Chapter 8
Holden
The morning air was crisp and cold, but it hadn’t stopped people from coming to the resort’s outdoor ice rink for the Holiday Hockey Shootout.
A crowd of people surrounded the rink to watch the paying patrons play the game.
It wasn’t anything fancy. Each person would take a shot, try to score, and every puck that hit the back of the net meant more money raised for the Mynt to Make a Difference charity.
It was my job to hang by the shooting lane, hand out some tips, sign a few pucks, and smile for the cameras. Easy enough.
My eyes scanned the crowd as I stood alone on the ice waiting for the game to officially start. I tried to act nonchalant about it, pretending I wasn’t looking for a particular woman with honey-blond hair and brown eyes.
I’d been surprised when Alex had said he was leaving for a work meeting, but I was even more surprised he’d asked me to keep his girlfriend company.
Although he didn’t know Belle and I weren’t strangers—that we had spent an afternoon together and shared a kiss, one I still found myself thinking about.
When my eyes landed on the beautiful woman I had been searching for, she was bundled up in a puffy coat, her hands stuffed in her pockets and a smirk on her face that said, Looking for me?
Like she’d known I was looking for her in the crowd.
She gave me a wave, to which I gave her a head nod in return.
The announcer’s voice crackled over the speakers, taking my attention from Belle and kicking off the event. Good. I didn’t need to be thinking about Belle or that look she had given me or how I’d probably be spending more time with her later.
Once people were lined up and ready to shoot, I was able to focus on the reason I was here.
The first few shooters missed the net entirely, but then a few people sent the puck in, throwing up their arms like they’d just won the Cup. I tossed out a few encouraging remarks and signed some pucks but mostly kept my head down.
It wasn’t until a little kid shuffled up, helmet too big for his head, and stick dragging behind him, that I broke my routine. The kid looked like he was about to topple over.
I skated over without thinking, crouching down beside him. “Here,” I said, adjusting his tiny hands on the stick, lining up his shot. “Focus on the corner. Nice and easy.”
He nodded, his face scrunched up in concentration.
Pulling back the stick, he let it swing forward, connecting with the puck with a soft smack.
The puck wobbled across the ice, the crowd seeming to hold its breath as we watched in anticipation.
It clanged off the post, and as it slid into the back of the net, everyone let out a cheer like he’d scored a hat trick.
The kid beamed up at me, and before I could stop myself, I ruffled his helmet and handed him a signed puck. He skated off to his mom, who was waiting to wrap him up in a big hug.
After that, more kids joined the line, and I found myself kneeling down, showing them how to line up their shots, steadying their hands. I hadn’t expected to help coach kids today, but watching their faces light up when they scored? Yeah. Made the people and the chaos worth it.
The game was finally over, and I chanced a glance over to Belle, who was watching me with a smile on her face like she knew more about me than I had wanted to show, causing me to quickly look away.
She had me all wrong. I wasn’t coldhearted by any means, but I wasn’t someone who got all warm and cozy with people.
This had been a one-off, something I couldn’t explain.
There had just been something about that little boy that had me skating out to him.
And then it wasn’t like I could turn down the rest of the kids.
I hadn’t been doing anything special. Just fulfilling my responsibility to Mynt.
Signing autographs. Smiling for the cameras. Same thing anyone else would’ve done.
I made my way off the ice, shaking a few parents’ hands before I was finally ushered away by one of the security guards there to help with the week’s events.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Belle walking toward me. I stopped, motioning to the guard that I wanted her to join me.
“Hey,” she said, coming up beside me as we continued back inside. “You did great out there. Although, I was hoping to see more of those hockey skills you kept bragging about.” Her teasing grin sent my pulse tripping over itself.
“You know, I’m a professional hockey player. If you wanted to see a highlight reel, you could find it online,” I said, teasing back.
“You want me to internet stalk you?” she asked, feigning surprise.
“Are you sure about that? Who knows what I might find. I might learn you’re secretly a sock model.
Or that you’re banned from Chuck E. Cheese for life after an incident with the claw machine.
