Page 43 of It's Mother-Pucking Christmas!

“Some people didn’t leave, obviously, but those were the people who lived off campus, mainly. Only younger students lived on campus, except me because I had a special financial aid package because of foster care and—sorry.” He cut himself off. “You don’t want to hear all that.” He crumpled up his sandwich wrapper.

“No.” I took his hand. “I want to know everything about you. Like why did you choose B school?”

“I was dumb,” he said with a rueful laugh. “I thought a business degree meant you were guaranteed to get a high-paying job. Turns out it’s just for rich kids to be parked at until they take over their dad’s company. If you’re just a rando, you aren’t even qualified for temp work. I should have done accounting. Will do accounting. I’ll start on the certificate in January.”

“While trying to play hockey?”

“It’s just the minors.” He shrugged one of those massive shoulders.

“Dude, you keep playing like you do, and one of the really, really big teams is going to sign you,” I urged.

He rolled his eyes, his lower lip catching in his teeth. It had no right to be that sexy.

“Hmm,” he said. “I don’t know. I kind of messed up when I was younger. Didn’t enter the draft even though teams were asking me. College was offering a scholarship and the draft… You never know, you know? Then I was in a weird age range when I got out of the NCAA and wasn’t going to get hired. Spent too much time chasing hockey and didn’t do an internship that would get me a job out of college.”

“It’s hard if you don’t have anyone there to help show you the signposts,” I assured him. “I mean, I had not just my parents but aunts and uncles, cousins,so many cousins. My uncle basically gave me a job at his company, then my cousin took over and promoted me. It’s hard, is all I’m saying. Don’t beat yourself up. But don’t give up on hockey. It kills me to say this as an Arctic Avengers fan, but you’re really good. Better than anyone I’ve seen. Even better than a lot of the NHL players.”

Ryder smirked. “You really do want to skip to the end of the third date, huh.”

I grabbed his hands. “No, I mean, yes, but, dude, you have hockey IQ. I’ve seen you play. It’s like you have the map of the game in your head and you’re five steps ahead of everyone else and know where the puck is going to be. People will pay a lot of money for that hockey brain.” I ruffled his hair.

He made a face. “It’s not realistic.”

“Don’t you want to play hockey? I can tell you love it.”

He gave a shake of his head. “Hockey is… It’s a game. It’s not real life, you know.”

“You’re the captain of the team.”

“It’s kind of a substitute for family.” He looked out over the Christmas market. “You know, being on a team, the camaraderie, the coaches. I just… That was the only time I could really get it. Then the people-pleasing tendencies tookover. I didn’t want the coaches to be mad at me, didn’t want to disappoint my teammates and have them not like me.”

“And you suddenly tripped and fell into becoming one of the hottest players in New England?”

“You’re really overselling me. The only reason people are talking about me was because of the stalker.”

“I’m so sorry about my grandmother,” I apologized again. “My aunt is keeping her locked in the house. And I’ll make sure that she donates the money she’s making talking about you online to the animal shelter.”

He suddenly scooped me up with his large hands on my waist like I weighed nothing. “Then make it up to me.”

Was this it? I stared down into those glacier-blue eyes.

“Come ice-skating with me.”

18

RYDER

“Didn’t you spent five hours on the ice already today?”

“That was work. This is fun.”

“You’re so wholesome.” Dakota kissed my nose, my brow, my mouth. “Ice-skating in the Christmas market.”

“Since it’s not a date,” I told her, “I think we can be clichéd. Besides, the rink is really beautiful. I love skating outside. They have it decorated, and there’s a big Christmas tree in the middle.”

“I haven’t been to this rink since I was a teenager,” Dakota said as we approached the sparkling outdoor rink. People in coats and gloves skated around in slow circles, around and around like the music box one of my foster moms had kept on her dresser that I wasn’t allowed to touch.

Dakota did a double take when I pulled my skates out of my bag.

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