Santa’s Pucking Hat Trick (The Forbidden Reverse Harem Collection)

13. Wes

13

WES

R achel stared up at me, blinking those gorgeous, stormy eyes with near deliberate awkwardness and refusing to break the silence that stretched between us. Well, the quiet at least—the night around us carried with it the usual soft sounds I shouldn’t have been able to notice, but Rachel’s refusal to speak was so loud. I could hear the rustle of leaves through the oak trees in my front yard, the quiet electrical buzz of the powerlines, even the far-off sound of cars from the highway.

Or at least that was how it felt. Maybe it was just my piss-poor attempt at focusing on anything but Rachel Henning. As if that was really an option when we were stuck here, expected to interact by the long-standing rules of social conduct and politeness Ma had made sure to teach me, just like she taught me everything else.

I knew Rachel’s parents taught her that too. But she’d always cared less about following the rules than I had, so I knew if anyone was going to break, start the friendly small talk ball rolling, it would have to be me.

“Nice night, huh?” I started lamely, but it was true. Chilly enough that I had on the flannel jacket Ma had gotten me for Christmas the year before, but not so chilly because there wasn’t much of a breeze. Even though Mistletoe really shined at Christmas time, this was my favorite time of year.

“Yeah,” Rachel said with as little enthusiasm as possible. But breaking the seal of speaking seemed to help, because she cleared her throat and tried again. “Um, how’s your mom?”

“She’s great,” I answered, smiling a little. “Glad to have me over for the evening, since she clearly misses me since I moved out.”

“Where’d you move to?” Rachel asked, a genuine spark of surprise in her inflection. That wasn’t entirely unfair, I guess, since I was always such a mama’s boy, but it almost bothered me to think she didn’t see me as independent enough to live on my own. Maybe that was why I explained myself too much.

“Oh, just a little rental near the rink. Convenient for work. But Ma was having trouble letting go. Her only son and all. It’s only right that I come see her every weekend for dinner and to help her with stuff around the house.”

“The Christmas lights,” Rachel said, nodding toward the box I’d abandoned. I nodded. She met my eyes. “That’s…really nice of you. To help her with that. Even though it might be better—safer, at least—to wait until it’s fully light out.”

“That’s what Ma said,” I half laughed. “But I’m usually busy during the day, and besides, it’s way more satisfying to see the lights for the first time when it’s dark out. During the day, they just look like…”

“Ice,” Rachel finished, surprising me by filling in the blank with my own thoughts. “And, like…well, wires. Not very…magical.”

“Yeah,” I laughed again, stronger this time. Magical was exactly the word I’d use to describe the sight of those little twinkling lights in the nighttime—it was what I’d said to my mom when she first took me on a late drive through town to see all of them when I was small, right after I first got my glasses. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Well, again, that’s…nice. Helping out your mom. I’m sure she appreciates it.”

“I don’t do it for her appreciation,” I told her with a shrug. I liked to think I’d do just about anything for my mother. And maybe that was a little too true, since just this evening at dinner, Ma had been asking so much about Sharon that I’d agreed to get coffee with her in the morning. I was almost trying to convince myself that it’d be okay, that it was worth it for Ma. “I’d do it for her anyway. She’s done everything for me, so this kind of thing is the least I can do.”

“You make the rest of us adult children look bad,” Rachel said, but her lip twitched up at the corner, so I knew she was being lighthearted about it. “My mom had to beg me to help with her charity gala, and then I only agreed to it by accident.”

“By accident?”

“I was…zoned out. Didn’t realize what I was agreeing to.” She winced. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you that.”

“Well, we’ve known each other a long time,” I pointed out. “I know Paula almost as well as my own mother. So I know she can be…tenacious.”

“That’s one word for it,” Rachel laughed. The nostalgia seemed to fall over both of us like a pleasant haze, erasing the awkwardness we’d initially felt. It even had Rachel’s lips loosening, which was such a relief, I almost wanted to kiss her when she started talking. “More like…pushy. But I can’t complain too much—I’ve got a pretty good family. And since I’m an adult now, my mom at least stays out of my personal life better than she does with anyone else in her social circle, so I guess I’m grateful she’s got a grip on boundaries.”