Maybe you’re an amateur competitive eater who only eats grilled cheese sandwiches during the offseason.
” She grinned, clearly enjoying herself as she kept going.
“Or—oh! What if you’re the secret leader of a nationwide underground snowball-fight league? ”
I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of her accusations. But then she added with a mischievous smile, “Or maybe…you’re the December feature in Hockey Hunks of the Year.” The flush on her cheeks was visible before she ducked her head quickly. “Forget I said that.”
This was the first time since seeing her again that she reminded me of the woman I’d met in New York, instead of being the polished, buttoned-up version she was around my cousin.
And yes, she had gotten a little flirty with her last comment and had let me know she thinks I’m a hunk, which I didn’t hate, but I didn’t want this version of her to leave.
So instead of letting the comment slide like I probably should have, I found myself egging it on.
“Mr. December, huh?” I said with a smirk, giving her a sideways glance.
She peeked up at me through her lashes, the corners of her mouth twitching like she was fighting a smile. “Don’t let it go to your head, Mr. December. I’m just saying, objectively speaking…you’d sell a lot of calendars.”
How could I not let it go to my head? Knowing she found me attractive enough to be in some sexy hockey player calendar inflated my ego, even if she was saying it objectively.
As we entered the resort lobby, I tried to focus on anything other than how she was walking so close to me, her arm brushing mine every so often.
“So,” I said, shoving my hands into my pockets, “what’s next on your Christmas activity agenda?”
“Well,” she said, pulling her phone out of her pocket and clicking on the resort app. “On the resort schedule today, we have cookie decorating and a snowman-building competition.”
“Cookie decorating?” I repeated, raising a brow.
She nodded, the excitement in her eyes making it impossible to say no.
“It’s in the Fireside Lounge,” she added, slipping her phone away. “Come on, Mr. December. Show me those artistic skills.”
With a groan I didn’t mean, I let her drag me toward the lounge, already smelling the warm sugar and butter before we even got through the doors.
Several tables and chairs were set up with premade sugar cookies and whipped frosting, ready for decoration. With only a few chairs left, we found two stations together in the corner.
Belle immediately grabbed a sugar cookie in the shape of a Christmas tree and picked up the piping bag filled with green frosting.
“Every year the first cookie I decorate is a Christmas tree.” She squeezed the piping bag, expertly decorating the cookie in short brushes of frosting to make it look like a pine tree.
“What about you?” she asked, glancing over at me.
“Is cookie decorating a family tradition of yours?”
It was such an innocent question, one that most wouldn’t even bat an eye at.
But me? Yeah, that question was loaded. I pushed my racing thoughts into the furthest recesses of my mind.
Family. Christmas. Traditions. Those words all felt like glass splinters—small enough to ignore if you didn’t look too closely, but sharp enough to cut you wide open if you did.
I shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Not really,” I said, reaching for a cookie and a piping bag even though I had no clue what I was doing. “First time for everything, right?”
She stopped decorating her cookie and looked at me in shock. “You’ve never decorated Christmas cookies?”
I shook my head, looking down at the stocking-shaped cookie in front of me, not wanting to see the look of pity in her eyes I was sure I would see if I met her gaze.
A beat of silence passed before Belle’s cheery voice said, “Well, you’re in luck. I happen to be a sugar cookie Christmas decorating connoisseur.”
I looked up at her in surprise to see a teasing glint in her eye.
Most people would’ve wanted to ask questions, to dig into what I didn’t say. But she didn’t. She just…moved us past it, like it wasn’t even an issue. She didn’t press me for more details or make me feel like I had to explain myself. And for some reason, that made my chest feel a little lighter.
“First,” she said, “You need to pick a color for your stocking.”
I picked up the red piping bag, going for a classic look.
Belle set down her own cookie and picked up one of the stocking-shaped ones to decorate with me. Grabbing the white frosting, she said, “Then you want to outline the cookie before filling in the middle.”
I watched as she effortlessly traced the edge of her cookie, making it look easy.
I gave it a shot, squeezing the bag—but apparently I squeezed too hard, because a big blob of red frosting splattered onto my cookie.
