CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Aspen
Two weeks until Christmas and I have yet to do any Christmas shopping. Procrastination isn’t my thing. I usually tackle my shopping in November, but between Tucker’s practices and games, work, and pro games, finding time to do anything for myself is fleeting. I consider ordering presents online, but there’s just something about browsing the little shops and finding personal gifts while sipping on a coffee that feeds my soul. I want to experience the spirit of Christmas in New York; not doing so seems like such a shame. There’s something so nostalgic about the smell of Christmas: roasted pecan booths, cinnamon wafting through the air, and fresh-cut Christmas trees.
I think of Cal and wonder what his plans are. My thoughts seem to constantly revolve around him lately. I wonder who he will spend Christmas with or if he will be alone. We all spent Thanksgiving at my house, and not once did he bring up his family. I can just envision Cal sitting alone on his comfy, cream-colored couch, with a football game playing on the television. No tree. No presents. No family. No joy. The vision of him not celebrating with anyone is sad and pulls on my heartstrings.
Hannah strolls into my office with her laptop in hand, breaking me out of the depressing thought. “Are you ready for the meeting?”
I close my laptop. “Yes. After the meeting, please clear my schedule for the rest of the day. I have some things I need to take care of." I stand from my chair and follow her to the conference room.
Teagan, Trey, Luke, and the assistant coaches are already seated at the conference table. I find an empty chair next to one of the assistant coaches, Michael Gallagher, and take a seat while Hannah sits at the other end of the table beside Teagan. Trey’s laptop is connected to the big screen at the front of the room. A brooding hockey player’s picture is plastered on the screen.
“Most of you may know this face.” Trey begins. “But for those of you who don’t, this is the goalie for Boston, Sean 'Mac' Mackenzie. I called this meeting to go over some prospects and trade deals, but also because Ivan has come to share in confidence that he will be announcing his retirement at the end of the season.”
I had no idea he was considering retirement, though he is in his late thirties, so I guess that makes sense.
“I’m not a fan,” Luke says, resting his elbows on the conference table. He levels Trey with a pointed look. “I don’t have time to babysit a player who flaunts around his revolving door of women and bad boy reputation. We don’t need that kind of distraction in this organization.” Trey rubs his hand along his jaw. “That’s why I’m coming to you all. If Teagan can work with him on the PR side of things and whip him into shape, I think he could be an asset to the team. Not to mention, Boston is looking to trade him.”
“Why do they want to trade him if he is so good?” I frown in curiosity.
“For the exact reason I said. The guy is a PR nightmare and causes distractions for his team. Look, I will coach whoever you put in front of me, but I’m warning you against making this deal. Ultimately, the decision is yours and Aspen’s,” Luke says.
Trey levels with Luke. “I want him. He may have a reputation, but he’s also one of the best goalies in the league. He will also boost ticket sales. He’s good . . . really good.” Trey directs his attention to me. “Aspen, what are your thoughts? If Teagan can work with him, would you be willing to give him a shot?”
I mull it over, then look to Teagan. “Is this something you can handle?”
Teagan nods her head. “Yes, I’ve been looking into him for the past month. He just needs some good coaching on the PR side of things.”
Silently thinking, I look to Trey. “How much is his contract with Boston right now?”
“He’s at 8 million annually. There are rumors of offers coming in at 9.25 million with a three-year contract.”
My nails tap on the conference table. I don’t know much about purchasing or trading players, so I’m pulling this out of my ass. The only reason I’m here is because I’m the one with the money, and I have to sign off on the contract. “How much of our budget would he use up if we bought out his contract?”
“Not much.”
I direct my attention to Luke. “Ultimately, you are the one who has to deal with him day in and day out. Get with Trey and work out whatever you two want. You know this isn’t my wheelhouse.” I focus on Trey. “If this guy is as good as you say he is, and Luke agrees, offer no more than ten million. You can go with a three-year contract; it’s up to you both to decide. Is that reasonable?”