“Ha. Wish my mom would do that a little more,” I muttered, thinking again of my impending coffee non-date with Sharon. Rachel raised an eyebrow, not quite asking for elaboration, but I found myself wanting to share with her. Test her a little, though I didn’t know or wouldn’t acknowledge what exactly I was trying to test her on. “She, uh…she’s been hung up on my ex-girlfriend, Sharon. Ma loves her, so she can’t see why I ended things. Keeps saying I’m not happy since the breakup. Like anyone’s happy after a long-term relationship ends.”

“Oof,” Rachel said, her brow wrinkling with sympathy. “That…yeah, that sounds messy. Do you think you’re less happy without Sharon?”

The question took me off guard. I blinked, ran a hand over the back of my neck. Before Rachel could backtrack, though, I pushed through, wanting to cling to this rare moment of intimacy. Fulfilling some of my childhood dreams of being close to her, maybe, even just on this small level.

“I…it’s for the best that we broke up. Ma doesn’t know Sharon like I do.” Understatement of the century—Ma had no idea the shallow, oftentimes cruel woman I’d dated for so long out of fear that no one else would want me. I knew I hadn’t answered Rachel’s question directly, and that part of me didn’t want to admit that I wasn’t quite sure what happy would look like for me, Sharon or not. I wanted to grind my teeth, and my next words came out a little strained. “I think Ma just worries I’ll end up alone without her help, and she’s really invested in having grandkids someday.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t think you’ll be alone,” Rachel said softly. Sweet as honey, and so, so too good to be true.

“Don’t get me wrong, Ma isn’t—she thinks I’m the greatest, obviously. Which is so nice. But Ma also knows me better than anyone, and even she can’t deny that with women, I’m…not exactly Roman Jett.”

Somehow, the air changed. Became colder, maybe, or somehow fraught with tension as Rachel suddenly looked away from me at the mention of my friend and teammate. It was dark enough now, even under the streetlights, that I couldn’t quite tell if Rachel was blushing or not, but I thought that maybe she was.

Suddenly, Rachel took a step back. “It’s late. I should, uh, get back. Let you work on your decorating.”

Huh. Curiosity itched in my head. Was my mention of Roman the reason she was so keen on making her escape now? What on earth could that mean—and why did the thought that it meant anything kind of make me want to punch something?

“Alright,” I said slowly. “I…yeah, me too. It is late.” And I had to see Sharon in the morning before practice, so I really should be getting back to my place sooner rather than later. But I wanted to prolong this moment, the brief connection that might have been all in my head. So I blurted out, “Let me walk you back.”

Rachel looked puzzled. “It’s literally just next door. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Still, you’re headed to the guest house, huh? It’s kinda dark back there. You’re a woman alone.”

“That didn’t seem to bother you when you snuck up on me in a parking lot at night,” she teased, but there was camaraderie in it that made me smile a little.

“See? Even more reason I should make up for that now. Besides, my mother raised me to be a gentleman.”

She heaved a great sigh, amping up the drama of it to make me laugh a little more. Damn, it was surprisingly easy to laugh with her—different from how it was with her twin, my best friend, but no less comfortable. Rachel sounded pleased rather than begrudging when she finally allowed, “Alright, then. You can walk me to the guest house. Waste your own time as much as you like.”

Companionable silence replaced the awkward one at the start of our interaction as I walked alongside Rachel, taking the edge of the sidewalk that was closest to the street. I had a gentlemanly reputation to uphold, after all. The well-landscaped backyard of the Henning place was dimly lit by stake lights shaped like Christmas trees, carrying the holly jolly spirit from the front of their house all the way through—I knew instinctively that the inside of their house was all decked out like Santa’s workshop too, though I hadn’t been over to see the Hennings for a while. The guest house, though, which Rachel had commandeered, was strikingly plain. Not a bit of festive decor on the outside, and surely the inside would be just as seasonally anonymous.

“Still the Scrooge of the Henning clan, I see,” I lightly teased her as we made it to the guest house door. Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Not wanting to decorate before Thanksgiving doesn’t make me a Scrooge. It makes me a normal human being.”