A giggle escaped her as her gaze bounced to my bicep. “Don’t know your own strength?”
A flush crawled up the back of my neck. I wasn’t used to messing up in front of people, even on something as dumb as cookie decorating.
Belle must’ve noticed, because she set down her piping bag and smiled at me, all easy and bright.
“The great thing about decorating cookies is there’s really no wrong way to do it,” she said.
“They’re fun to make and eat no matter what they look like.
” Her voice was so genuine, so sure, that the knot in my chest loosened a little.
I looked down at my sad blob of a stocking. “So what you’re saying is, I’m a natural.”
She laughed, and the sound went straight to my chest. “Something like that.” She reached over with a toothpick and started to smooth out the red blob.
Her sweet scent floated over to me, her proximity causing me to swallow.
I tried not to focus on her profile, the way her eyes scrunched in concentration, the way her lips pushed out as she worked to fix my mistake, the way the hairs that had escaped her ponytail rested along her jawline and neck.
There was something about this woman that made my thoughts go hazy.
I had the irrational urge to reach out and tuck the soft golden hair behind her ear, thinking that maybe my touch would make her turn to face me so I could kiss her again—slow and sweet, like that kiss we’d shared under the mistletoe.
“There,” she said, breaking me from my trance.
I cleared my throat and looked down at the cookie, surprised to see she had been able to make it look like I hadn’t squirted a huge glob of frosting on the cookie.
“You’re a miracle worker,” I said, aiming for casualness even though my voice came out a little rough.
Belle grinned, a little smug, and reached for her own cookie again. “You’re not my first cookie-rescue mission.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
She nodded primly, like she wasn’t teasing. “There was this one time I helped a four-year-old make a reindeer out of icing and pretzels. I’m basically a professional.”
I snorted. “Are you comparing me to a four-year-old?”
“If the piping bag fits…” she said, flashing me a grin.
I shook my head, pretending to be offended. “That’s it. You’re asking for it.”
Before she could react, I swiped a little red frosting onto the tip of my finger and dabbed it lightly on the end of her nose.
She froze, blinking at me in shock, then let out a delighted laugh.
“Oh, you are so going down,” she said, reaching for the white frosting.
I smirked, watching her. “You sure about that, Rudolph?”
She gasped and wiped at her nose. “Holden!”
My grin widened at her response. “What? I think you make a cute Rudolph.”
Her cheeks instantly flushed, and I was so transfixed by that pretty pink blush of hers, I didn’t anticipate the swipe of frosting she smeared across my cheek.
I blinked, realizing too late what she’d done. “Oh, it’s on now,” I said, lunging at her with the frosting bag in hand.
Soon we were both laughing, dodging, and trying to smear frosting on each other’s faces. She was faster than I expected, but I managed to tag her on the cheek with more frosting.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d joked around like this with someone. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d let my guard down long enough to just have fun. It felt easy with her—too easy, like the walls I usually kept around me didn’t stand a chance.
When we got a glare from the hotel employee in charge of the activity, who looked like she was seconds away from kicking us out, we called a truce.
Both of us were out of breath, laughing, and covered in frosting. Belle wiped her hands on a napkin, glancing over at me with a smile that made something warm settle in my chest.
“That was fun,” she said, still giving me that bright smile of hers.
“Yeah, it was.” The surprise in my voice was genuine.
I wasn’t sure how this woman had gotten me to decorate Christmas cookies, get into a frosting fight, and laugh more than I could ever remember, but I was enjoying myself too much to take the time to analyze the why behind it. Being with her felt like a high, and I never wanted to come down from it.
Suddenly a twinge of doubt mixed with guilt crept in. She had a boyfriend—my cousin. I didn’t know what was going on between Belle and me or if it was one-sided on my part, but I couldn’t stop myself from wanting more time, wanting more of these carefree moments with her.
Thankfully we still had a snowman-building competition ahead of us, where I could have an excuse to keep spending time with her even if every laugh, every look, was pulling me deeper into something I couldn’t understand and definitely shouldn’t want.