Trey and Luke nod their heads. “That’s more than reasonable. Now, moving on.” Trey changes the picture on the screen to Callan in his hockey jersey. A million tiny tingles shoot up my spine and to my head. Even in this picture, with no expression marring his face, he’s gorgeous: olive skin tone, one tiny frown line that rests right beside his left eyebrow. His brown hair is dark, cut the same as always: short on the sides and faded into a little length on the top—messy, how he wears it most days. My nails itch to scratch the stubbles that shadow his sharp jawline. I always thought he was beautiful, but the more I’ve grown to know him and his heart, the more he lights my soul on fire and the more attractive I find him.
And I swear, every time he looks at me like he does with those pretty hazel eyes, I’m left craving to suck and bite his plump, fucking kissable lips. I bet he’s a fantastic kisser. I mean, with lips like his, how could he not be?
Trey pulls me from my thoughts when he says, “Callan Miles. Thirty-one years old. Best center in the NHL right now. His contract is up at the end of this season, and his agent says—”
I cut Trey off. “No.”
Everyone whips their head around to look at me, and I fumble to recover. I know I’m acting on my own selfish agenda, but I don’t want him to go anywhere. “Like you said, he’s the best in the league.” I shrug. “Do what you need to do to renew his contract. Next.”
Trey nods as I take a sip of the water in front of me. “The thing is: his contract right now is at 42 million. The way his agent is talking, we would have to offer him at least a 49-million-dollar extension for three years, and there’s a possibility we would have to offer him even more just to compete with the offers coming in from other teams in the league. Whatever we do, we can’t go over our salary cap. He could choose to retire or leave the team on his own accord once his contract is up.” I sputter my drink and begin to cough.
After I recover, I say, “Do it. Make the offer; just don’t go over the salary cap.” I don’t care how much it costs me to keep Callan on my team.
I hope he wants to stay. What if he decides he doesn’t want to be here anymore? Oh God, how will Tucker deal with his leaving if he decides to go? His heart will be broken. Fuck, my heart will be broken.
Luke nods in agreement with me. Luke’s voice saves me from freefalling further into a pit of spiraling thoughts. “I agree. Don’t let Miles go. He’s worth every penny. I know he’s close to reaching retirement, but I say give him three more years at fifty-two million. That puts him retiring with us around the age of thirty-five.”
“If he wants more than that, I’ll sign off on it, and we can renegotiate other contracts to stay below the salary cap,” I add.
The last thing I need is to be assessed extra taxes or to face any fines from the NHL.
With that settled, other faces appear on the screen as we discuss who we are sending back down to the farm team and which college players we are looking at drafting. We wrap up the meeting, and as we filter out of the conference room, Hannah catches up with me. “Nice recovery there, boss lady.” I chuckle.
“You know you need to talk to HR soon.”
“Look, nothing is going on with us, but if that changes, HR will be the first to know. I’m not above my own rules. I’ll be the first to sign the contract, but as it stands right now, we’re just friends.”
We have a policy in place here for fraternization. Everyone has to sign contracts with HR if they enter into a workplace relationship. Mine is just a little more extensive with me being in a position of power. There are clauses about abuse of power and so on. Teagan presented the stack to me after the incident with the paparazzi. She didn’t believe with one hundred percent certainty that nothing was going on between Cal and me. The papers are still sitting on my desk four months later.
“Mmhmm. I saw the way you got lost in that picture of him, but whatever you need to tell yourself to make you feel better. Look, everyone knows how close you two are, and not a single person in this organization would think anything of it if you two were officially together,” she says, as she saunters away to her office.
I collect my belongings from my desk, then make the jaunt through the snow-covered parking lot to my SUV. I’m just ready to get away from work and lose myself shopping in peace. I pull my cell from my purse and text Cal.
Me: What are your plans for Christmas?
Without waiting for a response, I toss the device back into my purse. Thirty minutes later, I’m pulling into a parking spot near the shops in the city. My phone chimes, and I retrieve it out of my purse to find a message from Cal.
Cal: I don’t have plans.
Me: Want to spend Christmas with us?
Cal: I can’t think of anything better.
Christmas is truly magical in New York: the hustle and bustle of people shopping, the decorations, the smells, the Christmas music pouring over the streets. Sleigh bells ring on a horse-drawn carriage, carrying a couple wrapped in each other’s arms. The woman giggles as the man buries his nose in her hair. I feel like an intruder; I can’t help but watch their sweet moment. A longing aches within me to have someone look at me the way he’s looking at her. Once they pass, the spell is broken. A woman stands on the street corner swinging a bell, so I grab a bill and drop it into her tin as I pass by.
