“Oh, come on,” Aunt Stacey yells from the living room, where she’s got a mimosa in one hand and a Christmas cookie in the other. “Let the man be in love! Fletcher’s a star player now!”
“He scored the game winner!” Harlowe shouts.
“He bleeds for this team!” one of Ellie’s younger cousins says from under the kitchen table, where he’s got a plate of Christmas cookies.
“I like him!” Granny Murray adds as she pours more rum into the holiday punch. “He’s hot! And you should see him in the locker room getting undressed. Lawd! Gather ’round, children, for an early Christmas present! I’ve got nude photos!”
“Gran, you didn’t!” Harlowe protests. “You’re supposed to keep her from taking photos, Ellie! Delete that right now!”
Nate groans and mutters something about needing a stronger cider. Ellie’s cousin grabs the phone as Ellie scrambles to try to hide it.
Her female family members shriek as Ellie chases them around.
“Oh my god, Ellie! No wonder you took a pay cut to get on the Rhode Islanders.”
“Damn, he’s hung.”
“Sorry.” Nate winces. “You are kind of family now.”
He waits a beat then adds, “You should have seen what Trina’s sisters did to me when they found out I snuck into her bedroom one night after her parents were in bed.”
I blink then turn to look at him. He’s just fucking with me, right?
The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re not the only one who has ever been young and horny and in the NHL, son.”
“Motherf—”
Ellie trots up, phone in hand. “Sorry! I’m deleting these right now.”
I pull her to me, kiss the top of her head, then kiss her mouth. “Don’t. Send them to yourself.”
Ellie wraps her arms around my waist and leans into me.
“Damn right!” Granny Murray hollers. “You’re going to be glad I took those photos when you’re old and wrinkly. You can remember what you looked like in your prime!”
“You’ll leave me for one of your younger players long before then,” I murmur into her neck.
“No, I won’t!” She shoves me. I pull her closer.
She looks up at me, big brown eyes serious. “I love you. I want to spend every Christmas with you.”
I can’t stop the grin splitting my face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I kiss her. “Too bad that’ll never happen.”
She jerks back. I swing her around. “We’re both in the NHL, and we play hockey games on Christmas, Coach Candy Cane.”
“Hell yeah!” her family cheers.
37
ELLIE
“Ican’t believe you guys still have energy to play,” my dad complains as the handful of Rhode Islanders players who couldn’t make a trip home for Christmas zoom around the ice. “You played an NHL game last night and had practice this morning.”
“I always have energy for hockey!” Fletcher fights with my brother Adam for the puck.
