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

4. Mack

four

Mack

W e work in a focused frenzy. Something about a situation with elevated stakes narrows my focus and centers me.

The same thing used to happen to me on the ice. In make-or-break situations, I was the someone who my team could count on to keep a level head and make smart plays. My future had been so bright until it was abruptly ended.

But as I look at Cassie through the glass of my office wall, I see the same kind of focus kicking into drive for her. It reminds me so much of the player she’d been, how hard she went after each of her goals. How much heart and pride she put into everything she did.

At camp, I remember thinking, there’s a woman who didn’t let anyone stop her from doing what she wanted.

A power forward, small but mighty. Fast as lightning, and strong on her skates. Fearless. An on-ice bulldog and an off-ice pussy cat. She threw her weight around and crashed the net with gusto, then after, she’d flash me flirtatious smiles, make jokes, and lure me in with her catch me if you can energy.

Oh, I tried to resist. Tried to keep things friendly.

It’s the same play I’d used on every other girl who’d ever showed interest in me, but Cassie was undeterred.

She’d seek me out and press my every button until eventually, we were spending every night hanging out under the star-dusted sky. She’d tell me about her family, her dreams, her life. As her eyes twinkled with the constellations, her hand would reach for mine.

And when she’d fit her fingers to mine, I knew.

She was dangerous. The thing burning between us was live and unwieldy, uncontrollable.

And I needed control. Safety.

But above all, I knew she was mine. I just couldn’t have her. So I let her go, watched from afar as her star rose ever higher. Kept tabs as her college playing days ended and her Olympic dreams faded, but she found a place in sports anyway.

And fuck, I loved watching her do it.

Just as I love watching her work with single-minded focus now.

In the office across from me, her fingers fly across the keyboard. I have a hard time not staring at her holiday sweater today. She seems to have a different one for every day of the week, but today, it's green with a gingerbread man missing a leg and the icing spelling out the words Bite Me. But as she shoves her sleeves up her arms, I note how her brows knit in the middle. Frustration evident in the tightness of her jaw, the hitch of her shoulders, the heavy sighs she keeps making.

She crams another gingersnap into her mouth, chomping noisily.

I fire off the group text to the Scorpions alumni groups and cross off the last name on the roster of guys still in the area. I’ve still got a few more calls to make and a couple SOS’s to send out before I can feel confident in our contingency plan, but I sense that my girl needs me.

So I head to the break room and whip up two cups of hot chocolate, complete with a small mountain of whipped cream and marshmallows. I return to place it on her desk and she barely glances up at me.

“They’re better if you dip them in a hot drink. Softens them up.”

Her head snaps up and she blinks, her eyes slightly unfocused and her mouth turned down.

“What?”

“The gingersnaps. Try dunking them in a hot drink.” I reach for the tin and snatch one out. Then I dip it into my own and take a bite. The spice hits, warmed by the chocolate, and this time, I don’t cough from the shock of it. “You’re looking stressed, princess. Time for a break. Gimme an update.”

She lifts her arms above her head in a wide stretch, and I fight to ignore the way her breasts shift under her sweater with the movement. Another heavy sigh escapes her as she twists and turns in the chair and I remember what it was like to have her beside me in bed, when I’d nudge her awake and tell her it was nearly time for us to be at the rink. My cock tightens in my pants even as I lean against her desk and sip my drink, hoping if I scald my tongue it will redirect my bloodflow.

“Well, it’s the holidays. Flights are pretty full and the cost is exorbitant. I hate to say it, but trying to get twenty-plus guys back on short notice is almost impossible.” She makes a face, then reaches for the mug. “The budget might not be in my favor, so now I’m having to pick and choose who I can definitely get here and who I can maybe get here. So far, I can get half of them here. How’s it looking on your end?” She lifts the mug in a mock toast. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

Then I splutter, choking on chocolate, as she leans in and laps at the cream. Her tongue slides through the creamy white mountain, curling up to the peak where she closes her mouth over it. White rims her lips and her eyelids flutter closed as she licks her mouth to catch it all, a little hungry moan humming in her throat.

Kill me now.

My grip tightens around my mug, willing it not to shatter as my cock pulses against my zipper, fighting to burst free.

I clear my throat. The sound loud in her office, drowning out the low jingle of Christmas music filtering through her computer speakers.

She blinks innocently, awaiting my answer to a question I’ve already forgotten.

“Uh, what about my end?”

“Have you rounded up all the alumni?”

