Page 44 of Pucking my Enemy Boss

Heat rises to my cheeks.He’s never going to trust me enough to let me in, is he?I feel like a steel wall is slapped right betweenus. “Not about me? Ethan, you’re making it sound like I’m making your life harder by asking.”

He sighs, eyes shifting to the floor. “Look, I’ll deal with my stuff. You don’t have to fix it.”

Oh, of course. It’s my bad for being the nagging event planner who’s trying to fix a man who doesn’t even want anyone close.

“Okay. Fine. I’d appreciate you not showing up at the Charity Decorate-a-Tree Contest today if you’re going to be this moody and not give it your best.”

Ethan grabs his keys, his movements stiff. “You’re talking about the tree decorating thing for the fans? You know I’ve got no choice.”

Oh, the tree decorating thing. Hearing that tone about something I spent hours organizing feels like a slap in the face.

“Yeah, thetree thingI’ve been working my ass off to put on. Glad to see you’re so excited.”

He winces slightly, but doesn’t back down. “You know it’s not my thing.”

The patience that’s been hanging by a thread snaps. “Then maybe don’t bother showing up, like I said, if you’re just going to half-ass it,” I snap, the words out before they can be reined in.

That gets his attention. Ethan turns, finally, his icy blue eyes locking onto mine. “Don’t push, Holly. This whole thing is complicated enough without mixing personal and professional.”

“Oh, right.” A dry bitter laugh escapes my throat. “You don’t need to bother. ‘Cause there’s nothing personal going on here.” I wave my hand between us.

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken words, until I’ve had enough. “Don’t bother showing up if you’re going to bring your emotional baggage with you. The fans don’t need it.”

Grabbing the coat off the back of the chair, I storm out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the walls and windows. Good. Maybe it’ll shake him out of whatever emotional coma he’s in.

The areaaround the stadium is a Christmas explosion. Trees line the hallways, decked in twinkling lights, miniature Blizzards jerseys, and hockey pucks hanging like ornaments. Kids from local schools and non-profits mill around, wide-eyed, dragging their parents and teachers from one festively adorned tree to the next.

I’m standing near the main entrance, clutching my clipboard tighter than necessary because it’s the only thing keeping my nerves in check. The whole event is a mix of chaos and cheer, and somehow, it’s all on my shoulders to not let the Christmas pucks fall–as Reid put it.

Lauren appears at my side, handing me the coffee in hand, her usual calm therapist face on. “Everything okay? You look like you’re about to throw up.”

I sputter a forced laugh. “That obvious, huh?” The clipboard gets another grip adjustment. “Just, you know, trying to make sure the tree contest doesn’t turn into a disaster.”

“Disaster? This?” Lauren gestures around at the glittering trees and the excited kids. “It’s a hit. Everyone’s loving it. You need to relax.”

Relaxing isn’t an option. I missed out on my calming yoga session because of a certain annoying distancer I live with. He’s set on the bad vibes and now my worries are out here brooding like a dark cloud threatening to rain all over this carefully planned Christmas parade.

“You’re doing great, by the way,” she insists, sliding a grin my way.

“Am I, though?” The words come out shaky, as I glance around the arena again, watching the controlled chaos unfold. “I feel like I’m one hot glue gun mishap away from a nervous breakdown.”

Lauren snickers, scribbling something on her clipboard. “Relax. You’ve got this. All the trees are still standing, so that’s a win.”

“Small victories,” I mutter, eyes darting around the rink. It’s going well, sure, but there’s always that nagging voice in the back of my head saying something’s about to go wrong.

Before Lauren can ask more questions, the event kicks off, the emcee’s voice raging over the speakers. Families and small business owners rush to their assigned players, chatting excitedly as the decorating begins. The joy is infectious, and for a moment, the tension slips away, replaced by the simple joy of watching kids laugh and players get tangled in garlands.

“Gotta go find my tree and partner.”

I nod. “Me too.”

Out of the corner of my eye, Liam Callahan jogs over, wearing a Santa hat that’s just a little too big for his head and shows me a name card. “Think I’m your partner. Ready to decorate?” His grin’s wide, and there’s a bounce in his step that says he’s way too excited for this.

“Let’s do it,” I say, forcing a smile, because Liam’s actually trying to make this fun. We head over to our tree—second from the left, next to a group of kids who are practically drowning in tinsel.

“So, what’s the plan?” Liam asks, pulling out a box of ornaments that look like mini hockey pucks.

“Let’s keep it simple,” I nod toward the box. “I’m thinking a classic ‘less is more’ vibe, with a little hockey flair.”

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