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

5. Cassie

five

Cassie

I ’m sure someone could make a gif of my reaction to Mack’s announcement, but thankfully no one captures me rearing back in surprise, blinking uncomprehendingly.

Mack can’t skate?

There’s no time to delve into that more because Willow breaks down, wailing about the laundry list of things that had gone wrong and the mile-long to do list.

Hilarie winds up taking control of the situation and demanding everyone put aside anything non-critical to pitch in. Mack takes hold of Willow’s clipboard while Naya whisks the event coordinator away for a break. Then, with the rest of our colleagues, we spend the afternoon putting the finishing touches on the rink, the lights, the decorations under Mack's direction and with Hilarie's approval.

His presence here is a distraction for me. I find myself constantly sneaking peeks at Mack while he wrestles Christmas trees decorated by the local school children into place. While I’m too busy admiring the strength of his big body and willing the buttons on his shirt to pop open to give me another glimpse of his broad chest, I prick my finger with the sharp end of a pin and have to suck the bead of blood with cursing the man.

Then when Christmas music suddenly pumps through the sound system, filling the parking lot with holiday cheer, I look up from affixing a gleaming, bauble-heavy garland to the entrance archway and accidentally drop it when I see Mack swiping the sweat from his brow and high fiving one of the arena sound techs. I have to apologize profusely when the garland swishes dangerously close to knocking Hilarie in the head.

It's clear that my attraction to him needs to be addressed. I can hardly concentrate on anything because my eyes keep seeking him out. I keep looking for him and finding him putting his all into making sure this event comes off without a hitch.

Always ever the team player.

By the time the dark swirl of clouds drifts in hours later, we’re back on track and the enormous chiller machine has been flipped on to get the rink’s ice layer forming overnight.

Most of the rest of the staff have left for the night, but I still have work to do.

“You sticking around?” Naya swipes at her brow and glances around the transformed lot. We’re a lot closer to winter wonderland status than we had been, and she whips out her phone to take a moody, pre-storm photo for our social channels. “I think there are a few more trees inside left to decorate. I know that’s your favorite part.”

“Nah, I have a few more arrangements to make.” My gaze slides over to Mack. He frowns up at the sky, hand extended, feeling for the first droplets of rain that sprinkle down as we make our way to the shelter of the arena. “And plans to iron out about this 3-on-3 showcase I proposed.”

“Proposed?” Naya snorts. “You promised it. I’ve got to go home and dig out my gear and hope it all still fits.”

“It’ll be like a pick-up game or quick scrimmage. At minimum, we can run two lines of three. With the goalies, that means we can operate with eight players per team and only need to get sixteen players together. Twelve if the three of us and Dad play.”

“Dad will love it. He’s not been on the ice with us in forever.” Naya grins. “You know, a couple of the other wives and girlfriends have played, too. I can reach out and see if they’d be up for it if we still need players and they’re not already working one of the booths.”

“Sounds good, sis. Thank you.” I give her a quick hug. “I know it'll be different than previous years, but I think it’ll still be great.”

I hope.

It takes me a few more hours to finish my work. But I hardly notice as the sound of the rain pelting my window mingles with the low murmur of carols as I concentrate. The update from Diego is that the snow is falling fast and heavy, but it may not be quite as bad as they thought. They’ll know more in the morning, but that gives me hope that there may still be a way I can get them home in time.

It’d be a Christmas miracle, but luckily, I believe in making miracles happen.

A soft knock sounds at my door, and I look up, surprised to find Mack dominating the doorway. The hallway lights behind him are dim, but his office lights are still on. Apparently, I’d been so wrapped up in preparation and planning, I hadn’t noticed that I wasn’t alone.

But I notice now.

The top two buttons of his button-down are undone. A light dusting of chest hair is visible in the open vee, making my belly flip over and my fingers long to feel their coarseness. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and, up close, I can see the jagged, puckered scar winding its way down one forearm.

The scar doesn’t detract from the strength I see in them, or effect it has on my body, as he combs his fingers through his dark hair. Heat and arousal build inside me as I squeeze my thighs together under my desk.

“You’re still here.” I lift a brow at him, unable to stop my gaze from traveling over him. I wonder how his knee is holding up, but instead of asking, I blurt out the first word that jumps into my mind. “Why?”

“What, you think that since everyone else went home, I would, too? I’m not looking to leave my teammate alone here.”

“That’s not what I meant. And I’m not alone here. The building has round-the-clock security.”

“You know what I meant. If you’re working this hard to solve this issue, I am, too. I’ve got nine confirmed alums coming. With the prospects, it should be enough for your 3-on-3 showcase, even without me lacing up.” He drops into the chair across from me and smooths a hand over his beard, scratching it into place. It only adds to the sexy, rumpled look he presents, and a memory flashes. Early mornings, late nights. Long conversations had by a lake while we lay hand-in-hand on picnic tables under a starry sky.

