Chapter 17
seventeen
RYDER
Hopefully Coach doesn’t kick my ass for this, but even if he does, the bright smile on Lexi’s face will make it worthwhile.
She hasn’t stopped grinning since we grabbed the axe from the garage and started tromping through the yard toward the more wooded areas. The majority of these trees look like they’ll be far too tall to bring inside the cabin, but if worse comes to worst, I’ll just cut the top half of a pine tree down and make it work.
All our talk about Christmas traditions earlier made me want to do something to bring a little magic back into the holidays for Lexi. I don’t know too much about Coach’s divorce, but the guys say he was a raging beast last season. Supposedly, he’s not quite as bad this year, but he’s still grumpier than normal. I’d guess it’s been at least a few years since Lexi’s had a Christmas she can look back on fondly.
I’m determined to change that.
“It’s so beautiful,” she says breathlessly. “It was hard to enjoy the snow when it was the reason I was freezing my ass off, but now that the power’s back on, I feel much more benevolent.”
She sighs as we push through the deep drifts, but it’s a happy sigh. Her high cheekbones are flushed pink from the wind nipping at them, her green eyes sparkle in the bright wintery light bouncing off the snow, and her lips part just enough to let little puffs of mist swirl around her face as her warm breath meets the icy air. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I admit. Though I’m not talking about the snow.
Lexi glances my way, and the flush of her cheeks deepens when she catches my meaning. “You sure you should be chopping anything with your bum hand? I can do it, you know.”
She could, too, but I also know she’s sore from cutting all that firewood. She keeps rolling her shoulders when she doesn’t think I’m looking.
“I think I can handle it. But I promise I’ll tell you if it starts to hurt.”
“Does it bother you?” she asks, her attention dipping to my gloved hand. Those pretty lips of hers pull into a grimace as she looks back up at me. “Especially after I threw that wine bottle at you?”
I shake my head. “Nah. I’m good. I promise.”
She hums but doesn’t fight me about it. “Do you get into a lot of fights on the ice?”
Fighting is a part of hockey. I’ve gotten into my fair share of brawls, but I don’t actively seek them out like some guys do. For some reason, I always picture my mom when a fight breaks out. She has that look on her face that she’d give me when I was a kid and getting into trouble. “Not really. I won’t back down if someone else starts one, but I don’t go around picking fights on the ice.”
That seems to be the right answer, because Lexi grimaces again. “Good. I can’t stand guys who go around starting fights because they think it makes them look cool.”
The tone of her voice tells me there’s a story here. “Know someone like that?”
“Yeah,” she scoffs. “My ex.”
Her ex? Alexis Cross dated a hockey player? Well, shit. Didn’t see that one coming. “Oh? Did you date someone on your dad’s team?”
“What? God, no.”
Ouch.
“My college boyfriend. He loved to start fights. I think it’s because it made all the girls drool over him.”
He sounds like a winner.
“Does he still play?” I want to know who this guy is. Because if he plays pro hockey, that means I may have the chance to check his ass into the boards for getting to touch Lexi. And for being a dick of a boyfriend, if her tone is anything to go by.
She smirks. “Not that I know of. Not for lack of trying on his part. He thought he was hot shit when we were dating, but he never put in the work he would have needed to go pro.”
“Lazy?”
“Entitled. He thought he could get into the NHL with his good looks, social media presence, and connections.” The emphasis she puts on the word connections has me bristling. I’m not sure I’ll like where this is going.
“Did he know people in the NHL?” I ask casually.
“Yeah,” she says bitterly. “My dad.”
Damn. That was what I was afraid she’d say. I want to ask her to tell me more, but I remain silent. Maybe if I don’t say anything, she’ll keep talking.
Lexi sighs. “Turns out, Garrett was more into my dad than me, and when that relationship didn’t work out the way he’d hoped, there wasn’t much reason to stick it out with me.”
“I’m sorry, OTG,” I say, reaching out to grab her hand. “He’s an idiot.”
“I don’t know. Pretty sure I was the idiot in that scenario. After all, I was the one who thought he was interested in me, not my dad. Should have seen it coming from a mile away.” Lexi squeezes my hand before dropping it, her tone growing brighter, even if it’s forced. “But enough about Garret, the ass. I want to know how many times you’ve been injured. You guys really get beat up out there.”
“I’ve been pretty lucky,” I tell her. “I never sustained any serious injuries when I was a kid or during college. A few sprains and bruises, like everyone else, but nothing too bad. This is my most serious injury. Which sucks, because I had a great start to the season before this. Now I’m worried I’ll go back and have lost my mojo.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I glance at Lexi in time to see her roll her eyes. “It’s not mojo, it’s skill. You hockey players and your superstitions. I swear.”
