Page 19 of Hat Trick Holidate

“Hey, kiddos. I’m Emmaline, and I’m going to be here with you after school. We’re going to do a relay race. After you run and weave through the cones, high five the next person in line, and then sit crisscross behind the last person on your team. Winners get whistles and get to be in charge of the next activity. Sound good?”

They yell so loud, it shakes the windows in the gym.

From the beginning, the kids show their athleticism. Their parents have money and spend it on athletics. My parents did the same thing. We want what’s best for our kids, but sometimes, we put too much pressure on them. The teams are about halfway done with the relay race, andthe yellow team is winning by a landslide. Tomorrow, I’ll move a few kids around to make it more competitive.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a gorgeous man in athletic pants—the shiny kind with stripes down the side. Not just any man, but Bryce Wynward. Sex God. Hockey God. What’s he doing here? My palms saturate with sweat, just catching a glimpse of him.

The principal is completely taken with him. She’s touching his arm lightly, and he smiles warmly as he asks questions. Annoyed that this woman is touching him, I turn my back and urge on the team of underdogs. They make a slight comeback, and I make a fuss over them. “See, kiddos, never give up. When life hands you lemons…”

“Make lemonade.” Bryce says as he walks toward me.

“Yeah, what he said.” A few of the older kids yell his name.

“That’s the center for the Georgia Jets. Wynward. Wynward,” they chant.

Mrs. Picklebaum says, “Children, quiet down. It’s time for a snack.” Then she turns to me. “I know it’s your first day, but can you answer any questions Mr. Wynward may have?”

If I can remember my name.

“Sure.”

Why are my legs sweating?

Why? Because the apex of my being reacts to this man in a way it hasn’t for anyone else.

He’s standing in front of me, and that same scent that intoxicated me years ago is begging me to move closer to him. I don’t.

“You look different with your hair down,” he says with a smile tugging at his lips.

At least he remembers me from the arena when my hair was in a ballcap.

“Are you thinking of sending Jolie here?”

“Reed Cross’ wife gave me a few schools to check out. So, are you a physical education teacher?”

“No, I’m a child counselor.”

His head bobs up and down. “Sorry, your brother mentioned it. I’m overwhelmed with the list of things I need to do today, this week, and for the rest of my life.”

And I have an overwhelming need to help him, touch him, and make him forget his worries.

seven

BRYCE

Somehow,I keep my breathing steady, even though it feels like butter churning inside me. It’s her. My pulse races like it hasn’t in close to a decade.

This time, there isn’t a hat hiding her eyes or her auburn hair. It falls over her shoulders like it did that night. It’s Rusti with the body of a woman. My teammate’s sister isthewoman from my rookie year. No wonder I felt that zing when we touched.

Breathing in her seductive scent, I’m transported back to the night we spent together. It’s sweet and spicy, like our night. The only one-night stand I’ve never been able to forget. The air is heavy as I admit to being overwhelmed by the to-do list that gets longer by the minute.

Does she remember? We were both drinking, but there has never been a night where I wanted a repeat.

Another night.

Until Rusti.

But why did she call herself Rusti?

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