Chapter 3
THREE
NICK
Evie was the cutest girl I’d ever seen. There were very few women who could wear what looked to be a senior citizen’s elf costume and still make my dick hard. I’d wasted plenty of my prime hockey years with puck bunnies, and I wished that Evie was more like them.
Because puck bunnies are easy to forget.
The connection I felt with the girl who smelled like cinnamon buns was bad news.
I wasn’t going to be in Chance Rapids for long.
There was a reason that I was staying at an inn and not locking myself into a rental—it was because I had a job to do.
Once that job was done, I was going to be like Santa after Christmas Day—gone.
I couldn’t get attached to the town, the team, or the cute girl holding the pastries in my passenger seat.
Flirting with her had been a mistake. One that I couldn’t make again.
“The entrance to the inn is over there. You can park in the lot across the street,” she said.
The inn looked like it had been cut out of a small-town greeting card and glued onto the street.
It was a white clapboard, three-story home with black shutters.
Snow blanketed the window planters filled with cedar boughs, dogwood, and shiny red Christmas balls.
Each window was lit up with warm white Christmas lights.
Compared to the colorful carnival of Main Street, Snowy Peaks Inn looked classy—and far too nice for a guy like me.
Instead of pulling into the parking lot as directed, I stopped directly at the rear entrance to the inn.
“No. Over there. You can’t park here.” Evie took off her mitten and pointed to the lot. It was a sweet gesture, but I hadn’t made a mistake. I got out of the truck and opened the passenger door.
“I promised that I’d deliver you safely to your place.” I took the box from her hands and held out mine. She looked at it like she’d never seen a hand before, but then slid her mittened hand into mine. I helped her out of the truck, but as soon as her feet touched the ground, she let go.
“Granny spy, I will accompany you to your book club mission.” I crooked my elbow and waited for her to grab onto it. She didn’t.
“Thank you, Nick. I’m pretty sure I can take it from here. I’ll send Edward out to get your bags. I need to get these beavers into the old biddies before they get cold.”
She seemed to be in a rush to get away from me. As she reached the door, it was opened by an old man with gnarled hands. “Edward, could you get Nick’s bags. He’s the missing check-in from yesterday.”
“I’ll be right out.” His voice was as weak as he looked, his body shaped into a question mark.
“Bye, Nick. I’ll see you around.” Evie waved, and with a whirl of red and green stripes, a tinkle of tiny bells, and a whiff of cinnamon, she was gone.
I paused for a moment and noticed Edward struggling to pull on his gloves. Sprinting to the truck, I pulled out my bags and dumped them in the lobby before he was able to get the second glove on his hand.
“That’s everything.” I nudged the bag with my toe. “I’ll be back to check in.”
When I returned to the lobby the old doorman was nowhere to be seen. A little old lady stood behind the desk. White hair curled out from underneath a long green hat that trailed over her shoulder, earrings that matched Evie’s hung from her ears.
“You must be Nicholas Tinsel.” She smiled. “We were expecting you yesterday.” She held out her hand. “I’m Janie, but you can call me GJ.”
I shook her birdlike hand, hoping I wasn’t crushing it. “I’m so sorry. I must have gotten my days mixed up.” I was 99 percent sure that I wasn’t a day late, but I couldn’t bring myself to correct GJ.
“It happens to the best of us.” She winked. “We have a no-show policy, but since you’re the newest Bobcat, I’ll let it slide. We’re so excited for the Christmas game. Go Cats!” She raised her fist in the air like a cheerleader.
When Coach Coalman told me that Chance Rapids was hockey crazy, I thought he was exaggerating. So far, I had gotten out of a stunt driving ticket, Muriel had refused my money for dinner, and I was above Grandma Janie’s policies.
Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad gig after all. “Are you a fan?”
“All my life.” She reached under the desk and pulled out a vintage jersey. The Bobcat’s current jersey was green and white, but the one in GJ’s hands was black with a mean-looking striped cat smoking a cigar in the middle. “My first boyfriend, Clarence, was the captain.”
