all, it’s the least I could do after going out of my way to push for the role to be created just for me.

That means I’ve signed myself up to help with the annual festive fundraiser, thrown my name into the office secret Santa office mix, and scheduled a slew of meetings to get to know to the coaching staff and players as soon as they’re back from their ten-day stretch of road games along the East Coast and Midwest.

I’ve only got six months on my contract. Six months to show the Scorpions General Manager that my unique player perspective can help guys on the team navigate the tricky jumps from amateur to pro, from minor league pro to big league pro, and from the regimented professional grind to post-hockey life.

And ever since my career-ending accident, I know to make the most of my opportunities.

It’s been the single biggest change in my life since I hobbled out of the rehabilitation center for the last time. My recovery went on for much longer than that as I dealt with the fallout of having my whole life upended while the ensuing trial against the driver responsible for smashing into my vehicle dragged on and on and on.

But I’ve put it behind me.

While I floundered for a few years, my spirits dipping dangerously low while I worked my way through why me and over to what next ? I eventually came to the realization that I’d been given a priceless gift.

A second chance at living my life.

So, since then, I decided to stop living in fear, stop trying to play it so damn safe all the time.

Because living that way sure did fuck all to save me when I was staring down the headlights of an out-of-control oncoming car going top speed on the freeway. The only thing that spared me was luck and my own damn instincts.

Pure raw instinct.

The same instinct that screams Cassie De La Cruz is made for me. That her smart, sassy mouth and every sexy curve belong to me.

I’d been a colossal fool when I’d passed up the opportunity to be with her that summer we spent at a hockey skating skills camp in Montana. But the whole reason I came here to work with the Scorpions is because this is my chance to chase the One Who Got Away.

And I intend to give it my all.

Striding to her door, I find her bent over in half, rounded ass held high and long, shapely legs tapering into scarlet high heels that have bells on the toes.

Goddamn. Blood flows directly to my dick, and I stiffen instantly. My palms itch to reach over and give her a playful little smack on the ass like I used to when we were in hockey camp. But judging from the frosty reception she’d given me earlier, not to mention the whole harassment training I’d just suffered through in orientation, a move like that would be more likely to get my ass fired.

She digs around in the bottom cabinet of her desk, muttering to herself while I will my cock to stand down. Tucking my hands into my pockets, I lean against the door jamb and take a look around.

Her office is dripping in Christmas decorations, lights rimming the edges of her windows and fake snow covering her desk. Plastic snowflakes and miniature shiny presents twine around green garlands. In the far corner, there’s a fully dressed and decorated Christmas tree complete with tinsel, baubles, lights, and a single gleaming star on top. I tear my gaze from her ass long enough to look up and spy the mistletoe hanging above her door.

Well, if there’s one thing Cassie loves more than hockey, I know it’s Christmas.

“What a view.”

She jumps, yelping as her head hits the underside of her desk. “ Ow!”

I’m by her side in an instant, nudging her into her desk chair and gently probing her head with my hands, feeling for a lump and trying to ease the ache.

“You okay, princess?” I murmur, noticing how silky soft her hair feels between my fingers. The sweet berry scent of her shampoo floats up my nostrils and damn, if my cock doesn’t bounce right back up.

“F-fine. I’m fine.” Her expressive brown eyes flare for a moment before sliding closed. For a second, she leans into my touch, into the feel of my hands against her scalp, but then she recovers. She pushes my hand aside, smoothing her hair down and rolling her chair back to create distance between us. “What are you doing, you walking HR violation? I’m not your princess.”

I bark out a sharp laugh and let my gaze fall to her full, pouty lips.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I still think of you as the pretty little princess who pranced around the rink in the tiniest of skirts with your dad’s name plastered on the back of your T-shirt.” I rub my chin thoughtfully and drop my voice. “The same princess who snuck into my hotel room and snuggled up to me every night for two weeks and asked me to violate her .”

She springs up, all her bells ringing as the chair clatters against the wall. Eyes blazing, cheeks pink, she steps up to my face.

