Page 35 of It's Mother-Pucking Christmas!

“If you hadn’t broken up with that dentist…”

“Do you have any idea how much it costs to get a chipped tooth fixed these days?” Uncle Nate told her.

“Oh, is that cake?” My sister looked at the plate.

“No.” Gracie shoved the last of it in her mouth and swallowed. “It’s not.”

As I laythere in the dark after most of my family had vacated—minus three cousins and a sister all crowded in my bed like we were in a Victorian slum—I fretted. Ryder still hadn’t texted me back. Were they right?

Maybe I should show up at his practice. I’d get up early, make him breakfast. Wear a skirt.

Shit, that meant I had to shave my legs. Probably elsewhere too.

“What the hell am I doing?” I whispered to the ceiling. “I don’t want Ryder to fall in love with me. That’s not a good thing. I have to throw him off his game, not completely shatter his heart.”

16

RYDER

“Somehow,” Coach Kowalski said at the end of practice, “this is the best I’ve ever seen you play.”

“Thanks. I—”

“Don’t overdo it!” the man bellowed, making me squint. “I need you to peak this weekend. Utah!”

Rick pretended to hide behind Mike.

“Don’t let him overdo it. I am not losing this game, you understand me, son?”

Rick saluted.

“Now get off my ice.”

“Yessir.”

I was itching to text Dakota back or, better yet, call her or, even better, see her. I wanted her in my arms. Forever.

“No!” Rick barked as I stripped off the sweaty jersey.

“I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“You blew your text message load last night. At least wait until after lunch to text her.”

“And text her something light and funny,” Mike added. “Not a link to an article like you did that one time.”

“It was a good article, okay?” I protested as the guys turned on me.

“If you actually like this girl and don’t want to blow it, you’ll do what we say,” Mike warned.

“I do. I am. I really want this to work.”

I was setting a timer on my phone for when it was acceptable to text Dakota as I headed out of the locker room, keys in hand.

“You hungry, Boy Scout?”

I glanced up to see her there, inexplicably, like she’d stepped out of my daydreams, standing in the lobby. The morning sun streaming through the windows lit her up like an angel. She was holding a basket, bouncing it in her hands against her leg. Dakota was wearing a green coat with big brass buttons, tights, and brown boots. She looked like she belonged on a Christmas card or a movie poster.

Or in my bed, naked against that dark-green coat.

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