Once upon a time, that beard had been patchy and thin. Not quite the thick, glorious mane I want to feel scrape against my skin.

Back then, I confided in him. I’d been open and fearless, less guarded and less cynical about what men wanted from me.

“I mean, you should be resting. It’s been a long day. We’ve all worked hard, and your knee was bothering you earlier. I can’t imagine how much worse it might be now.” I gesture outside, to the cold and wet. Rivulets of water run down the glass, and I don’t miss way he stiffens when he glances outside.

When he looks at me again, he just smiles. “Don’t worry about me, princess. I’ve been through worse. I was just going to put in a dinner order and wondered if you wanted any?”

“Actually, I was just finishing up. Then, I’m heading home for a hot soak and some sleep.” I don’t mention the smutty book on my nightstand or the now-nightly ritual of thinking of him with my hand down my panties.

His smile is gentle, but the tightness around his mouth still remains as his gaze drifts over my shoulder back to my window. “Okay. Dinner dash for one, it is.”

“You’re not still staying, are you?” I ask, frowning. “Surely you can go home now that you’ve got so many skaters confirmed. What else could you possibly need to do?”

He shrugs. “Just waiting out the rain.”

I glance over my shoulder and peer at the downpour behind me.

“But it’s going to rain all night. You’ll be waiting until morning.”

“I’ll call a taxi. It’ll be fine.”

“A taxi?” I repeat, arching a questioning brow at him.

“I don’t drive when it rains,” he says softly. “Not since the accident.”

Shit. I remember reading the articles detailing his accident. It had rained heavily that night. The other driver had been going too fast and lost control before smashing into Mack’s car in what could’ve been a head-on collision. It could’ve ended his life. Instead, Mack swerved and his car got clipped. While the other driver wound up wrapped around a pole, Mack collided with the center divider.

Both survived.

Not without serious injury, but they’d survived when they could’ve both died.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” I shut down my computer, grab my bag and gently nudge him from out of my office. “Get your stuff. I’ll drive you home and we can swing by and grab some food on the way.”

His warm brown eyes bore into mine. “You don’t have to do that, Cassie.”

“Come on, Mack. What are teammates for?”

Soon, we’re on the slick streets of Soltero Beach, driving past Main Street and the boardwalk. The whole time I’m driving, tension radiates off Mack in waves. One hand is wrapped white-knuckled against the car door handle, the other digs into his knee. I play Christmas carols, singing along under my breath and make mindless conversation about all the reasons why I love the season, but it doesn’t distract him from his worry.

He breathes easier after we stop for a quick meal, but still can't seem to relax until I follow his directions and turn onto his street. My eyes grow wide at the enormous light displays, blown up Santas, numerous reindeer, and even fully kitted out sleighs crowding every front yard.

“You live on Christmas row,” I murmur. Every year, the homes on this street decorate their houses from top to bottom. They put on award-winning light shows, attract hundreds of visitors to the town who come to marvel at it all. The town even sponsors hay bale rides and horse-drawn carriages on the weekends to show them all off. “This is the street I’ve always wanted to live on. My dream street.”

“I remember. You told me once. That’s me on the right. Number seven.”

My mouth quirks up as a funny feeling lodges in my chest. “Your old jersey number.”

“Yours too,” he murmurs. “Can’t go wrong with lucky number seven.”

When I cut the engine and look over, his eyes are locked on mine. The flashing lights of his display bathe us both in red, green, blue and gold. Something soft and tender unfurls in my chest knowing that he remembers so many of the dreams I'd whispered to him during our late nights under the stars.

The desire to kiss him here, now, rises up in me, but something still holds me back.

“Why can’t you skate, Mack? You improved so much in that camp we went to. You were skating circles around me by the end of it. It’s a quality that scouts always commented on along with your vision and hockey sense. So, why can’t you do it now? It’s for a good cause.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, princess. I’m just not sure I can.”

My brows raise. “Because of the accident?”

“Yeah. My body isn’t quite how it was.” He sighs, shooting me a sideways look and gripping the bag of leftovers he’d taken from the restaurant.

I look him over, up and down. “You’re still looking strong and sturdy to me.”

Sexy, too .

Mack’s smile is edged with a touch of sadness.

“Why don’t you come on in? I can explain better there.” And when he rises from the passenger seat, I catch a glint of something metallic at his heel.

My heart thuds in my chest as I climb out of the car and follow Mack to his door. There’s something in how he takes his steps, how he seems to shift his weight around for balance. Almost as if he’s having to compensate.

Once we’re inside and he kicks off his shoes, I see why.

Mack only has one leg.