“All I’m saying is that I had finally started earning my place on the team, and I’m worried that, by the time my stupid hand heals, Coach’ll have replaced me with someone else.” That’s always the fear. Guys get traded, let go, bumped down into lower lines that don’t see as much time on the ice. It sucks, but it’s just the way it is.
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” she says. “Pretty sure he likes you, from the sound of it.”
I need to turn this conversation around because we’re skating into dangerous territory. “I don’t want to worry about it. You’re right.” We make our way into a copse of trees. I let the axe fall from my left shoulder and rest the head on the ground while I survey the nearby evergreens. “Right now, I just want to focus on finding the perfect tree.”
That brings a smile to Lexi’s face. “It has to be fat and fluffy.”
“Right. Fat and fluffy. Let’s see if any of these fit the bill.” Together, we pick our way through the snow-covered forest. We occasionally shake the heavy white powder from branches to judge a tree’s shape and beauty. But they’re all too tall for the cabin. Looks like I’ll be chopping down half a tree, rather than a whole one.
“What about this one?” Lexi asks. Her eyes are bright when she turns to me, and the way the sun hits her face makes it look like her fair skin is glowing. “It’s a little tall, but it’s fluffy, doesn’t have any bare spots, and the branches seem nice and sturdy.”
She could be pointing to the ugliest tree in the forest, and I’d tell her it’s perfect. Because I don’t care about the tree. Not really. I care about the way Lexi has completely forgotten about her shitty ex and her crappy dad because of a snow-covered tree in the forest and the prospect of decorating it.
“I think it’s perfect. Looks like it’s maybe twelve feet, so I’ll need to cut it down to size a bit, but that just means we’ll have some extra firewood, right?”
“Exactly!” Lexi claps her gloved hands as she looks at me expectantly. Hopefully this doesn’t mess up my hand too badly, because I’m committed now. I can’t let this woman down. Not after everything I’ve learned about her.
“Okay. Stand back so I don’t hurt you.”
She salutes me with a smirk. “Aye aye, Lumberjack Ryder.”
There’s a stupid grin stretched across my face as I lift the axe, making sure to grip it tighter with my uninjured hand, and let it swing. The first hit makes me hiss as the impact jars my wound, but with a minor tweak to my grip, it should be doable. The second swing still stings, but it’s not nearly as bad. By the tenth swing, I’m sore but almost through the trunk.
Lexi watches me with wide eyes. They’re filled with excitement and pleasure and maybe even a little hunger. The realization gives some extra power to my next two swings, and the tree groans as the trunk teeters, then falls.
“That’s so much hotter in person than social media,” I hear Lexi murmur to herself. Social media? Oh, she must be talking about that guy who makes thirst traps splitting huge logs. She thinks I’m hotter? Forget the pain in my hand. Worth it to hear her say stuff like that.
Giving my tingling palms a good shake, I eye the fallen tree. If I cut it to about seven-feet tall, it should be manageable enough to get inside the cabin. The real trick will be dragging it through the woods. Luckily, we didn’t get too deep in before Lexi found the one .
“You okay?” she asks when she notices what I’m doing. Her jubilant expression shifts into one of concern. “Did you hurt your hand?”
I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good. It’s just a lot of vibrations, and my palms are all tingly.” Though that’s not a lie, it’s not the whole truth. My palms are tingling, but my injured hand is also throbbing. Luckily, it doesn’t feel like I’ve split any of the stitches, and I made sure to shove some extra padding into my glove over my palm.
“Are you sure?”
Her nose wrinkles and her lips purse as she studies me. It’s adorable, so I can’t help myself. I boop her nose. “I’m sure, Oscar. But it’s sweet that you’re worried about me.”
She rolls her eyes at the use of the nickname—or maybe the boop on the nose—but lets it drop. “I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about dragging this tree to the cabin if you drop dead. It’s huge.”
With a bark of laughter, I turn my attention back to the task at hand. “It is huge. I need to cut it down more.” After eyeballing it, I point to a spot on the tree with the axe and turn to Lexi. “Think that looks about right?”
She squints, cocking her head to the side. Those lips of hers twist adorably as she thinks about it. “Hell if I know.”
“Right,” I say with a deep laugh. “We’re just going to go with it and hope it fits.”
“That’s what she said,” Lexi whispers under her breath. She jumps a little when I laugh at that, and her pink, winter-kissed cheeks flush a deeper shade of rose. “What? I like re-watching The Office in between murder mysteries.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I reassure her. Except, I can’t hide my smirk.
She folds her arms over her chest and taps her booted foot. “Whatever. You gonna cut that, or what?”
With a tip of my beanie and a bow at the waist, I say, “As you wish, Oscar.”
The thwack of the blade hitting the tree drowns out her half-hearted grumbles. All I can think about is kissing the sass right out of her mouth.