Page 17 of Holiday Hostilities

“I love it.” I grab a bottle of Prime and toss it in my recycling bag, ignoring the way my chest tightens a little at my own lack of happy memories of my family spending holidays together.

Jing is a third-generation Chinese American, and I think it’s awesome that her family gathers to celebrate the holiday while putting their own spin on it.

“Are you still going to the game?” Jing asks as she ties a knot at the top of her trash bag.

“Yup. Sure you don’t wanna come?”

Jing loves hockey—well, she loves hockey players, to be exact. The woman has clearly read way too many sports romance books, because she seems to have a very skewed version of what these men are really like.

“I totally would any other time, but…hot pot.”

“I get it,” I tell her as I rummage in my bag for one of my nut-free granola bars—all this talk of food is making me hungry. “I’d probably go for the hot pot, too, under different circumstances.”

One of those circumstances being that, since moving here, I haven’t managed to make it to a single one of Jake’s games.Though, in my defense, I happened to be working during every home game so far.

I’m looking forward to seeing the famous Atlanta vs Vegas Thanksgiving Special in person. When I was living in the UK, I watched every one of Jake’s games I could on TV, often staying up until the wee hours. I’m my brother’s biggest fan and am endlessly proud of him… even if supporting Jake means supporting Aaron by default.

I can’t believe they’ve ended up on the same NHL team after playing together at school all those years ago. Jake went on to play college hockey at McGill, eventually getting picked up byMontreal, then being traded to Boston, before finally ending up in Atlanta. Aaron, meanwhile, declared for the draft his senior year of high school and went third. He’s been playing for the Cyclones his entire career.

“I’m honestly sad to miss it.” Jing sighs dreamily. “Blow Dallas Cooper a kiss from me.”

This makes me laugh. “My brother would have a conniption.”

“Fine. Blow one to Aaron Marino instead.”

“I will absolutely not be doing that in this lifetime.”

Jing rolls her eyes at me. “I still don’t understand how you could possibly think he’s not a fine specimen of a man.”

“I never said that,” I correct her. Objectively, Aaronisdisgustingly good-looking and I hate that for him. “What he looks like is totally irrelevant to me, because the man is insufferable and lives to make me miserable. Has done so since we were teenagers.”

“Still,” Jing continues all swooningly. “You’ll be sitting with all the players’ wives and families in the box at the game, and then you get to justgoand have dinner with them all after. What a dream.”

“Oh, no.” I shake my head firmly. “Dinner tonight will just be me, Jake, and his girlfriend. No one else.”

With any luck, I won't have to come across Aaron’s incessantly annoying path at all today. I’m intending to hurry Jake and Sofia along after the game ends so we can enjoy our dinner in peace.

Besides, I have no idea what Aaron does for Thanksgiving and I don’t care to know. Perhaps he doesn’t even celebrate because he has male pattern baldness and a micropenis and therefore feels he has nothing to be thankful for.

“Happy Thanksgiving, ladies,” calls Benson—one of the pilots—as he heads towards the plane’s exit. With his kind brown eyes, he reminds me somewhat of a labrador puppy.

“Same to you, Ben!” I reply, and he winks at me before stepping out, whistling as he goes.

“That guy wants you,” Jing hisses under her breath as we stack our trash bags in the galley.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“He winks at you like he wants you.”

I give her a look before retrieving our carry-ons from the staff overhead. “That’s what you said about poor old Mortimer, and it turned out he just had a lazy eye.”

“Details, details.” Jing waves a hand airily as we step off the plane and into the airbridge. “I’m right this time, though.”

“Right or wrong, it’s never gonna happen.”

Ben is really nice, don’t get me wrong. Handsome, too. But his reputation precedes him, and I have absolutely zero interest in dating players. No matter the career they have.

“Pity.” Jing’s eyes linger on Benson’s retreating backside. “I think he’d be a total animal in the sack.”

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