Right. Alumni. Operation save the festive fundraiser.

“Yeah, I’ve called everyone off the roster and left messages for them all. I’ve also called your dad and sent out an SOS to the group chat. I’m planning on reaching out to the WAGs in case there’s anyone I missed or if they’re still in contact with other hockey families in the area.”

“Great. How many players are coming?”

“Including me and your dad? Four confirmed. Six, likely. But I’m aiming for nine. A dirty dozen if I can swing it.” I can’t take my eyes off the corner of her mouth, where a dollop of cream sits. Reaching over, I whisk it away with my thumb while she stares at me. “I know it’s not quite the turnout we’d been hoping for, but we can make it work. Will it be enough?”

“It’s the best we can do,” she whispers, gaze sliding to my mouth.

“It’ll have to be enough.”

The moment stretches between us, and I find myself leaning forward, tipping her chin up.

Then a loud crash sounds from outside, making us both jump. Shouts follow and we peer out of her window to see the outdoor rink has collapsed on one side.

With a wordless glance, Cassie and I hurry from her office. By the time we get to the parking lot, it seems half the internal staff have ventured outside to gawk.

While all the market stalls are set up and the tables await their vendors, the central rink has partially collapsed and one of the artificial snow machines is spewing forth fake snow in a long, arcing stream.

Hilarie barks directions, trying to get the crew to right the rink and shut down the snow spray. The woman on the verge of tears with a death grip on a clipboard and a snapped pencil in her fist as she surveys the damage with wide, horror-filled eyes must be the event manager, Willow.

Without hesitation, Cassie and I spring into action. I head for the crew while she searches for a way to turn off the snowmaker. With the final snow sprays settling over us, I help the guys get the boards in place and secure them together.

“What happened?” Naya shouts, bursting from the arena and running over.

“It’s a disaster!” Willow answers, her voice shrill and hands trembling. “Everything is a disaster. Parts were missing, the wrong boards were received and I don't have time to wait for the right ones, so we're going with these ones. We have fewer snow machines than we expected. And we got a late start, but now it's going to be even later, so we’re in danger of the ice not freezing over in time.”

“The rink might not matter so much if the guys aren’t going be here for the free skate, anyway,” Naya says.

“ What? ” Willow’s eyes nearly pop out of her head as she turns to Naya. “What do you mean the guys aren’t going to be here?”

Hilarie winces. “The team’s stuck in Minnesota. A bad storm.”

“ They’re not coming?” she screeches. “Hanging out with the team is what brings the public here. Without them present, why would anyone come?”

I step up, seeing the wild panic welling up in Willow’s eyes as she rounds on Hilarie. “You mean besides the fact that it’s a cheery Christmas market event with handmade goods, crafts and food that will benefit a good community cause?”

She nods, doubt creeping into her eyes.

“Because they’re Scorpions fans,” Cassie says. “And this is still a Scorpions festive family fun event.”

“You’ll still have Scorpions players here to help, even if they’re not members of the current roster. Cassie and me,” I gesture to Cassie, drawing Willow’s eye and speaking with a calm, authoritative voice. “We’ve been working all morning to bring alumni and the prospects from our farm team together. Ten of our best future hockey stars will be on the first flight out of Oakland, right, Cass?”

“They’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning.” She keeps her voice soothing as she offers up a reassuring smile. Then she points to the rink. “Were you after a public skating rink with low boards rather than a hockey rink with extended Plexiglass?”

“Yes,” Willow grits out, scrubbing her face.

“Then this isn’t a disaster.” Cassie beams at me. “This is a stroke of genius.”

Willow frowns while Hilarie raises a questioning brow.

“How?”

I’m wondering the same thing and worrying that Cassie’s laying on the comfort a little thicker than necessary. But then she reaches over and slips her hand into mine.

Warmth spreads through me as I stare at our linked hands, marveling at the simple contact and the softness of her skin against mine.

Then she beckons for her sister to come forward and grabs hold of her hand, too. Turning back to the weary-eyed Willow and the gathering crowd of curious coworkers, Cassie announces, “The three of us can take to the ice alongside the players who join us tomorrow for a friendly, low-contact 3-on-3 showcase. Mixed gender, mixed ability, mixing old school pros, new school pros, and amateurs.”

My beautiful, can-do princess stands defiant, looking hopeful and proud. Her brilliant smile stretches so wide that breaks my heart when I tug her closer and whisper in her ear.

“Cassie, I can’t skate.”