Page 4 of Puck Me for Christmas

I hastily added a frosting icicle here and there, while Sasha snapped another selfie with me looking startled in the background. Emberleigh and Dante worked quietly; their house neat but not overly fancy. Ours ended up a bit haphazard, as Sasha spent more energy filming than decorating. Pearl and Norman’s was symmetrical, aside from a gumdrop that Norman defiantly placed off-center. The newlyweds created something impressively detailed—a gingerbread chalet that looked like a mini replica of the lodge itself.

“All right,” Holly Joy sang, “everyone step back and admire these creations!”

We stood in a half-circle, examining each other’s work. Sasha tried to lean against my arm again, but I took a small step forward to examine the newlyweds’ house, murmuring something about their perfect icing lines. They beamed at the compliment.

Time to vote. We weren’t allowed to vote for our own. I appreciated Pearl and Norman’s candy symmetry, but I ended up casting my vote for the newlyweds’ house, which genuinely impressed me. The others spread their votes around, but it quickly became clear that Jenna and Tyrese were the crowd favorite. They clapped with delight when Holly Joy declared them the winners.

The rest of us offered grudging applause. Sasha pasted on a wide smile and snapped a photo of herself. Emberleigh looked relieved it was over, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. She and Dante exchanged small smiles, as if pleased they survived the ordeal.

Just then, Emberleigh caught me looking at her again and offered a tight, impersonal nod before turning on her heel. She left the dining area with Dante trailing behind, the cook adjusting his apron and looking as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

I watched her go; chest heavy. I hadn’t done anything to improve our situation. In fact, I might have made it worse. From Emberleigh’s perspective, I’d just spent the last half hour allowing Sasha to flirt shamelessly, posing for her camera, playing along with the influencer’s antics. Emberleigh had no way of knowing I felt trapped, that I kept trying to put distance between Sasha and me without causing a scene. I guess I could have been firmer, but then again, Sasha hadn’t done anything overtly wrong—she was just persistent, and annoying.

The others dispersed, but I remained at the table a moment longer, staring at the remnants of icing and broken candy. This sweet setting had done nothing to ease the bitterness between Emberleigh and me. If anything, it confirmed that I needed a real chance to talk to her, to tell her how I regretted vanishing after my injury. She deserved an explanation, and I deserved a shot at making amends.

Sasha sidled up; phone lowered for once. “That was fun,” she said, though her tone lacked enthusiasm. “Shame we didn’t win. My viewers love a winner’s angle, but maybe I can spin it into a ‘humble effort’ story.” She eyed me, then glanced at the door Emberleigh had exited. “You know, if you show a littlemore chemistry, it might boost engagement. Audiences eat that up.”

My jaw tightened. “Sasha, I told you, I’m really not interested in creating a fake storyline.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself, Logan. But if you change your mind, I can make sure you leave this chalet a social media sensation.” With a final toss of her hair, she walked away.

I exhaled, running a hand over my goatee. A social media sensation? Exactly what I didn’t need. My coaching career required respect, stability, and trust, not viral flirting with an influencer. I’d left the drama of professional play behind me. Coaching was my second chance at hockey, at contributing something meaningful to the sport I loved. The last thing I wanted was to turn into a spectacle.

The dining area felt too warm now. I grabbed my coffee mug from where I’d left it, only to find it cold and unappealing. Setting it down again, I made my way back toward the lounge. Maybe I could find a quiet corner where I could sit and think, or maybe even catch Emberleigh alone somewhere. Unlikely, since she seemed intent on avoiding me.

As I passed into the lounge, I noticed Dante hovering near the kitchen door, glancing nervously at Holly Joy, who was busy tidying up Christmas decorations. The young cook looked like he wanted to speak up but didn’t dare. He caught me looking and managed a small, awkward grin before disappearing into the kitchen. Guess everyone here had their own little dramas going on.

Outside, snow still fell, and inside, we were all prisoners of circumstance. I wondered how long we’d be stuck. The roads probably wouldn’t clear until after Christmas, which meant more forced togetherness, more competitions, more awkwardencounters. I shouldn’t have minded so much—better than being stranded alone—but the pressure of unresolved history with Emberleigh weighed on me. Every interaction, or lack thereof, felt magnified in these close quarters.

I needed a plan. Something to show Emberleigh who I really was now, to prove I wasn’t that coward who’d run away from his problems. Maybe whatever event Holly Joy had planned next would give me a chance. Or maybe I’d just have to corner her, apologize straight up, and accept whatever reaction she gave.

But that would mean she had to listen first. From the look in her eyes today, she wasn’t in a listening mood.

Sighing, I stepped near the window and watched the snow swirl. The world outside looked serene, a white blanket covering all sins. Inside, tensions simmered like a pot about to boil over. If the gingerbread house contest was just the opening act, I could only imagine what this holiday had in store for us next.

Chapter Three

Emberleigh

The moment I stepped out of the dining room, I knew I needed air—fresh, biting, snowy air. The gingerbread contest had ended, and I’d survived it, but I could still feel the lingering sting of seeing Logan and Sasha playing it up at the next table. Even if Logan hadn’t asked for Sasha’s attention, he hadn’t exactly pushed it away either. And seeing them together hurt more than I cared to admit.

Pulling on my parka, I trudged toward one of the side exits. Holly Joy had said earlier that the courtyard and surrounding grounds were accessible if we stuck to the cleared paths—though ‘cleared’ was relative in this storm. Outside, wind-driven snow pricked my cheeks as I stepped onto a small terrace. The sky was a dull gray, flakes swirling in relentless sheets. Perfect conditions for filming some atmospheric B-roll like my producer wanted. Might as well work. Work was something I could handle. Emotions, not so much.

I set my camera bag down and slid a lens out. The crisp air burned my lungs, but I welcomed it. A few feet away, evergreen branches sagged under fresh powder, and the chalet’s decorative lights glimmered faintly through the haze. Framing the shot, I adjusted my camera’s focus, trying to find beauty in this enforced stay. The muffled hush of the world outside contrasted sharply with the tense hustle and bustle within.

“Hey, Emberleigh?” a soft voice called behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder to find the cook, Dante, lingering in the doorway, shoulders hunched against the cold, his breath fogging the air. He held his apron folded over his arm, as if he’d abandoned the kitchen mid-task.

“Dante.” I smiled at the shy young man. “What brings you out here?”

He stepped forward gingerly, as if afraid to intrude. “I saw you leave. I, um, thought maybe you could use a hand.” He gestured to my camera gear. “It’s snowy, and I…I can hold the camera bag if you like.”

Surprised, I hesitated. Dante seemed genuinely kind, and I could use another set of hands. “Sure, thanks.” I passed him the bag, lighter now that I had the camera in hand. “I’m just grabbing some footage. The network might appreciate the small-town Christmas ambiance, even if I’m stuck here.”

Dante nodded, bobbing his head. “Of course. Holly Joy says we should record memories. She’s big on…um…cherishing the moment.” His voice faltered, and I caught a flush in his cheeks. At the mention of Holly Joy, he looked both enchanted and terrified.

“Dante,” I began, curious, How long have you worked here?”

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