Santa’s Mistletoe Playbook

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

D YLAN

“Toffee nut please.” My seven year old nephew, Brandon, tried to sound like a grown up ordering his own ice cream, and nearly got away with it.

It was Christmas Eve, after all.

I grinned and ruffled his hair. “You got it.”

“I want buzzleberry, Uncie D.” Bessie, my niece and two years Brandon’s junior, hopped on one foot.

“You mean Blueberry,” Brandon informed her. “There’s no such thing as buzzleberry.”

“Is so!”

“Not!

“Okay,” I laughed, sliding my hands between my sister’s offspring who went nose to nose over ice cream flavors during the Christmas markets at her fiance's college. “We can work this out. Though why you guys want ice cream when it’s already snowing is beyond me.”

I placed Brandon in front of me, caging him in with my legs, and swung Bessie onto my shoulders.

“Too high, Booboo!!” she shrieked, covering my head with four clutching limbs like one of those freaky aliens they make B-grade porn clips about.

“One blueberry and one toffee nut, Booboo?” the elderly server with a twinkle in her eye beneath her silver bob pursed her lips in an effort not to laugh at me.

I mean, at six feet four inches, and built like a pro wrestler with the thighs to match thanks to lacrosse and training daily, Booboo probably didn’t quite fit the mould. But fuck it. If the shoe tried to fit, I’d wear that cute little seasonal fucker.

Especially for a five year old with dark, curly pigtails I doted on cause sure as shit I was never having rugrats of my own.

“Sprinkles, pretty please,” Bessie beamed as I put her down.

“Anything for you, love?” The server asked distractedly, heaping on purple sprinkles I just knew Bessie would pick off one by one to eat with her fingers while the ice cream melted.

Or maybe it wouldn’t.

The breeze picked up, scattering the lightly falling snow that dusted Bessie’s beanie.

“Uh, I’m good. I’ll get something warmer.”

“Good choice.” The granny winked, exchanging ice creams and five minutes of happiness for the remaining cash in my pocket.

I drew my borrowed tribe away into a space in the crowd and stared around at Blackstone U. Minnesota was far from my new to me Cali climate, but the snow was a novelty for now, since I hadn’t seen it during the last two years at college across the country.

“Let’s go find your Mom now I’ve sugar bombed you up, okay?” I tousled the blue pompom on Brandon’s beanie, noting the extra snowflakes collecting on top. “Because this winter weather is crusting my knees up.”

Not untrue, as I hadn’t dressed in a star ski suit like the two munchkins.

“Gingerbread latte?” A feminine voice at my side jerked me back to the present. “Hi, Dylan.”

I stared into somewhat familiar eyes of a pretty blonde I suspected I screwed in the bleachers after the last away game. It had been a momentous victory, and she offered up a treat for the victor afterward. We had a fun time. I just never went back for seconds.

At the right time, my sister made an appearance beyond the clusterfuck developing in front of me, saving my mind from dredging up a name that might or might not be correct.

The distraction worked for more than me.

“Mommy!” Bessie shot forward out of arm's reach, slipping and sliding on the icy slush, her pink star arms waving straight out, purple sprinkles scattering in her wake.

“I’m gonna beat you!” Brandon took off after her.

“Oh, hell.” I glanced at the pretty girl offering me a tray of plastic cups topped with cream and noted her fixed smile when I didn't respond enthusiastically, or with her name. Okay, maybe not so pretty . “I’ll, uh, be back.”

I didn’t bother with my best Arnie rendidtion, figuring she’d already checked out for the day, and lumbered after my niece and nephew, trying not to kill myself–or anyone else–on my headlong dash the thin layer of ice and slush underfoot.

Bessie skidded around a couple making out on family Christmas market day in a questionable PDA choice.

“Dylan!” My sister lunged forward just as I caught up with her kids.

I grabbed for Bessie, missed, and ran straight into a skein of brown and purple hair, and something that smelled sweetly of Christmas morning. The somebody hit the deck, and I landed on top of her with a groan.

“Shit.”

“You don’t say,” the somebody said in a soft voice from beneath me.