“Merry Christmas,” the lady calls out.
I toss her a smile. “Merry Christmas.”
I’ve been mulling things over lately, deciding that now is as good of a time as any; I pull my phone from my purse to call my mom.
“Aspen, I’m so glad you called. Marcy and I both received the plane tickets yesterday. We can’t wait to see y’all.”
“That’s why I was calling, actually. I wanted to make sure everything was set.”
My mom and I have been talking since the whole paparazzi incident; it gave me a different perspective. I can relate to her. I would move Heaven and Earth to protect my child. I still don’t agree with their methods, but no one can go back and change the past, so I chose to forgive her and move on.
“I’m already packing. One whole week with my babies. I can’t wait,” she laughs.
“I’m excited too. Listen . . . I now have several investment properties; why don’t we look at them while you’re here? I would love for you to be closer.”
Mom stays silent for what feels like a few minutes, and I look at my phone to make sure it’s still connected. “Mom?” My brows furrow.
“Yes. I’m still here. That was just an unexpected question. Those are yours now, Honey. Why don’t you move into one of them yourself, or you could sell them off?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right to sell them, but I don’t want to live there either. I just want you close by, and I know Tucker misses his Mamaw. Our lease is up at the end of April, so I will have to make a move soon. I still haven’t been able to bring myself to look at them yet, but once you get here, we could look at them all and figure it out together.
“Sounds great, Baby. Whatever you need. I have nothing tying me down here.”
“Perfect. I can’t wait to see you, Mom. I miss you so much.”
Mom’s voice cracks. “Me too, sweetheart. I love you. Give River and Tucker my love.”
I enter a little boutique and glance around. “I will. I love you too. See you soon.”
I hang up the call and toss my phone back into my purse. Now, what do you buy for a man who has everything?
I’m pulling a ham from the oven and chatting with my mom and Marcy, River’s mom, when the front door opens. I hear the clear sound of boots stomping on the mat as the door closes. My lips curl into a smile.
“Merry Christmas!” Cal calls out.
I circle the kitchen island to greet and introduce him to my mother, but Tucker comes barreling down the stairs with Puck hot on his heels, stopping me in my tracks.
“Merry Christmas!” Tucker says, plowing into Cal.
I watch their interaction. Cal and Tucker do the whole bro hug thing, then bump fists. Cal is looking too sexy for his own good. A red Santa hat rests on his head. He has on a red henley to match, which sculpts his big biceps and clings to his washboard abs. The jeans he’s wearing hug his muscular thighs and perfect ass. In his hand is a Santa bag full of gifts. I can’t control my body’s reaction to him. Heat pools in my abdomen. My mom is right behind me with Marcy at her side. I turn my head to look at them, and my mom raises one eyebrow while Marcy blatantly ogles Cal.
“Hot,” Marcy whispers, fanning her face, and I chuckle. Yeah, he is.
Tucker follows Cal as he walks over to the Christmas tree and begins strategically placing the presents underneath, talking a mile a minute. Cal picks up Puck, cuddling him and cooing at the little feller, while talking to Tucker.
Tucker notices me standing there and draws attention to me. “Oh, look! My mom is standing under the mistletoe!” He calls out excitedly with a conspiratorial smile, forcing Cal’s attention on us.
I look up and blush, then quickly jump back. The retreat causes me to bump into Mom. Damn it, River! I know she did this on purpose and put Tucker up to playing matchmaker.
Cal strides over to me and places a kiss on my cheek. “Merry Christmas,” he says in a low, sexy voice, causing goosebumps to pebble on my flesh under my cream sweater.
I clear my throat and turn towards my mom and Marcy as I try to mask how he’s affecting me. “Merry Christmas, Cal. This is my mom, Katherine, and River’s mom, Marcy. Mom, Marcy, this is Callan Miles.”
My mom gives him a hug. “Cal, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Tucker and Aspen talk so much about you; I feel like I know you already.”
He receives a hug and warm welcome from Marcy too, then follows me into the kitchen. “Need any help?”
