“No, for your house—well, Zayne’s. He’s hosting the team Christmas party on Friday. Thank you, Zayne!” She beams at him. The veteran hockey player looks a little drunk even though I know there’s only hot chocolate in his cup—I checked.
“We need some trees to liven it up. I’ll come over before the party to help you all decorate. Make sure it’s clean before I show up,” she warns. “The place looks like a frat house.”
“My frat house in Mississippi was real nice,” Ren sniffs. “I don’t know what you all do up here in New England.” He says it like a curse. “Giving fraternity brothers a bad name.”
We troop through the snow. The Finn is in his element. That fucker even brought snowshoes. Who the hell does he think he is?
He hefts a hand saw. “That doesn’t look like it’s going to cut through so much as a holly bush, let alone a whole-ass Christmas tree,” I tell him.
The Finn responds in Scandinavian gibberish.
“I have a chain saw,” I tell him.
“Ziggy.” I point to his phone. “Tell him we’re not cutting down anything with a hand ax. I don’t want to be here all afternoon.”
I heft the chain saw I stole from Hudson off my shoulder. “Ellie, which tree do you want?”
“Multiple trees. Zayne has a big house. This smaller one for the living room, this one for the piano room—”
“We have a piano room?” one of the rookies whispers to me.
“Anything’s a piano room if you put an instrument in it. Well, I think Ren lives in it.” Ellie flits between the snow-dusted trees. “And these two big ones for the foyer.”
“Coming right up.” Before I can swing the chain saw down, the Finn is kneeling at the base of one of the trees, attacking it with the hand ax.
Weirdo.
I rev the chain saw.
Wood chips fly from around the base of the Finn’s tree, and it topples with a puff as Bramms and Zayne catch it then shake the snow off the branches.
He moves on to the next Christmas tree while the chainsaw chews through the base of my tree.
The Finnish giant proudly displays his trees to Ellie while she applauds. He smugly waves the hand saw in my direction and says something derisive.
“He says,” Ziggy translates on his phone, “that a real man knows how to handle an ax.”
“Fucker,” I swear, picking up my tree.
“It’s so nice having all these big, strong hockey players around.” Harlowe giggles. “No trouble carrying out all these Christmas trees.”
Bramms flexes his bicep at her. “Did you spike that hot chocolate with bourbon?”
“No, no spiking,” Ellie squawks.
I let the team get a few paces ahead of us. “I’m a little insulted you didn’t jump me in the locker room.”
“Your ego’s big enough.”
“So you did want to?”
“I’ve seen your Christmas package.” She swats my belt. “I’m not impressed.”
“The lighting in that locker room is terrible, Candy Cane.”
“Put in a complaint with maintenance.”
Quick, like I’m faking out a defender, I pull her behind one of the oversized Christmas trees. I steal a kiss from Ellie, letting my hand rest briefly on the curve of her ass.