I detangled myself, taking note of the pale hand that fell from my sleeve, uncoiling the purple streaked hair that went on and on. “Sorry about that, Rapunzel,” I murmured, running my fingers through her locks until I came to a head and flipped the lilac curls back, falling back to rest onto my heels. “Wow.”

Matching brown-purple ringed eyes stared back at me, unaccusing, since I just put her on her behind. “Any chance of a hand up? Please.”

“Of course.” I recovered my manners, gripping the girl’s arm and tugged her up with me. My feet skated a bit as slush and snow melded beneath my boots, but I managed to keep my balance. “I’m so sorry. I was chasing…” I waved a hand in the kids’ direction, but they both disappeared, leaving me in the lurch.

“A winter wraith, huh?” The girl drew her hand out of mine, all fine bones and a light touch.

I missed the warmth I hadn’t noticed immediately.

“A what?” I rubbed the back of my neck, inhaling ginger and Christmas spice every time she moved. “You smell edible.”

She stopped moving. Her eyes drew up my body, resting on my face as she studied me. “I know you.” Her brow furrowed, and I waited.

“Rippton.”

“Yep.”

“Danny.”

“Dylan.”

“Right. The defender.” She waved a finger at me. “I’ve seen you play lacrosse. Goalie. You’re good. If you aren’t horsing around and playing cheerleader.”

“Glad my fame has spread wide.” I grinned and offered my hand back. “I don’t know your name.”

“Trinity.”

She eyed my hand, her lips pursed, though I wasn’t sure if it was from my earning her a cold ass, or to help herself from laughing. Finally she accepted the handshake, though my fingers came away slightly sticky. It took me a moment to place why, but when she shifted on her feet, gingerbread and spice notes lifted into the air around me.

I drew in a long breath. Not all of that goodness is from spilt milk.

“Well, Trinity. Since I deprived you of a warm beverage, may I please replace yours?”

“So you do have manners.” She finally grinned.

I assumed a pose of mock horror. “Why would you think otherwise? I’ve been perfectly gentlemanly.”

She snorted. “Including knocking a Christmas shopper on her behind.”

The way she avoided swearing was too cute. “Touche. Shall we?” I held out my arm.

“What do you want me to do with that?” She eyed my proffered limb like it might attack her at any given moment.

I edged closer and risked taking her hand in mine. Her fingers had turned cold, still slightly sticky, and probably tasted like gingerbread. I wanted to suck one into my mouth, but it would be poor form before kissing her and getting a little thing called consent.

Mind, back home at Rippton U in the Kingsman frat house in Cali, we did a whole lot worse. But I was out with my sister and her family, and I promised to be on my best behaviour. So, here we were.

“I feel like this is condoning bad behaviour,” Trinity murmured, flicking her gaze up at me through her lashes with those dark amethyst eyes. “For the bad boy with the player rep.” Her hand hovered over my arm.

“Damn, girl,” I murmured. “Don’t look at a man you just met like that. Gonna get yourself in trouble.”

Her soft gasp did weird and wonderful things to my blood flow, reversing its trajectory to head to the south pole at the wrong season. Still, her hand pressed over my arm, folding gently around the sleeve of my jacket. She’d likely leave mucky fingerprints there, but I didn't care. Hell, I’d probably suck the taste off later.

On second thought…that one had better stay in my head. Not that I wasn’t up for a little extras action, but right now I had my gaze set on one girl.

The girl from my rival college who knew my name.

My captain and housemate, Beau Bennet, would flip his lid.

This was shaping up to be a damn good Christmas.

I hollered to my sister as soon as I spotted her multi-coloured, lopsided beanie with the oversized pom pom Bessie handmade with love for her. My older sibling took one look at me, the girl at my side, and shook her head, muttering something with her gaze raised to the sky.

“I know how she feels,” Trinity whispered to herself, but I caught her hushed words.

My grin grew bigger. “Pray to whoever you need, baby. I have an angel of my own right here.”

“Definitely a bad idea.” She pressed her soft looking lips together.

“Definitely worth it,” I said firmly. “Besides, it's coffee. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Looking supremely discomforted at that statement, Trinity’s hand flexed on my arm. I covered it with my larger one, unwilling to let her dart away just yet.

Besides, I really wanted that coffee.