I touched the sleeve of the wool jersey. “This is awesome. You wouldn’t get away with a logo like that these days.”
GJ rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. They don’t even do the outhouse race right anymore.”
“Outhouse race?” My brow furrowed, imagining…well, a lot of flying shit. “Sounds messy.”
Her laugh was that of a lifelong smoker, hoarse and hacky. “It was total carnage back in the day.”
Edward, the bellman, appeared at my side. “You better do a better job of explaining that contest, Janie. The boy here has probably never been to a small-town winter carnival.”
I shrugged. “It’s true. I’ve never been in a small town at Christmas.”
GJ clapped her hands together. “You’re in for a treat. It’s the best time of year. The community comes together, there’s caroling, we make taffy on the snow, the whole town goes to the hockey game—”
“The outhouse race,” Edward interrupted. “You were explaining that one.”
Evie hinted that she was worried that GJ was forgetting things, and it was clear that Edward had noticed the same phenomenon. I didn’t mind, I would’ve listened to her rattle off all the events, knowing that I would never attend a single one of them.
“Right.” GJ snapped her fingers. “The contestants built a shitter.” Her cheeks reddened, “I mean, an outhouse out of whatever they could find, put it on skis, and sent it down the mountain.” She pointed in the distance to where I assumed a mountain stood.
“Whoever made it to the bottom in one piece won.”
“So, the outhouse isn’t operating, or full of any kind of…” My voice trailed off.
GJ slapped the desk. “No. I can see why you looked so horrified. Nowadays, they run down a gradual incline, holding onto the damn thing. The safety police took all the fun out of it.”
Edward grunted. “Debbie Millman broke her pelvis, and the next year her brother Dwayne needed seventeen stitches after the race. There’s a reason they switched it up.”
GJ swatted her hand at Edward. “Anyway, there are lots of fun activities this week.” She took a pamphlet from the plastic holder on the counter.
“Here’s the list of events.” She set the sweater aside and took a wooden circle on a piece of twine from the drawer.
“Here’s a pass. This will get you into everything, even the hockey games. ”
My heart sank for the old lady. Had she already forgotten our conversation?
“Oh, where is my head? You’re the star!”
Relieved, I took a deep breath. “Thank you, GJ, but Christmas isn’t really my thing. Please give this to someone who will use it.”
She blinked. “You’re not going to the carnival?”
“I’ll be busy practicing hockey. There won’t be any time.” It was easier than explaining that I hated Christmas. I’d rather ride down a mountain in a fully functioning porta-john than be anywhere there might be caroling.
“Of course, dear. Here’s your key. You go get some rest. I’ve got a lot of money on the Christmas game.”
“For Pete’s sake, Janie. Leave the man alone. There’s no betting allowed on the games anymore.”
GJ clicked her tongue. “You see, they’re ruining all the fun.”
If GJ was this wild in what appeared to be her eighties, I wondered what twenty-five-year-old Janie was like, running around Chance Rapids, betting on hockey games and cheering on death traps as they careened down a mountain.
I took the old-fashioned skeleton key. “What’s my room number?”
“You’re in the penthouse.” GJ smiled. “I gave you an upgrade. My brother will take your bag.”
Before Edward could reach for the straps I hoisted the duffel bag on my shoulder. “I’ve got it, but I’ll need help with this key.” I handed it to Edward. “Could you help me with this?”
“Of course, Mr. Tinsel.” Edward took the key and shuffled to the stairwell. “Follow me.”
“Enjoy your stay, Nicky.”
I stiffened. No one called me Nicky. If it had been anyone but a sweet old lady, I would’ve corrected her—and not in a nice way.
“Oh. She raised her index finger. I know you’re only at the inn until you find an apartment. I’ve got the entire book club on it. We’ll get you a great place to live, but don’t rush, you can stay here as long as you’d like.”
It wasn’t going to be necessary, and a lump formed in my throat. If the Chance Rapids hockey team was so beloved, I was going to be the villain in this Christmas story.