Page 14 of The Christmas You Crash

“Jesus, woman. You weren’t kidding.”

“Don’t yuck my yum,” I tease, bumping him with my shoulder. His responding chuckle vibrates through me.

“I’m not the one who equated your coffee preference with serial killers.” He spears me with an arched eyebrow and a crooked smirk. He probably has puck bunnies falling at his feet, with looks like that.

Another reason I can’t and won’t like him. You never know what’s an act and what’s real with these guys. Something I’ve learned the hard way. Still, I can banter and tease without dropping my panties, right?

“Yeah, but that’s a proven fact. A university in Austria did a study that found a correlation between preferring black coffee and being a sadistic psycho.” I grin at him over the lip of my favorite mug. It has an illustration of a hedgehog that saysI’m prickly without my coffee.

“I call bullshit,” Ryder says, laughing.

“Google it, then. You can’t make stuff like this up.” Don’t ask me what possessed me to do a search for that little tidbit, but I suppose it all comes down to my slightly unhealthy obsession with true crime stories.

Dark, messy waves bouncing, Ryder shakes his head but does as I suggest. His long fingers tap a steady rhythm across his phone screen, and I watch with a smirk as one eyebrow rises. He barks out a laugh, side-eyeing his still-black coffee. “I swear I’m not a psycho. I just have to watch my intake.”

“Suuuure,” I tease. “That’s what all the serial killers say.”

“Would a serial killer like the movie,Elf?” he asks.

Elf? “I don’t know, why?”

“Because I’ve been itching to watch it all month and haven’t had a chance. Why don’t I make us some breakfast and we eat on the couch while we watch it?”

He’s lucky thatElfis one of my all-time favorite Christmas movies. The offer to cook breakfast doesn’t hurt, either.

“There’s pancake mix and chocolate chips in the pantry. Or is that too much of a cheat for a big, muscly hockey player?”

A slow grin creeps across Ryder’s face. “Big and muscly, huh?”

It’s my turn for pink cheeks. I roll my eyes. “Shut up. All of you are big and muscly. Isn’t that basically a requirement of the job?”

He shrugs, still grinning. “Sure, Lexi. But to answer your question, yes, it’s probably too much of a cheat. But I’m going to have one, anyway. I’m going to make some eggs too. How do you like them?”

When was the last time someone made me breakfast that wasn’t being paid to do so by a restaurant? I can’t even remember. It’s nice.

“Over easy?”

Ryder nods. “You got it.” He grabs the creamer from the counter and pours a small amount into his coffee. “And now that I’ve proven I’m not a psycho, I’ll get started on that.”

God, he’s charming. Not good.

“Want some help?”

“Nope. Go shower, if you want to. I’ve got this.”

Chewing on my bottom lip, I study him for a few moments while he putters around the kitchen, opening cabinets and searching for supplies. I don’t know how to feel about any of this. I’m still annoyed that my plans for the week were shot to hell, but I also can’t deny that it could have been much worse. Ryderis sweet and charming, and he doesn’t seem to carry an ego the size of a jet plane, like so many other pro hockey players I’ve had the misfortune of meeting. I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing, or if it’s going to spell trouble for me.

I guess, for now, all I can do is take it as it comes and hope this snow stops falling.

eight

RYDER

My mind isin the gutter.

Here I am, making chocolate chip pancakes and eggs, and all I can think about is Lexi showering a few rooms away. It makes me feel like a creep, but shit. Lexi’s ass in those tight green leggings as she twisted into impressive yoga poses will be burned in my brain forever.

Her body is perfection. She’s strong. Toned, but still curvy. It’s obvious she takes care of herself. I’d gotten a quick glimpse of her naked body when she thought I was trying to murder her, of course, but my eyes were glued to her perfect tits, so I didn’t really see much of the rest of her.

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