“They’re the same thing in a town like Mistletoe,” I countered, reveling in the smile we shared, the unique small-town background we had in common. Roman Jett couldn’t claim to have that connection with her, at least. Just thinking of that, the possibility that Roman could want to form some kind of connection with Rachel the way I clearly wanted to, had something irrational and hot flaring up inside me. I tempered it, but it was still a stupid decision to say what I said next. “Listen, Rachel, before you go…Roman is my friend, and he’s a better guy than he appears. But I think it’d be better if you kept your distance from him anyway. He’s not always the best with women.”

My voice came out harsher than I meant it to, and I knew it was a stupid idea to overstep in this way with Rachel, no matter how friendly we’d seemingly become during my player interview and our brief exchange tonight. Sure enough, her face instantly shifted, became cold. Furious. An avenging goddess.

“Did I ask for your input on my life?” She let out, sharp and clipped. Humiliation colored my cheeks, and before I could even sputter, she was back on the attack.

Well, the defensive, I guess. Because I’d made the stupid decision to poke the bear. This was just her following instinct.

“I don’t know where you got it into your head that you need to warn me about Roman, or about anything. It’s none of your goddamn business, no matter how close you are to my twin.”

I flinched. I wanted to backtrack, to take back the stupid words I’d said in a moment of weakness and misplaced jealousy. I had no reason to even think there was anything going on with Rachel and Roman anyway—her freezing up when I mentioned him was hardly enough proof that there was anything untoward happening. And she was right; it wasn’t my business anyway. I was mentally cursing myself, a chorus of stupid, stupid, stupid playing through my brain in the loud, insistent way it often had when I was with Sharon. But then, other than dating Sharon for as long as I did, I’d never been quite this stupid before.

“And for the record,” Rachel started, standing up straighter and bringing her face nearly nose to nose with mine like she was gearing up to some grand finale that I knew would hurt, “if your goal was to keep me from sleeping with him, that ship has already sailed. We fucked, and it was fantastic. Roman is even better in bed than everyone says. Was that what you were so worried about?”

Holy shit. The words punched through my chest, knocking the wind out of me. Before I could try to suss out if she was serious, if the hissed obscenities she’d released like a witch’s curse were just a hurtful lie or a more painful truth, I heard myself muttering a strained goodnight, and I was turning away.

I didn’t stop until I was back to the safety of my mom’s house, thoughts of Rachel and Roman pounding like a migraine inside my skull.

The morning sun poured through the big front windows of Sharon’s café of choice, casting the whole place in a golden glow. It was a beautiful morning in Mistletoe, and this local business was brimming with activity, but somehow, Sharon’s presence managed to drain the life right out of the room.

She was just as pretty as ever, of course—well dressed, perfectly styled blonde hair, wearing a sleek pink lip gloss I knew tasted like pink lemonade. I shifted in my seat, trying to focus on my coffee, the dark liquid still steaming in the cup in front of me while she talked at me.

“Remember that trip we took to Chicago?” Sharon asked, a syrupy sweetness coating her words. “That was such a good time, wasn’t it? The art institute, and of course that night at our hotel…”

I barely suppressed a groan hearing her giggle, a put-upon coquettish gesture that felt false.

“Yeah,” I replied, though the memory didn’t bring the warmth she seemed to expect. All I could think about was how exhausting that trip had been—how she’d dragged me from one overpriced boutique to another, acting like I should be grateful to have the privilege of carrying her bags. But I wasn’t about to start a fight. Not here, not now.

Her smile widened, as if we were two old friends reminiscing about a perfect day instead of exes with nothing left to talk about. She stirred her iced latte, the sound of the spoon clinking against the glass grating on my nerves.

“You were so cute back then,” she added, her gaze flicking over me. “A little nerdy, but in an adorable way. Hard to believe you’re the same guy sometimes.”

There it was. The subtle jab. The reminder that I hadn’t always looked like this. I’d worked my ass off to get stronger, to bulk up for hockey, but Sharon had always taken credit for it in some way, like she’d sculpted me herself.

I swallowed, trying not to let it get to me. It wasn’t like she was completely wrong. I had been nerdy when we first met. Hell, I still kind of was under all the muscle. But it didn’t mean I owed her anything for it.

“Yeah, well,” I said, forcing a smile. “Times change.”

