Page 48 of The Christmas You Crash

“Hello?”

“Hey, kid!” There’s low-level chatter in the background as Coach practically shouts his greeting. He’s not alone. Lexi folds her arms over her chest. When she starts to pull away, I tighten my grip around her waist. No way in hell am I letting her withdraw from me. As soon as this cursed phone call is over,I’m getting us back to where we were. Happy and carefree and enjoying our time together.

“Uh, hey, Coach. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, son. How’re things going at the cabin? I wanted to check in on you and make sure you’re doing all right.”

“Yeah,” I say, staring at Lexi. “W—” She elbows me in the ribs with wide eyes and makes a slashing motion with her hand over her throat.

Oh, shit. I almost just saidwe’re doing fine.

I try to cover it up with a cough. “Uh, well, yeah. I’m doing all right. It got a bit hairy for a while there. The power went out for a couple days, but it’s back on now.”

Coach makes a worried sound in his throat. “Aw, shit, kid. Are you okay?”

“Only lost one toe,” I reply as I make a silly face at Lexi. I need her to relax. I need her to stop trying to pull away from me.

Coach chuckles. “As long as it doesn’t affect your skating. You managing to enjoy your quiet Christmas away from the rest of the world? I didn’t plan on you getting stranded there.”

This time, I look Lexi right in her eyes, so she sees the truth of what I’m about to say. “Yeah, Coach. I’m more than enjoying it, actually. It’s the best Christmas I’ve had in years.”

That thaws some of the ice building up around her. Lexi’s emerald eyes soften, and she rests her forehead on my flour-coated chest. I hug her tight to me. I’m not lying. This is the best Christmas I’ve had since my dad passed. It’s the first time in years I haven’t felt crippled by the loss of my parents. The first time I’ve woken up excited for the day and everything it holds.

“That’s great, Ryder. I’m glad to hear it. And don’t worry, the company I pay to plow the drive should be out sometime tomorrow or the next day. They said the roads are still a mess, but as soon as they clear the main stretches, it shouldn’t be longbefore they get to the side roads. Think you’ll be okay to stay there a bit longer?”

“Yeah,” I tell him, with my cheek resting on the crown of his daughter’s head. “Yeah, I’ll be more than okay.”

There’s a shout in the background, followed by a roar of laughter, and then Coach pulls away from the phone, and his muffled voice tells them to be quiet. “Sorry,” he says. There’s humor lacing his words. “It’s a madhouse over here. I can’t keep these hooligans in line. They’re going to destroy my house. You good, kid?”

“Yeah, Coach. I’m good.”

“Then, I’ll let you go. Call if you need anything.”

Call if you need anything. Lexi must hear the words, because she curls in on herself in my arms. Her shoulders hunch until they hit my chest. Does he tell her to call him if she needs anything?

“Will do. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” There’s another wave of noise on the other end before it cuts off, leaving Lexi and I swaddled in thick silence.

Shoving my phone in my pocket, I wrap both arms around her still form and pull her tighter into my chest. Neither of us speaks for a few minutes, but the longer I keep her safe in my embrace, the more she melts. I don’t know what’s going through her head, but it can’t be anything good. I always looked up to Coach Cross, but the last few days have been eye opening. How can he be such a great coach and such a shitty father? Doesn’t he see how amazing Lexi is? Doesn’t he understand how much he’s missing out on?

I’m pissed, and without meaning to, I squeeze Lexi so tight to my chest that she lets out a squeak and then sneezes once, twice, three times. Chuckling, I move my hands to her shoulders andpull away. Her face is coated in flour and my chest has a face-shaped imprint on it. Lexi sneezes again.

“Sorry,” I get out through bursts of laughter. “Didn’t mean to choke you with the flour.”

She scowls at me, but there’s no real heat behind it. It’s adorable and even more ridiculous than it would have normally been because it looks like Lexi has a flour mustache. It ruins the badass appearance she’s going for. “Quit laughing at me, you giant shit.”

God, I can’t stop the laughter. “Chill, Oscar. You’re just so adorable with your flour mustache.” Using my thumb, I wipe it away from her upper lip. “I think you’ve found your signature look.”

Her powdery eyebrows draw together as her gaze narrows on me. “I’ll give you a signature look.” And before I can stop her, she spins out of my arms, drops her hand into the mixing bowl, grabs the waistband of my sweats, and dumps the powder down my pants and onto my dick.

All I can do is stare at this maddeningly wonderful woman as her eyes go wide as saucers and her lips open in a littleO. My expression probably mirrors it pretty closely. Her hand still grips my waistband, and she’s still holding it away from my body. I peer down at my junk. It’s almost completely coated in flour. Even my balls are covered. I glance up at her, then back down at my crotch. She looks too.

“You dredged my dick,” I say with a stunned voice. She lets my waistband go with a squeaked littleeep, and it bounces back against my skin with asnap. Slowly, so very slowly, I lift my chin and meet her wide gaze. “Oh, Oscar. This means war.”

twenty-four

RYDER

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