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My cheeks hurtfrom smiling so much.
The entire team—every player, every coach, and all of their family members—have descended on Mulberry Farms. They’re spread out from the gingerbread hut to the hot chocolate buffet, surveying the row of glass jars full of marshmallows, candy canes, and nutmeg to add to their drinks.
Some carry trees out to their cars, tying the Douglas firs down with twine and bungee cords. Others decorate sugar cookies, and a food fight breaks out when Dallas swipes a thumb full of frosting across Maven’s cheek. I’m sitting on a little wooden bench on the outside of the skating rink, happily watching the madness unfold.
“Hey.” Lacey plops down next to me and nudges my shoulder. “There you are.”
“Are you having fun?” I ask, bending over to lace up my left skate.
“So much fun. I think I ate too many cookies, though. My stomach is killing me.” She works her fingers through her hair, braiding the long strands and tying them off with a hair tie. “Want to hit the ice?”
“I’m not very good,” I admit. “I might need your help.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be the best teacher,” she says, “but I’ll do my best.” She stands up and wiggles her hand. I smile and take it, laughing as she tries to pull me to my feet but almost topples backward in the process. “You’re not light.”
“I’m over two hundred pounds,” I say. I rise to my feet and keep our hands locked together. “Have you been deadlifting?”
“Deadlifting my wine glass to my mouth,” she answers, and I laugh again.
We shuffle toward the rink, and Lacey checks both ways before dragging us onto the ice. Her free hand grips my forearm, and we wobble on our feet.
“Easy,” she says. She moves in front of me and skates backward, her eyes on mine. “Pretend like you’re gliding.”
“Believe it or not, they don’t teach us how to glide on the football field,” I say. “It’s more about tackling and leveling a guy onto his ass.” I lean my shoulders forward and try to make myself smaller. “How am I doing?”
“I’m not sure you’ll be competing in the Olympics anytime soon, but it’s not the worst beginner skating I’ve ever seen,” she says. She holds both of my hands, and she swings our arms back and forth. “Relax. I’m not going to let you fall.”
“Says the girl who claimed she was rusty.”
“It’s like riding a bike.” She lets go to do a spin then faces me with a grin on her lips and a few pieces of hair in her face. “See? No injuries here.”
I reach for her palms again, and she intertwines our fingers. I like when she touches me. She’s warm and soft, and her thumb runs over the knuckles of my left hand. We settle into a rhythm, with her pulling me around the oval and me only flailing mildly. Her laugh makes me smile, and when I come close to face-planting on the ice, she grabs under my arms and keeps me stable.
“My guardian angel,” I say after we’ve done six laps.
Her cheeks are pink. A small bead of sweat rolls down her neck and catches in the hollow of her throat. It’s obnoxiously sexy and I purposelydon’tlook at it, averting my gaze and focusing on my jeans instead.
“You’re doing great,” she says. “I’m going to grab some water and take a break. Do you want something to drink?”
“I’m good for now. Thanks, buttercup.”
She rolls her eyes and flicks my ear. “Try again. And don’t go too far away. I don’t want to find you on your back in the middle of the rink going into cardiac arrest.”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Old enough to not thinkDie Hardis a Christmas movie,” she answers, and she darts away.
I tip my head back and laugh. I hold onto the boards as my team skates by, and I duck when someone throws a clump of ice at my head.
“You’re having fun,” Aiden says. He drapes his arms over the side of the rink and grins, staying on solid ground. “Is there a reason you’re pretending to not know how to skate when I distinctly remember you winning the junior hockey league MVP when we were eight?”
My ears turn red, and I dip my chin. “Because I like watching Lacey pretend to know what she’s talking about.”
“Ah.” Aiden hums and leans forward on his elbows. “Right. Because otherwise she wouldn’t hold your hand. Got it.”
I throw up my middle fingers. “Because it’sfun.”
“And if she started to fall?”