Sharon’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than was comfortable, and I glanced down at the muffin I’d ordered. I hadn’t really wanted to eat breakfast with her, but I wouldn’t have time to grab anything else before practice, since Mistletoe’s drive-thru places were few and far between. The muffin looked good, anyway, and it was probably the only thing keeping me from snapping right now. I picked it up, peeling back the wrapper from its side in preparation for a bite.

“Do you really think you should eat that?” Sharon said suddenly, her voice soft but with an edge of condescension. “I mean, you’ve worked so hard on your physique, Wes. It’d be a shame to ruin all that.”

The words hung between us, heavy and unwelcome. My grip tightened on the edge of the table, and for a second, I imagined throwing the damn thing right at her. But, of course, I didn’t. Instead, I leaned back in my chair and shrugged, taking a large bite that wasn’t as sweet as I’d hoped after her bitter comment.

“Pretty sure it won’t kill me.”

Her lips twitched in a way that made my skin crawl, but she let it go. For now, anyway. The silence stretched between us, awkward and uncomfortable, and I found myself wishing I could disappear. How did I ever think this relationship was a good idea?

I was hoping I could steer the conversation to something neutral—anything that wouldn’t make me feel like I was suffocating—when Sharon leaned forward, her hand resting on the table between us. Pink nails filed in that square shape I’d never liked much.

“I miss you, Wes,” she said, her voice lower now, almost intimate. “I know we ended things, but…I think we were good together. Don’t you?”

I clenched my jaw. That we , the implication that our breakup had been mutual…it made me want to scream. I should’ve seen this coming, should’ve known the real reason she’d insisted on seeing me was to get her manicured claws back into me and never let go.

“Sharon—”

She cut me off. “I get that you needed space. I do. But I’ve waited. I’ve given you time, and I’m still here, Wesley. We belong together. You know that, right?”

I could feel my frustration building, a knot forming in my chest. Belong together? I knew she was good at rewriting history, but this was a whole new level. The truth was, being with Sharon had made me feel like shit most of the time. She’d always found a way to make me question myself, to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough unless I was constantly changing, improving—for her.

And now, here she was, acting like she’d done me some grand favor by sticking around, waiting for me to realize I couldn’t do better than her. It made my skin crawl.

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could. “We broke up for a reason, Shar. I’ve told you that I’m not interested in getting back together, and I meant it.”

Her expression didn’t change much, just a slight twitch of her lips like she didn’t quite believe me. “You haven’t been dating anyone else,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Not a single date since we…parted ways. Don’t act like that doesn’t mean anything, Wesley.”

The fact that she was keeping tabs on me—knew that I wasn’t dating anyone—had my blood boiling. How much had she been watching? What gave her the right to act like she knew me better than I knew myself?

Without thinking, I blurted, “Your information is off, actually. I am seeing someone.”

The words were out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted it. Sharon’s eyes widened in surprise, her eyebrows shooting up.

“Really?” she asked, the doubt clear in her voice.

“Yeah,” I said, doubling down now that I was in it. “It’s new, but…I like her. She, uh, works with the team.”

Sharon blinked, processing that information. I didn’t say Rachel’s name, but her face flashed in my mind, unbidden. The way we’d talked last night—before I screwed everything up by mentioning Roman—had been easy. Natural. Unlike this forced, painful dance with Sharon.

“Well,” Sharon said, leaning back in her chair with a smug smile. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

I gritted my teeth, my frustration bubbling under the surface. “I’m serious. You need to stop waiting for me. It’s over.”

She gave me a look like she didn’t believe me for a second, but before I could say anything else, the waitress brought our check. Sharon slid her sleek platinum credit card across the table without missing a beat.

As she signed the receipt, I caught myself thinking about Rachel again. I wasn’t dating her—hell, she’d probably slap me if she knew I was even thinking about using her to get Sharon off my back. But the more I considered the possibility of letting Sharon think Rachel and I were together, the more I liked it. Hell, even just the idea of spending more time with Rachel Henning, under false pretenses or not, even if she was destined to yell at me again…it had a strong appeal.

Sharon glanced up at me as we left, still smug as she pressed her body against mine in a hug that I didn’t want. She was still convinced she had time to win me back. But as I walked out of the café, the sight of Rachel’s face in the dark of her parents’ backyard fortified me.

I’d rather fake date Rachel than really get back with Sharon any day. Now, I just had to find a way to do it.