Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
GABE
I’ll never admit this when I get back to the team, but fuck, these kids look cute on the ice. And they aren’t even in their costumes yet.
There was a bit of flailing around at the start, some squealing, and one round of tears when a girl fell and landed on her knees. But Abigail told her to pull herself together because “the show must go on,” and she was all good in a couple of minutes. Abi would do well on a top-tier coaching bench.
Watching Natalie organize them has been surprisingly hot. And not only because I can’t stop picturing her coming on my dick the other night—that’s an image I haven’t been able to shake from my head since.
Yesterday, I decided to tell myself the only reason she raced off afterward was because she was embarrassed. Not because she regretted it and doesn’t want to do it again.
I sure as hell want to do it again.
Sometime right about now would be perfect .
The way these kids look up to her, adore her, and hang on her every word is a turn-on I never expected. I also never expected to find it kind of inspiring. Maybe I should rethink getting involved with that Apollos’ kids’ program when I get back to work.
An entirely separate part of my brain wonders if this is called Turtle Pond because actual turtles live here. If so, they’ll have buried themselves under the mud at the bottom to survive the winter. There was a show about the turtles in Central Park doing that, and I’d imagine it happens throughout the turtle world. If so, they’ll be oblivious to the kids gathered on the ice above them.
We’re nearing the end of the run-through, and the play is fucking hilarious. Natalie’s script is brilliant—simple but funny.
All this, and it’s set against a picture-perfect backdrop of the sun setting in a cloudless blue sky, a dazzling frozen pond surrounded by crisp fresh snow, and a bandstand straight from the picture on a cookie tin just off to the right.
It’s like I’ve walked onto the set of one of those nauseatingly cutesy Christmas movies, where the out-of-towner falls for the local girl. Except those movies always have a happy ending. In this one, both the out-of-towner and the local girl will go their separate ways very soon.
“Hey,” I call out to the kid playing the messenger as she skates around the back of the gathered townsfolk. “No need to pick up your foot when you make that turn. Just lean your body weight and your ankles into the bend and you’ll glide around. Less likely to fall that way.”
From her spot on the edge of the pond about twenty feet away, Natalie gives me a smile that warms my frozen extremities before turning back to the messenger kid .
“Try it again,” she calls out.
The little girl does another lap of the townsfolk, this time cornering perfectly smoothly, her blades never losing contact with the ice.
“Great.” I give her a clap.
She replies with a wide grin and two thumbs up.
“Okay, that’s good for today,” Natalie shouts. “Everyone, gather around.”
She beckons the kids to her—the ones on the ice, those standing around the edge watching, and the few in the bandstand helping themselves to hot chocolate from two huge Thermos jugs that Natalie brought.
I join them but stand behind her and off to the side. Not something I would ever do at work, where I’m always trying to talk someone into doing something my way. But this is Natalie’s show, not mine.
“Fantastic,” she tells her assembled crowd. “It’s all coming together. Yesterday’s run-through of all the new lines was great. And today you put that together with actually being on the ice. Acting and skating isn’t easy, but you’re all doing so well. Duncan, you just need to remember that it’s stalactite not satellite .”
A general snicker runs through them. At least they’re not laughing as loud as they were when he made three attempts at it earlier. It was enough to give the poor kid stage fright for life.
“We’ll need to clear more of the snow away from the entrances and exits onto the ice for the actual night so no one trips again.” She looks at the girl who Abigail told to get on with it.
“It’ll be dark soon.” Natalie glances at the dipping sun. “And we all need to go home to get ready for the pig lighting tonight.” The kids cheer and a few wave their arms in the air. Obviously, the pig lighting is a big deal.
“And judging from the line of cars parked over there, I think your rides are here,” Natalie says. “But before you go, give yourselves a well-earned round of applause.”
She starts it off and I join in.
“Okay,” Natalie says as the clapping fades, “off you go. And maybe I’ll see some of you at the festival.”
The kids in regular footwear trek off toward the cars, while those in skates head up to the bandstand where they left their shoes.
“Yo, Woodsy.” A group of guys, presumably parents of the kids, approach me from the direction of the parked cars. Oh, Jesus. My stomach churns at the prospect of more “tips” on how to improve my game.
“We were just saying how great your run through Philadelphia’s defense was last month,” the man in the red hat says.
The others nod. One says, “Yeah.” Another adds, “Solid.”
“And that goal against the Capitals”—one of the others makes a chef’s kiss—“fucking beauty, man. Fucking beauty.”
Another dad in a blue jacket nudges him and nods in agreement.
Well, these comments are all a pleasant surprise. “Thanks, guys,” I tell them. “I appreciate it.”
A handful of kids runs over to join us.
“Mr. Woods helped me with cornering today,” the messenger girl says.
The guy in the red hat puts his arm around her and pulls her to his side. “You have no idea how lucky you are getting skating advice from this man,” he tells her .