“That was a long time ago. Turns out just because you didn’t want me didn’t mean other men didn’t.”

The barb lands, the sting smarting in the center of my chest.

“Let’s be honest, princess. They weren’t men, they were boys.” I rake my gaze down her body. Note the enormous size of her pupils. The shallow rise and fall of her heaving chest. The press of her thighs under the skin-tight scarlet skirt she’s wearing. All of it wars with the irritation in her voice, the daggers in her eyes. “If you let me, I’m willing to prove it.”

“Forget it, Mack. You had your chance. You blew it.”

“I know I did. I’ve regretted it every day of my life since then.” The admission flies from my lips, and her eyes widen with shock.

“Right. You expect me to believe that?”

Disbelief clouds her eyes as she tries to push past me, but I snatch her wrist and whirl her around.

“It’s been almost ten years since Montana.” I crowd her against the desk, her face inches from my own. Her full, luscious lips part on a gasp as her gaze roams over my face and locks on my mouth. “A lot’s changed.”

“Like what?”

“Everything. My entire worldview. My approach to life. My appreciation for what this world has to offer.”

“Convenient,” she snaps, wrenching from my grasp and pushing past me.

“That’s what almost dying can do for you, you know? Makes you see things more clearly.”

She flinches. The fight in her eyes dims and the tip of her pink tongue runs across her bottom lip as she searches for something to say.

“I was glad to see that you survived.” Her voice is soft and her brown eyes are clear. “But there is still such a thing as too little, too late.”

She bends down again, reaching into the drawer to free an enormous set of reindeer horns from where it’d been tangled.

“Don’t you even want to know why I turned you down?”

“No. You made it clear you weren’t interested. I found someone who was, and with one simple text, I can find another.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing all this time? Looking for someone else while you avoided me?”

“I… I wasn’t avoiding you.”

Liar.

“No? What do you call it when someone immediately turns tail and runs in the opposite direction of you every time you saw them?”

She affixes the antler headband to her head and huffs out a breath. “It’s not always about you, okay? Maybe I had work to do. Or I forgot my keys. Or I had a sudden urgent need for the bathroom. What’s it to you, anyway? It’s not like you care.”

She stalks to the door.

“That’s where you’re wrong, princess. I care a helluva lot. More than you know.”

She stops just under the mistletoe, but I know better than to try anything with her right now.

Instead, I walk up behind her, my hands firmly tucked into my pockets.

“You know you deserve the fucking world on a platter, right? Not just a fun few hours or a situationship that can only temporarily meet your needs, but misses on all the others. You deserve a man who will treasure you. Who will treat you like the goddamn queen you are. Who will give you everything you want and then go and get you more.”

She clears her throat, turning her head slightly in my direction. “Know anyone like that?”

I sweep the hair from her neck and watch it fall back into place as I lean forward, my lips inches from her ear.

“Me.”

“Big talk from the big man, huh?” She turns to face me, her hands playing with the edges of my collar before coming to a rest over my chest. Those warm brown eyes of hers flutter at me and my cock strains against the zipper of my pants. “Too bad I know for a fact that you’re all talk and no action, Tate. Like Shakira, these hips don’t lie, and you sure as fuck didn’t move them.”

“We can change that, princess. Any time you want.”

She inclines her head. “Not. Interested.”

“You sure about that?” I settle my hands on her hips and squeeze past her into the deserted hallway. I don’t miss the flare of arousal in her wide pupils or the way her hard nipples slide against my chest.

She curses as the movement activates her sweater and a cheery, “HO HO HO! MERRY CHRISTMAS!” rings out loud and clear.

“If I catch you under the mistletoe again, princess, I’ll give you the kiss I should’ve given you years ago, and I might not stop there.”

“Do the words ‘walking HR violation’ not mean anything to you?”

I shrug. “So report me. Sue me. Get my contract canceled. None of it matters more than getting what I came here for. My Christmas wish, if you will.”

She frowns. “And what’s that exactly?”

“A second chance with the One Who Got Away.”