Page 12 of Santa's Pucking Hat Trick

“We’ll use some of the shots for social media profiles on each of you too,” Rachel went on. “So I’ll be getting with you all individually in the coming days to ask some fun get-to-know-you questions. Don’t stress about it—it’s meant to be fun for our followers, but I hope it’ll be fun for you guys too.”

Yeah, fat chance of that. Not long after this news, our group broke up and practice ended for the day, which gave me an opportunity to track Rachel down one-on-one. Just to talk toher, see if I could get out of the photoshoot before I broke into hives or something. There was an element of near celebrity to being on the Santas, and that was plenty of attention for me. I had no interest in beingmorerecognizable to the public if I could help it.

I finally caught up to Rachel in the parking lot. The evening had gotten chilly, so I saw her wrap her arms around herself for warmth, since that blouse didn’t seem very warm. She was several paces ahead of me, heading toward a gorgeous old Thunderbird in a light blue color that was a less moody version of her gray-tinged eyes—a sunny day instead of a brewing storm.

I knew it was a mistake a nanosecond after I did it, but I approached her from behind, starting with my attempt at friendliness, “Beautiful car.”

Rachel about jumped out of her skin, wobbling a little on her stilettos as she whirled around to face me. Her expression went from terrified—because yeah, approaching a woman in a parking lot at night as a large, athletic man certainly appeared threatening, no matter how innocent my intentions—to pissed off. It was a fast enough switch to send me reeling.

“Why the hell would you approach me like that?” she snapped, her tone icier than the air as autumn crept slowly into full gear. “Are you obtuse?”

Obtuse?Christ, she really was the same Rachel I’d known way back when, always biting and clever, but mostly she’d aimed it at other people. Not because she had any particular fondness for me, but because I hardly even registered to her. Completely under the radar.

“Jesus, sorry,” I said back, my tone defensive and a little peeved. Residual pissed-offness from Sharon’s shenanigans, plus my nerves were all worked up at the idea of the photoshoot. “I wasn’t trying to be a dick. It was an oversight. You could stand to thaw out a little, ice princess.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed, and I knew I’d poked the bear. She stepped closer to me. And goddamn, why did the extra few inches of proximity turn me on? I could feel my dick twitch in my pants, threatening to get hard if she looked at me much longer with those hurricane irises.

“What do you want?” she asked, not taking even a second to apologize for snapping at me in the first place. I swallowed hard and told her, not mincing words.

“I just wanted to tell you I’m not doing a photoshoot.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

I’d meant to approach her a little softer with this. To ask permission to opt out. But now that we’d crossed that threshold into rudeness, I couldn’t uncross it. “You heard me. I’m not doing it.”

“You will, and you’ll smile like you like it,” she told me, her voice low and deadly, andfuck,the authority in it had my cock going half hard in my pants. I shifted on my feet, but subtly enough that she wouldn’t notice. She was too busy glaring daggers at me anyway.

Before I could come up with something else to say, Rachel’s entire demeanor changed. Like the wind went out of her sails, and her fiery rage was now just a slow-simmering disappointment. She shook her head slowly at me, not looking me in the eye anymore.

“You know, you used to be such a sweet kid,” she said, shattering any illusions I had that she didn’t remember the old me. “And sure, you’ve gotten hotter on paper, and you’re some athlete hot shot now. But you’re not nice anymore. I think I liked you better when you were a nerd.”

I was completely speechless as Rachel climbed into her sexy car and drove off, leaving me to stew in half-aroused, half-regretful confusion.

7

RACHEL

Interviews with the team were well underway, and I was surprised to find that the process didn’t suck. I had fun, almost, as I lobbed softball questions to the guys on the team who I didn’t know. I learned that a player named Young—first name Ernie, but most of them became last names to me, as that was what they were used to on the ice—had a chihuahua named after Dolly Parton. I learned somewhat against my will that Farthing was a Gemini with a secret thing for astrology, and Hogart told me he preferred crunchy peanut butter, which sparked a conversation about how that was 100 percent the correct take on the nutty snack.

I also learned that interviewing the players I didn’t already know, the ones who I hadn’t formed any kind of opinion on in my head, was the easy part. Needless to say, I was dreading getting to Sawyer, Wes, and Roman.

Luckily, as a player named Nakamura left my newly decorated office, the next person to duck his head in was none other than my brother.

“Hello, Ms. Henning,” he said with a stuffy, fake formal tone. “I’m here for my interview, please.”

I laughed as I told him, “Get in here, you dork.”

He clambered into the chair across from my new desk, leaning back into it for maximum comfiness. He let out a low whistle. “Nice digs, sis. You’re like a real businesswoman.”

“Thanks,” I chuckled. “It’s a big girl job, that’s for sure.”

“Hell yeah it is. Because my baby sister is all grown up.” He mimed wiping a tear that didn’t exist.

“You’re like two minutes older than me.”

“Still.”

As I started the interview, letting Michael ramble about his love for hockey and his preferred workout routine and his best Christmas memory from childhood, I felt a lightness I hadn’t experienced since I’d been back home. Like the puzzle pieces of Michael and me, our bond as twins, were clicking into place. He got off topic a few times, and our interview ended up being longer than I’d anticipated—I thought I knew my brother well enough to answer all the questions for him. But I was learning that he’d grown up in the years I was away too. Like when I asked him a deeper question, hoping to ask a lot of things and just pick the best answers for the social media profile I’d post, I got more than I bargained for.

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