Page 85 of Holiday Hostilities

But I’m barely noticing or appreciating any of this, becausesheis all I can look at.

Olivia’s eyes move over the entire scene, like she’s analyzing and cataloging everything she sees.

“You ready?” I ask, and she looks at me. Her eyes are shimmering hazel and gold, rivaling the glow of the lights. She nods, but right before we move to put on our skates, I drop her hand to collect my bag. “One more thing.”

From inside the bag, I produce a crumpled sweater and hold it up in front of her. It’s the most hideously awful festive-looking sweater that money could buy: a bright-green, knit number with lights wired into it and tinsel cuffs.

Oh, and an image of Santa Claus riding a T-rex on the front. No idea why.

I give her a sly look. “The rules did say ‘festive date,’ and so I am most definitely planning to wear this.”

She takes one look at the sweatshirt and bursts out laughing. “That is the ugliest ugly Christmas sweater I have ever seen in my life.”

“Mission accomplished.” I wink at her and shrug off my coat so I can pull the sweater over my head.

She just rolls her eyes. “You look ridiculous.”

“Wanna join me?” I have a spare sweater in my bag, but it might be a step too far to expect her to dress Christmassy.

She bites her lip, then shakes her head. “Thanks, but I’ll leave the poor fashion choices to you. I think that sweater slots in somewhere between your old MILF t-shirt and that terrible hairstyle you had in high school.”

This makes me laugh, even as I groan and place my head in my hands. “You remember the faux-hawk.”

She looks at me impishly. “I could never forget the faux-hawk if I tried.”

We sit on the bench beside the ice and lace up our skates. I might do this all the time—it’s my literal job—but I’m laggingbehind Olivia, too distracted catching her eye and watching her smirk at my sweater.

When we finally step out on the ice, it’s just as I hoped it would be. The atmosphere is a perfect mix of tacky, festive, and fun.

“It’s been forever since I skated,” Olivia mutters.

Almost experimentally, she does a little twirl on the toe pick of her figure skate. She used to figure skate as a kid—long before I knew her—but just like everything having to do with Olivia, my brain clearly saved that special little tidbit.

She grins as she exits the twirl, like she’s proud of herself. “Still got it.”

“Show off,” I tell her as I skate backwards in front of her. “I believe I’m meant to be giving you a lesson right now.”

“The rules said a skating lesson with Aaron Marino. Didn’t specify who was teaching who.”

I skate over so I’m standing right in front of her, so close that our chests are practically touching. “Show me what you’ve got then, Griswold.”

A slow, sexy smile creeps over her face, and suddenly, she’s skating away, fast. She stretches her arms out elegantly as she executes a little jump, twisting in the air and impressively sticking the landing—there’s just a small wobble, which she corrects swiftly as she punches a victorious fist in the air.

Her face is red from the cold, but her eyes are warm as she takes a goofy bow. Frick, she’s cute. I’m going to miss the hell out of her when she flies to Asia tomorrow.

“Haven’t done that in years.” She puts her hands on her hips. “You’re up, Marino.”

I skate fast and hard for a few strides before jumping and attempting to throw my body in a twist. The result is a bizarre kind of airborne pirouette, my arms flung wide and sloppy as I propel my weight around.

I overshoot slightly, and then flail like a madman after trying (and failing) to stick the landing in toe-pickless hockey skates. The front of my skate hits the ice first, which makes me stumble forward, hands out. But I manage to regain my balance at the last moment, still wobbling as I windmill my hands to steady myself.

“Nailed it!” I cry as I raise both arms in victory.

When I look at Liv, she’s doubled over with laughter. “That was incredible. I can’t believe you landed that in hockey skates,” she cackles, but her face freezes. “Actually, thank goodness you did. Your coach would have killed me if his captain got injured on my watch.”

I lean forward, sticking my back leg out and skating around on one foot, arms flung out dramatically like I’m a damn swan. “Not even a possibility, Griswold. I’m the best male figure skater out there.”

“You ever figure skated before?”

---