“No. Y’all can go relax in the living room. I just need to throw the rolls in the oven to heat up, then we can eat. Do you want a glass of wine?”
“That would be great,” he says, heading for the living room with Mom and Marcy trailing after him. Marcy has her eyes trained on his spectacular ass, and I chuckle again.
I pour a glass of wine, take it to Cal, then go back in the kitchen to finish up. I hear everyone talking in the other room. Peeking around the corner, I find River and toss a glare her way. She smirks, then joins me in the kitchen.
“Is there anything I can do?”
I slap the kitchen towel in my hand onto the counter and say, “Yep! You can stop meddling, you hussy. What is that?” I nod up towards the mistletoe. She doubles over laughing. I squint my eyes at her again. “Go set the table.” I laugh. “You know what they say about payback.”
With a devious chuckle, River takes plates out of the cabinet and heads to the dining room. When the rolls are ready, I plate them and take them to the table. Someone has placed me right next to Cal. Tucker and River seem to be in on a covert operative mission to set us up, and it’s blatantly obvious. Mom and Marcy’s snickers prove all of them are up to something. I ignore their antics and sit between Mom and Cal. Cal says the prayer before we dig in. We aren’t a religious family, but we do always give thanks for our blessings during the holidays.
After dinner, Mom and I relax on the couch and catch up, River and Marcy separate gifts into piles, and the boys are left to wash the dishes. Once the dishes are washed and the food is put away, everyone takes a place in front of their pile of gifts. Tucker unwraps all his presents with excitement, showing them off with enthusiasm, while Cal and I snap pictures on our phones. When Tucker has unwrapped his last present, I focus on Cal.
He’s sitting on the floor next to Tucker with the box from me in his lap. Unwrapping the red foil, he curls over in laughter. In the box is a picture of us from the thrift store, wrapped in the Christmas scarf he wore that day. I thought the scarf would be a funny little gag gift, so I revisited the store last week and was surprised to find it still on the hook.
Everyone has finished opening presents when Mom reminds me that I still need to open mine.
I grab the one from Tucker first: a homemade clay ornament that he made in class before school released for break. I give him a hug and kiss him on his cheek. “Thank you, this means so much to me, Tucker.”
He hugs me back. “You’re welcome,” he says, then adds like an infomercial guru, “But wait, there’s more.”
I laugh. Tucker picks up a beautifully wrapped present from my stack and hands it to me. “It’s actually from me and Cal. Go on, open it,” he encourages, with a bright smile.
I unravel the gold bow and carefully open the black wrapping paper, revealing a black, velvet jewelry box. I flip open the box—resting inside is a gold bracelet with charms: a puck, a hockey stick, one round flat charm with the words Hockey Mom engraved, a heart, and a charm with the number eighty-five. I rub the number with my finger.
“It’s Tucker’s jersey number,” Cal points out.
Tucker laughs. “It’s your number too, Cal.”
“Thank you, both. It’s beautiful.” I study the bracelet again.
Cal takes the box from my hand and removes the bracelet. I watch his face as he takes my wrist in his hand, bringing it toward him. Carefully he clasps the bracelet around my wrist. His thumb caresses my pulse point, and his gaze locks with mine as I’m sure he feels my pulse racing a million beats per minute. His eyes flick down to my lips, then back up to my eyes.
“All set,” he whispers softly, licking his lips.
I’m lost in him when my mom interrupts the connection. “That’s so pretty,” she croons.
We finish unwrapping presents, then spend the rest of the evening playing games. It’s after eleven when everyone has snuck off to bed. Cal and I relax by the fire alone, drinking wine and talking.
Cal
Aspen’s long black waves tumble between her shoulder blades as she leans back on her elbows on the rug in front of the fire. The orange glow of the fire flickers across her face. One word describes her in this moment: stunning.
She sits up and takes a drink from her wine glass, then spins the glass back and forth between her thumb and forefinger by the stem. “What do you usually do for the holidays?”
I shrug. “Stay at home. Enjoy the time off.”
“You mean to tell me that Mr. Overachiever actually takes a break?”
I playfully poke her in the side, pulling a giggle out of her.
Aspen sets her glass down on the hardwood floor, stands up, and casually walks over to the tree. “I bought you another present, but it’s personal, so I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone.”
