It’s Mother-Pucking Christmas!

5. Dakota

5

DAKOTA

T he Icebreakers started practice early.

I did not start anything early.

Gracie did, however.

“Why are you up already? It’s practically Christmas. Relax.”

“It’s several weeks away,” Gracie said as she slid a perfectly golden triangle of French toast onto my plate.

Christmas carols blared from the speakers, and the pugs bounced around at her feet. I scooped strawberries onto my plate and added nutmeg whipped cream.

“Thanks for bringing the pugs back home,” my cousin said, adding dark chocolate shavings to my breakfast. “But you should have stayed and snagged a hockey player. Kidding!” she added before I could protest. “You’re a hardcore Arctic Avengers fan, I know. Maybe you could go after one of their players?”

“I just need a basic man in finance.”

“Maybe Santa will bring you one for Christmas.” She tested the vanilla bean custard sauce. “Yum!” She licked the rest off the spoon and tossed it in the sink. “I’m surprised you stayed the whole game.”

“I—”

Gracie and I told each other everything. But our family was enmeshed. If I told her the truth about Timmy, she’d have to tell Hudson, and Hudson was hired to protect Ryder. He’d tackle me or something, and my mom would find out, and Timmy and I wouldn’t get a Christmas this year.

“You’re right. He does have those blue eyes.”

“I knew you thought he was hot.” Gracie beamed.

“I mean, I don’t think. I know. I just have a problem that he’s on the rival team.”

“Hate sex can be great sex!”

I threw a strawberry at her. “I thought about it last night, and I’m going to try and see if I can convince Ryder to hook up.”

“Ooh!” Gracie grinned. “Go, girl! What’s your plan?”

“Um, I don’t know. I guess just show up at his practice and ask him if he wants to bang?”

It was a bad plan.

Contrary to popular belief, I can admit when I’m wrong.

I was not the only girl who wanted the handsome hockey captain’s attention. Half of the eligible and not-so-eligible women in Maplewood Falls had turned out. And they were dressed way better than me.

“You can’t go in there. The team’s practicing,” one of the security guards barked when I tried to open the rink door by the locker rooms.

“I left my purse in there last night,” I lied.

“Get it after practice.”

Dammit. The things I do for my brother.

Maybe I should go home and change though.

The other girls were wearing skimpy outfits with platform stilettoes like it wasn’t a million degrees below zero outside. Their hair and makeup were Instagram-model perfect. Meanwhile I was bundled in multiple sweaters and snow pants and was wearing yesterday’s mascara. There was no way Ryder was going to compromise his morals or whatever for me.

The puck bunnies all snickered when I turned to leave.

“Hey!” a man yelled.

The puck bunnies went wild.

“Ryder!”

“I want to have your baby!”

The security guard shooed them away from the huge hockey player.

“Did you take over the stalking from your grandmother, Dakota?” a deep voice demanded.

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to him. “You disappointed that it was an eighty-year-old woman writing you notes about sticking things up your butt?”

“Are you always this foulmouthed?” The blue eyes narrowed.

Some of the girls had phones out, live streaming my terrible decision-making skills. Ryder noticed and grabbed my arm. My breath caught as he practically carried me inside the stadium.

The doors slammed behind us, and we stood in the foyer, which was newly decorated with Ryder’s face and Icebreakers colors.

“Wow.” I whistled. “So you’re not only a prude, you’re a narcissist too.”

“Did you just roll out of bed and decide to insult me on your day off?”

“I remote work, buddy.” I tried not to be intimidated being this close to him in the foyer that the architect really should have designed to be a lot bigger if all these men were going to be hanging around.

Ryder had just finished a hockey workout. His T-shirt was plastered against rippling muscles, his hair damp from a shower. Also why did he smell… not bad? Like, good. He smelled good, okay? He should smell like feet and gym socks not… like a winter forest.

“I’d hit that.”

“What?” He recoiled.

“I said I’d hit that,” I enunciated. “Yesterday I was like ‘No way,’ but I think I could put aside my absolute hatred of your team and fuck you.”

“Don’t use that word.”

“Fuck,” I said slowly. “I want to fuck you. Well, I want you to fuck me. But I will stick stuff up your butt if you really want me to.”

His eyes widened in horror.

“Don’t make that face. We should hook up.”

“Get in line,” he muttered then seemed shocked that he’d said it.

“Asshole,” I said just to needle him.

He looked guilty, then he rallied. “You’re the one who wants casual sex.”

“Now you’re slut-shaming me?” I shot at him, just to throw him off-balance.

“No!” He raised his hands defensively. “That not what I meant. That’s—I’m not—women have a right to use their bodies how they want.”

“And I want you to use mine how you want.” I waggled my eyebrows at him.

“No, thank you! I’m not shaming you,” he sputtered. “I just believe in being in a committed relationship before engaging in… before doing…”

“Fucking. You want to wait to fuck until you’re married? What kind of hockey captain are you?” I demanded. “Where’s the binge drinking, the blackout-drunk sex, the bar fights over women? Half those girls out there should be preggo by now.”

“I am not like that.” He turned on me, blue eyes going dark. “I don’t treat people like objects. Lots of players use hockey as an excuse to behave badly, to put aside their morals. I don’t, and I’m offended that you’re insinuating that I do.”

“I’m not calling you immoral. I’m just calling you an uptight fucking Boy Scout.”

“I’m not that uptight. I just think people should be exclusive and at least know each other’s names. Maybe go on a date first? Old-fashioned, I know.”

“Barf.”

“Better than not being marriage material,” he shot back.

“Go to hell.” I flipped off Ryder O’Connell for the second time in twenty-four hours.

I’d have to find a different way to save my brother.