Mistletoe Face Off (Chicago Blizzard Hockey #1)

Chapter 9Holly

Chapter Nine

Holly

Later that afternoon I pick up an excited Macy from school on our way to meet Harrison at the Caulfield Skating Rink.

“How was your day, honey?” I ask as we inch along the street in heavy school traffic.

“Mrs. Barouche told me I'm doing so well in reading that she's moved me up into another reading group.”

“Oh, honey! That's wonderful news.” I look at her reflection in the rearview mirror to see her beaming with pride. “You know what I think that deserves?”

“Mac and cheese for dinner?” she asks hopefully.

“Mac and cheese for dinner,” I confirm, grateful I thought to make a larger batch last time and freeze enough for an extra dinner for two.

Mac and cheese is Macy's favorite meal, and I find myself making it more often than not when her dad fails to turn up with whatever flimsy excuse he's giving this time. Really, it's incredible she still likes the dish considering she probably associates it with feeling let down by someone she loves.

I know Phil lives in Denver these days, thanks to signing with the Thunderwolves when Macy was only two, but he comes to town to play the Blizzard often enough as they’re part of the Central Division in the NHL Eastern Conference. And besides, the hockey season doesn’t run all year. He could come visit her way more often than he does.

It begins to snow as we arrive at the ice rink, and I park my car next to a shiny black Mercedes SUV. I don't know a whole lot about cars, but I can tell this one is expensive, and next to my beat up old Toyota, it’s next level in the luxury stakes. We bundle up against the cold, dash across the parking lot, and into the rink. The place is buzzing with plenty of skaters out on the ice, Christmas songs blasting over the sound system, decorations adorning the ceiling and walls, complete with a Christmas tree, covered in lights.

“Mommy, it's so beautiful!” Macy exclaims, and I've got to agree with her. The place looks like a Christmas wonderland, right down to the line of reindeer positioned along the side of the ice.

It doesn't take long to spot Harrison, mainly because he's a good head taller than most people, but also because he stands out so clearly to me. When my eyes land on his I get that familiar thrill in my belly, and I've got to remind myself that all that's happened between us is a tiny bit of flirting and nothing more, just as Selena said.

Which is the way it should stay—even if there’s a part of me that would like it to be more.

He’s a hockey pro, and I know all too well what those guys are like.

“Hello, you two,” he says in greeting.

“Hi,” I reply as I throw my eyes over him. Like us, he's bundled up against the cold, a hat pulled down low across his forehead. His ocean green eyes are sparkling as his face lifts into the smile that always seems to make me feel like a teenage girl again, stealing glances at him in study hall, wishing he could be mine.

“Hi, Harry,” Macy says brightly. “Where's your Santa suit?”

“I left it in the sleigh. I didn't want to get mobbed by kids,” he replies.

“Is that a common problem for you when you're dressed as Santa?” I ask.

“It happens all the time. That's why I need to dress like a regular person.”

There’s nothing much regular about this particular person, that’s for sure.

“But you are a regular normal person,” my daughter insists with a giggle, winning another smile from Harrison.

“You’re so right, Macy. I’m as regular as they come.”

“Thank you so much for doing this,” I say. “I know you're busy and we really appreciate it. Don't we, honey?”

Macy nods, her face lit up in a smile.

He gestures at the ice skate boot hire station. “Let's go get some boots. Will you be skating today too, Holly?”

“Of course. Not that I'm anywhere near as good as you. When did you learn to skate like that?” I ask as we make our way over to the station.

“A lifetime ago,” he replies elusively.

I’m not going to push him. I’m not here as a reporter today, and the guy’s doing me and Macy a favor.

We hire skates and sit down at the edge of the ice to lace them up while the music plays, creating a fun and festive atmosphere.

Harry is the first to be ready, probably thanks to the fact he wears hockey skates most days of his life. “Who's ready to get out there and have some fun?” he asks.

I bounce up, trying to be as positive as I can to encourage Macy to take that final step out onto the ice today—both literally and metaphorically. “Just try and stop me!” I exclaim.

