Page 11 of The Christmas You Crash

She must have been worried. Rachel only calls me Alexis when she’s pissed or exasperated.

Me

Well, there’s no yeti, but there is a hockey player. And I did think he was going to murder me for a minute there.

Those three little dots flash across the screen, disappear, then flash again.

Rach

WHAT? Explain. Now.

Me

Well, seems Dear Old Dad gave his set of keys to the cabin to one of his players. My dad must have a real interest in this one, because he banished Ryder to the cabin when he almost got into a fight with some rival who injured him on the ice. I walked inside after a naked dip in the hot tub and found a massive stranger wearing leather gloves standing there.

You accused him of being a serial killer, didn’t you?

In my defense, he LOOKED like a serial killer.

You have got to stop listening to so many true-crime podcasts.

Never. But that’s not the worst of it.

Oh, god. Do I want to know?

He saw me naked.

WHAT?

I threw my wineglass and bottle at him, and when he didn’t run away, I got ready to fight for my life and accidentally dropped my towel.

Is he hot?

What difference does that make? I tell you this complete stranger I thought was going to garrote me saw me naked, and your first question is if he’s hot?

I think it’s a totally valid question. I’m trying to decide if this is the plot of a holiday rom-com or a holiday slasher flick.

Neither. God, you suck.

So, what happened? Did he leave?

I wish. His car got stuck. We’re snowed in together.

He’s hot, isn’t he?

Fine. Yes. He’s hot. Are you happy?

Very. Because you’re living a rom-com. Which is great, because it’s been way too long since you cut loose and got some dick.

I’ve dated plenty of guys.

Not since you started your master’s.

Whatever. That doesn’t matter, because I’m sure as hell not doing anything with my dad’s player.

Maybe the best way to get your dad’s attention is by banging one of his players. It’s pretty much the only angle you haven’t tried.

No. There will be no banging.

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