Page 16 of Holiday Power Play

She doesn't know that mom already had me practicing in little mites at four years old, falling on my ass over and over and over until I was too sore to sit. Or that by the time I was in middle school, I was hardly ever home. I was traveling and hoping to get scouted. My mom was the one driving me everywhere, making sure that I was always the best. That I was the one the scouts watched.

My mom was—until very recently—my agent.

And I trusted her more than anyone to help me get to the top. The only problem is that I wanted her as my mom even more.

Life in sports is tough. People are constantly criticizing you. People always have opinions. Case in point: the beautiful ice queen I'm now stuck sharing a small vehicle with.

There's a knock on the window. Mick is back.

"Sup?"I mouth to him.

"You driving?" he says, muffled by the glass between us. I nod at him, and he pumps his fist.

I expect him to occupy the seat next to me, but instead, he opens the door to the back seat and slides in. The top of his head almost hits the roof of the car.

"That's great because I need a nap."

He hands me a paper cup.

"Why do you keep buying me drinks?" I ask, eyeing it in his hand.

"It’s hot chocolate. I'm trying to set the tone."

I take it from him. "For what exactly?"

"For the rest of this trip, man. I need you and Lana to be sweet, warm, and in the Christmas spirit. Because up until now, I regret bringing either of you.

I take a sip of the proffered cup. And I can't help the way my face scrunches at the taste.

"Blech... well, you'll have to do better than gas station hot chocolate. Jeez, what's in this shit? Diesel?"

Mick laughs as he opens a bag of pretzels and pops a few into his mouth. "I knew you'd hate it."

I give him a look through the mirror, and I watch as he turns his face, and it drops. "Quick, lock the doors."

"What? Why?"

"Now!"

I do as he says, just as his sister approaches the back door and pulls on the handle. Mick shakes his head at her and points to the passenger seat. She slams a fist against his window, and he barks out a laugh again.

"For somebody that wants us to get along, you're really setting us up for success here," I deadpan.

Lana rounds the back of the car and appears at the window across from me. I kindly unlock the door, and the second she pulls it open, I blurt out, "It was your brother!"

She slides in and slams the door shut.

"I don't want to talk. I just want to get to Breckenridge and as far away from you as possible."

"Because I'm entirely irresistible, and you can't breathe around me?" I say, adding a playful smirk.

"Because if you say anything else, Sincaid. I might push you out of this moving vehicle.”

"A homicidal Christmas. That's the spirit, Lana," Mick says from the back seat.

She glowers. "I'm sure we can come up with a great Christmas album along the lines of Trevor got ran over by his teammate's sister," I sing.

Nothing. I get no smile. No acknowledgment. Yeah, this officially really sucks. I'm sitting next to what just might be the world's most beautiful woman, and I can't even formulate coherent thoughts, let alone make her just fucking smile.

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