Chapter 3
Juliet
Someone is already speaking into a microphone when I pull open the door for the Mynt Mingle and Jingle.
We’re late, and a man—who kind of looks like Santa would if he wore a red suit covered in peppermints instead of his classic red suit—is talking animatedly into the microphone all about how this week is about giving instead of selling.
This must be Mr. Mynt, the guy in charge of this whole event, clothing brand, and the resort.
While I do find Christmas pretty magical, he seems a bit over the top.
“There are two seats over there,” Blair whispers, pointing to our right. “We’ll go sit over there. You should go see if you can sit by those people; they look like they might be athletes.”
The group she points toward is sitting near the back, which is fine by me.
Even if I’d rather hang out with Blair and Parker.
As I approach the seats, Mr. Mynt says something about an icebreaker and gives instructions.
People stand, and I’m moved into a small circle where we all sit on the chairs that people have been moving around.
There’s chatter throughout the room, and I glance around, trying to see where Parker and Blair ended up, but they’re lost in the mass of athletes.
I don’t actually know if they were supposed to come to this with me since it might only be for the athletes, but I doubt Blair will care.
When I turn back to my group, a girl with dark hair is finishing answering the question.
“…would be Prancer because everyone loves watching me on the green, and I always give a good show, bringing more viewers to the game of golf.”
I swivel in my seat so I can see what the question actually is up on a screen at the front of the room.
If I were one of Santa’s reindeer, who would I be and why?
What kind of question is that? I wonder what Parker’s answer would be.
I shouldn’t wonder that at all. Just because he grew up and is all hot now doesn’t mean I need to get close to him; in fact, I should do the opposite and stay as far away from him as I can.
Okay, the question. I don’t even know the names of the reindeer.
How am I supposed to answer this question?
Another girl answers while I discreetly pull out my phone and search “names of Santa’s reindeer.
” Then it’s my turn. “Hi everyone,” I say with more energy than I feel.
This may be silly, but I’ll be spending the week with some of these people; I may as well get to know them.
Plus, if I focus on them, I’ll have less time to think about Parker’s glasses.
“I’m Juliet Morgan and I play soccer in DC and for the U.S.
women’s team. And I guess if I had to pick a reindeer, I’d pick Rudolph, if that counts, because when I get cold, my nose turns bright red. ”
Our small group of five chuckles at this.
Chloe, an ice skater, goes next, then a hockey player named Holden goes last, talking about how fast he is on the ice.
We should race—I wonder if he’s as fast on the field as he is on the ice.
I don’t like hockey players much; they’re too grumpy and all that, and this one seems like all the others I’ve met.
Should I mention that my one and only ex was a soccer player, and that might be why I don’t have a favorable opinion about male athletes at the moment?
Thankfully, we’re all saved from making awkward small talk as “Jingle Bells” plays over the loudspeakers and Mr. Mynt returns to the stage.
“We’ve got just enough time for a group photo before our VIP meet-and-greet.
If you’re not an athlete, we’ll have you exit the south door. ”
After a lot of shuffling and several phone cameras pointed in our direction, we’re ushered to our different tables to meet the fans who got the VIP tickets.
I wish Blair were here; there’s a good chance she read the welcome packet more thoroughly than I did and would have a better idea of who received these tickets.
Did people have to buy them? Did they win them?
I’ll never know because the doors open and people come flooding in. They’re buzzing around to various tables, and pretty soon I’m signing photos with my face on them and my jersey that people brought, and taking pictures with fans. Time simply flies by.
By the end of the meet-and-greet, my brain is fried.
I do better on the field. I do better with my team.
I love meeting fans; it’s one of the fun parts of my job, but it’s also exhausting when I’m the one who has to do all the talking.
Usually, at things like this, my team is also here, and I don’t have to do all the talking and smiling.
Today, though, it was all me. I mean, there are a ton of other athletes here, and their tables all looked as busy as mine, but I’m drained.
I pull out my phone to text Blair.
Me
Where are you? I could use a massage right about now. Or food, I’m starving.
She texts back almost immediately.
Blair
We’re just hanging out in the lobby. You should come smile at Parker or bring him an athlete who will make him stop being so grumpy. We can eat at one of the restaurants at the resort or one in town.
The thought of introducing a different athlete to Parker makes me frown.
But why shouldn’t I? He’s not mine to claim.
And if I think he’s attractive, I’m sure other people will too.
But right now, I’m not in the mood to talk to more strangers, so I slip out of the big ballroom and into the lobby, scanning the very decorated space for my friends.
I find them sitting on one of the large sofas that sit around a Christmas tree.
They haven’t seen me yet, so I give myself exactly ten seconds to admire Parker and all of his gorgeousness.
Men should not be allowed to wear glasses, because their glasses are doing such weird things to my brain.
He glances up and our eyes meet. His small smile grows into a wide smirk before he lifts a hand to wave me over. I’ve been caught. There’s no way around it now.
I know that he knows that I was totally staring at him.
Blair, thankfully, is looking down at her phone, oblivious to me ogling her brother, which I should not be doing.
Ten seconds was too much and not enough all at the same time.
I have got to get a grip. Maybe I actually should introduce Parker to one of the girls I met today.
Being jealous would be better than getting caught staring.