“All of you kids,” a man in an enormous puffer jacket points at them in turn, “whatever this guy tells you to do when it comes to skating, you do it. Okay?”
The children all nod and hiss a bunch of yesses.
“Means the world to us to have you working with our young ’uns on this,” the blue jacket guy says.
“All right,” a tall man at the back says to the kids, “let’s get you home and fed some real food before you stuff yourselves with gingerbread men and cocoa at the pig lighting.”
“Thanks, dude,” blue jacket man says and pats me on the shoulder before turning and following the gang back toward the cars.
Huh. Maybe all this being-involved stuff doesn’t suck as much as I’d thought it did.
Does that include the woman in the jeans, purple jacket and pink beanie?
Just look at her smiling at the kids, full of joy as she waves them off home with a cheery “See you at the festival!”
Nothing so simple has ever made my heart thud against my ribs like this.
Nor has any such completely ordinary action made my lips crave contact with another person’s.
Maybe it’s not only the kids I’m getting more comfortable being involved with.
Maybe I am more ready to be involved with someone than I thought—as long as the someone is Natalie.
I certainly want her.
Christ, do I want her.
I stride toward her, my pulse increasing with every step, my desire to kiss her again growing with each and every crunch of my boots in the snow.
And I don’t stop until my breath brushes her face.
“Nice job, Bugs.” My voice comes out hushed.
Half expecting her to back off, I’m pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t. Instead, she checks over her shoulder, as if making sure all the kids have gone and no one can see us standing so close.
“Thanks.” Her bright smile has a touch of a nervous twitch to it.
My eyes refuse to leave her lips.
She turns her body slightly, just a fraction, but it means she’s fully facing me. “And thanks for helping Prema with that turn.” Her voice is quiet. “Your way is safer.”
“I did my best to keep my eye on them. But it was kinda hard when all I wanted to look at was you.” Fuck, that was cheesy.
She giggles and looks at the couple of inches of snowy ground between our feet.
“You didn’t think that was a smooth line?” I ask.
“You don’t seem like a smooth line kind of guy.”
“What kind of guy do I seem like?”
She lifts her gaze without lifting her head, so she’s peering at me from under raised brows. “One who would just grab someone and kiss them if they wanted to.”
“You mean like this?”
I circle one hand around her waist, pinch her chin with the other, and pull her close to bring her smiling lips up toward mine.
“What the fuck are you doing with my cousin, Woods?”
Natalie bounces away from me like she has springs on her feet, and I turn to see Wyatt Stone walking toward us.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask my ex-best friend .
Then I process not just the surprise of his presence but what he said, and turn to Natalie. “Cousin?”
“Yeah.” She says it casually and walks toward him. “Gabe asks a good question, Wyatt. What are you doing here?”
They share a quick hug. The kind of hug that family members have when they haven’t seen each other for a while and aren’t that close.
“Had a few days off between games, and Mom asked me to bring some special fancy Christmas macarons from a special fancy bakery in New York up to Aunt Lou. She didn’t trust the delivery service to get them here in one piece.”
Look at the two of them. Acting completely normally, having a completely normal family conversation, while my brain rattles like a noisy maraca.
“Hang on.” I press my fingers to my forehead to try to stop what’s behind it from exploding. “You two are cousins ?”
“Yes,” Natalie repeats, her tone clearly saying she doesn’t understand why I didn’t get it the first time.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, didn’t you think there was a chance I might know him? Since we used to, you know, play for the same team ?” I jerk my thumb toward Wyatt, who was traded from the Apollos to our archrivals, the New Jersey Ironmen, at the end of the season before last.
“I did mention it,” she says. “Oh…”
She pauses and looks up at the darkening sky, thinking for a second.
Then her eyes widen with realization. “I remember now. I was about to tell you, then we almost hit that tree across the road and had to turn back and I was stuck at your house.”
“You’ve spent the night at this jerk’s house?” Wyatt exclaims.
A steaming rage boils inside me. I could deck him right now. And if there wasn’t a good chance of it making Natalie hate me, I would. Also, it would undoubtedly cause a whole bunch of bad press that would make the head coach yell a lot. So instead, I shove my clenched fists into my parka pockets.
“Yes,” Natalie tells him. “But only because the road was blocked.” Her eyes flash to mine, puzzled as to what all the fuss is about.
“Seriously?” Wyatt looks from side to side, like he’s searching for someone else to back up what a terrible decision that was on Natalie’s part. “You’ve spent the night under the same roof as him?”
“Leave her alone,” I bark. “It’s none of your business where she sleeps.”
“It is if she sleeps with you.”
“Who says I’m sleeping with him?” Natalie asks, her voice riddled with defensiveness.
“Aren’t you?” Wyatt makes a huge dramatic shrug.
“Not exac…” But one of her most attractive features is her inability to lie.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Wyatt puts his hands on the top of his head like it’s his brain’s turn to explode and moves in a circle for no apparent reason other than complete outrage has sent him into a spin.