Curiosity gnaws at me as she retrieves a small box from behind the tree.
Aspen sits back down beside me, handing over the gift. “I hope you like it.”
I take the gift from her, then carefully unwrap it. I flip open the box; inside sits a Rolex.I take the watch out and toy with the links.
“The back is engraved.” She taps the face of the watch.
I flip the watch over. “Live today like there’s no tomorrow,” I read out loud.
I choke up, but I somehow stifle down my emotions, forcing them to stay in check. I don’t have to tell Aspen anything; she just gets me. I swivel my head to look at her in awe. Her emerald eyes shine when our eyes lock. She’s so fucking perfect. I lean in closer, and between my fingers, I take a stray strand of silky black hair, brushing it back behind her ear. My hand continues to trail down her arm. “Thank you.” I intertwine our fingers together.
My eyes move to her full, soft lips. I slowly lift my other hand to cup her cheek and allow myself to caress it with my thumb. Her skin is so damn soft. If I take this leap, there will be no turning back, and if I don’t, I’ll miss this opportunity. With my mind made up, I lean in closer, our lips just a breath apart. I can already taste the sweet wine on her lips, and I haven’t closed in yet. She takes unsteady breaths, closing her eyes in anticipation.
My lips barely graze hers when a clank from a glass makes me jump. I let out a soft groan and place my forehead on her shoulders. Half relieved and half annoyed by the interruption.
“Shit!” Aspen’s mom whispers to herself. When I look up, she’s standing at the sink with her back turned to us. “Sorry, y’all! I was just getting a drink of water. I forgot to take my pills,” she says as she turns on the tap water to fill her glass.
“It’s okay, Katherine. I was just about to leave.”
I stand, holding out a hand to help Aspen up from the floor. She grabs ahold of it, and I pull her up into a hug. “Thank you again for inviting me tonight . . . and for the presents; they’re perfect.” I whisper. Her hair smells of something floral, but I can’t quite place it.I take another inconspicuous inhale through my nose to breathe her in.
“You’re welcome,” she squeezes me a little tighter. Then peers up at me with a sweet smile. “Thank you for mine.”
I release her, then collect my gifts and stroll to the door. “Merry Christmas. Goodnight, y’all .”
Katherine throws her head back and howls in laughter, then points her finger at me. “Don’t you go mockin’ me, young man.”
I wink at her as I walk out the door. The icy road causes me to slip and slide as I cross the street. You would think with me being a hockey player, I would be able to handle a little bit of ice, but I barely make it back home in one piece. I laugh at myself as I walk through my front door.
I carry my gifts into my room and place them on my nightstand. After I’ve completed my nightly routine, I tumble into bed and envision Aspen’s beautiful face. The curve of her hips. The feel of her skin. Her emerald eyes. Fuck me—those pouty lips. The guilt for kissing her slams into me like a ton of bricks. I don’t understand this. Why can’t I just move the fuck on? I feel fine when I’m with her, but the moment I leave her side, I’m right back where I started. I feel myself constantly slipping right back into a very dark place; it’s a never-ending cycle. Which is why I don’t want her to ever leave my side. I like the way I feel when I’m with her.
Picking up the box from my nightstand, I take the watch out, flipping it over to read the inscription again; I’m trying like hell to grab onto the joy she brings out of me. I want to live today like there’s no tomorrow. I shoot her a text.
Me: Are you still up?
A few minutes later my phone rings. “Hi.”
“Hey,” she breathes. “Miss me already?”
I give a noncommittal laugh.
“Because I’m standing at your door. Let me in; it’s freezing out here.”
My eyes widen in surprise. I don’t know what I was expecting from texting her, but it wasn’t for her to show up at my door. I jump up from my bed and throw on a pair of gray sweatpants, then race down the stairs to open the door. Aspen stands gawking at me for a few seconds, her tongue licking those beautiful lips before she can fully mask her expression. The frosty air hits my bare chest, causing goosebumps to pebble on my flesh. I grab her hand and pull her inside. My throat moves in a hard swallow at our close proximity. God, she’s everything. Everything. Aspen is silent for a few moments as she peers up at me. There’s an ache in my chest for her.
“You left without finishing something.”