“Just try and stop me!” Macy echoes, and I take her hand, walking gingerly on our skates as I lead her to the edge of the ice with Harrison.

He immediately steps onto the gleaming white surface and turns to face us. With his arms outstretched toward Macy, he says, “Last one on the ice is a chicken.”

“I sure don't want to be a chicken. Do you, honey?” I say.

Macy's face has gone as white as a sheet, and I just know what's coming next.

“I don't know if I want to,” she says haltingly.

I crouch down beside her. “Are you sure?”

“I don't know.”

I pull her into a hug. “It's okay if you don't want to try it today. We can go home and have some mac and cheese.”

I pull back and look into her face. It's twisted up in anxiety, and my heart squeezes for my little girl. “It's okay, sweetie,” I say once more as I pull her in for another hug. “It's no big deal. If you don't want to skate today, we’ll come another day. Or not at all. It’s totally up to you.”

To my total surprise, she lets out a light, gurgling laugh, and I look back at her to see her face has transformed as she watches something over my shoulder. I turn to see Harry playing the fool on the ice. He's pretending to fall and then rights himself, before he does a turn and lands on one foot, showing impressive dexterity and control, just as he did as the figure skating Santa.

I can't help but smile. He's doing this to lighten the mood—and I think it might be working.

“Do you know what I need out here,” he says when he skates back to us.

“What do you need, Harry?” I ask.

“I need somebody yay high,” he says, his hand held at Macy's height. “That's what I need. Someone yay high who can stop me from doing all the crazy things I was just doing. Hey, Macy. You're about the right size. Can you give a guy a hand?”

I'm about to encourage her to join Harry when, to my utter astonishment, she releases herself from my grasp and takes a tentative step onto the ice. In one fluid movement, Harry takes her by both hands, and glides backwards, coaxing her gently forwards.

“I knew you could help me,” he says, grinning at her. “You’re the perfect size, Macy.”

I stand and watch, emotion welling up in me, my hand over my heart. Harrison’s eyes flick to mine and he raises his chin, his smile shining bright.

I mouth the words “thank you” to him before I also step onto the ice and skate over to them, being careful not to put Macy off.

“Well, would you look at you. You’re a total natural on the ice, Macy,” Harry says.

She’s concentrating too hard to reply. Her gloved hands are gripping tightly onto Harry’s as he pulls her carefully across the ice.

“You're doing it, honey,” I say, pride and happiness filling my chest.

Harry skillfully maneuvers through the other skaters, intuitively knowing where others are located. It's like a sixth sense, his ability to detect movement in his peripheral vision, honed from multiple years on the ice.

I skate close by, watching Macy's face, looking for any signs of anxiety. But after a while, her features relax, a smile lifting the edges of her mouth, and I can tell she's growing in confidence with every inch of ice her skate slides across.

It’s the most wonderful sight I’ve seen in a long, long time, and I have Harry to thank for it.

After a while, Harry leads her over to the side where he tells her he's going to try something else.

“What?” Macy asks nervously.

“I thought I might put my hands around your waist and guide you as you slide across the ice,” he replies. “Don’t worry. I’ve totally got you. I’m good at this.” He smiles up at me and I swear, my ovaries give me a prod.

Who knew Harrison Clarke, defenseman for the Chicago Blizzard by day and Santa by night, could be the sweetest, most caring, and gentle of men with my daughter?

If I wasn’t catching feelings for him before, after this, I’m sure I have now. Every smile, every glance, every foot of ice he covers carefully with Macy, feels like it’s carved a little deeper into my heart.

Macy's brows pull together, and I wonder whether this is the moment where she backs out. But this daughter of mine is on a roll, it would seem, and with a firm nod of her head, she allows Harry to hold her steady and skate back onto the ice. I keep up with them, constantly checking that Macy is doing okay, and feeling a lot like a helicopter parent. But as Harry guides her in moving her feet a little and trying out some assisted skating, supported by his strong, reassuring presence, the helicopter parent in me flies away. Macy’s face is a study in concentration in what I could only describe as sheer delight.

Harry’s gaze captures mine, his smile soft, and my heart gives a little squeeze.

I am in trouble, deep .