“This guy is trouble, Nat,” he says when he’s facing us again. “Stay away from him.”
That’s it. Fuck this guy .
I stride between them, my back to Natalie, shielding her from Wyatt’s venom. “Please leave.”
“I can see my cousin whenever the fuck I want,” Wyatt says.
“Not while you’re in a mood like this, you can’t.” She might not be mine to defend, but I’m fucking defending her anyway.
Natalie’s hand is on my sleeve. “It’s fine. It’s fine.” She moves beside me. “Wyatt, are you staying at Aunt Lou’s tonight?”
“No,” he says. “Just came to drop off the oh-so-delicate cookies. She said you’d be out here rehearsing a kids’ play, and I thought I’d stop to say hi on my way back to Jersey.”
“Well, you’ve done that,” I say. “So you can go.”
“Where the fuck do you get off on throwing your weight around, Woods?” Wyatt puffs himself up like he’s challenging me to a fight.
Fury boils within me and fires out of my mouth. “No one throws orders at my girl.”
Fuck .
Wyatt’s eyes are so wide his eyeballs might fall out.
What the ever-loving fuck made me say that?
I’ve never referred to anyone as my girl in my life.
Is that even what she is? Or what she wants to be?
Christ, my subconscious got the better of my mouth.
“Your girl ?” he spits. “Nat is your girlfriend ?”
He shifts his dilated pupils to Natalie. “You’re his girlfriend? He’s your boyfriend? You two are like…” His sentence trails into disappointment more than outrage.
“I…no…” Natalie looks from him to me, back to him, then back to me, her expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I don’t know.”
She doesn’t know? Does that means she’d be okay with it if she was?
“Well, fuck this,” Wyatt says, throwing up his hands. “I’ve got training in the morning. And you know who our next game is against, Nat?”
She shakes her head.
“The Apollos, that’s who. And without your boyfriend here…” He pokes me in the bicep, and it’s all I can do not to grab him and toss him to the ground like I did to Nat in her bunny costume. “We are going to thrash the living shit out of them.”
I stare at his finger on my arm and replay Natalie’s reaction when I said, “my girl.” She didn’t recoil or look horrified. And that takes the sting out of me.
Instead of snapping Wyatt’s finger in two, I lower my tone. “It wasn’t all my fault, you know. It was you who stopped answering my calls.”
He pulls his hand away and snorts.
“I’m out.” And he turns and heads back toward the street.
“Merry Christmas,” Natalie calls after him.
And we stand in silence, side by side, until he gets into his BMW and drives away.
Then I turn to Natalie. “Did you really never think to tell me that he’s your cousin?”
“Like I said, I was about to that ni?—”
“Then we came to the fallen tree, yes. But, like, after that. You just never thought to mention it and see if I might know him? Seeing as how we’re professional athletes in the same sport in neighboring states?”
“I forgot he used to play for the Apollos. And I didn’t even know what team he’s with anymore.” Natalie is a picture of frustration. “We’re not really in touch. Just see each other at weddings and funerals. And I don’t watch hockey. Don’t care about hockey. Don’t even know the rules. And you and I haven’t even talked about hockey, so it hasn’t come up.”
Maybe that’s one of the amazing things about Natalie. That she’s from a completely different world and has absolutely zero interest in what I do. Isn’t impressed by it at all. I know she’d support me and root for me, but she’s not a fan. Not like my nightmare ex.
I sigh. The damage has been done. Wyatt’s backed up the awful stories Natalie’s already read. And there’s nothing I can do to fix it at the moment.
“At least now I remember who mentioned Warm Springs to me all that time ago,” I say. “It was Wyatt’s comments about it being a nice small town close to the city that came back to me when I was looking for a place to escape to.”
“Oh.” Natalie claps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes glisten at me. “So Wyatt is the best friend you fought with?”
I dig my teeth into my top lip and nod. It sounds so pathetic when she puts it like that. Like we’re two kids who got put on opposing sides in a schoolyard game and suddenly became mortal enemies.
“It never even crossed my mind to mention him,” she says. “I wish it had. Then this wouldn’t be so weird.”
Christ. I can’t let that jackass wreck everything. “I’m not who he said I am.”
She nods and thrusts her hands into her pockets, putting distance between us without taking a single step.
My chest twinges with the need to close the gap.
“Anyway,” I say with forced jollity. “Don’t we have to get going to my first ever annual pig lighting festival?”
My attempt to raise a laugh fails and falls like a wet rag splatting on the snowy ground between us.
There’s just a small smile, and even that seems strained.
“Yeah, we should go,” she says and turns toward where our cars are parked. “But I need to go home first to get changed. I’ll see you there.”
I walk beside her, desperate to put my arm around her, but that doesn’t feel like the right thing to do any longer.
If Wyatt Stone has just driven a tank through what I had going on here, I’ll fucking kill him the next time we’re on the ice together.