Page 69 of Hat Trick Holidate

Just then, the little ticker at the bottom of the sports channel reads,“Bryce Wynward left on the runway. More on Sports Central.”

A wave of fear crashes in my mind, and my stomach clenches in response to the sudden pain. Could his concussion be more severe than we thought? Did our actions last night only make it worse? A lump forms in my throat, but I push it down, forcing my hand to reach out and gently cover his. The very hand that holds the ornament. My heart races as I anxiously ask, “Are you all right?”

He grumbles out a response, his tone stretched like a frayed rope. “I’m fine.” Then he pulls his hand away and sets Jolie down beside him.

Our food comes, and Bryce’s demeanor changes instantly. “Dig in.”

“There’s no way I can eat all of this.” The waffle is threeinches thick, and four extra-long chicken fingers are arranged in a teepee configuration.

Bryce cuts off a smallish piece for Jolie, dunking it in the syrup, and hands the fork to his daughter. Then he does the same for me, except he holds the fork feeding me. When I pull it off and chew, he feeds himself like inLady and the Tramp. I’m no longer hungry, but I’ll eat every bite as long as he’s looking at me.

Jolie greedily grabs one of the chicken fingers and dips it into the syrup without waiting for her dad to cut it. When he laughs, I dissolve into a pile of goo. He’s the perfect man. Perfectly scarred, just like the rest of us.

He leaves two hundred dollars on the table for a meal that cost fifty. He hugs Glenda on the way out, and she says, “See ya next month.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you only come once a month?”

“Yeah, I like to give back.”

I mumble, “Yes, you do.” I watch the sly smile slide across his face as the valet pulls up with his SUV.

When we arrive back to his place, Jolie and I make dessert while he’s in his office. She’s humming the theme to one of her favorite shows. I love seeing her come out of her shell and happy. How her mom could leave her is beyond me. She spreads the raspberry jam over the first layer, then uses her strong little fingers to turn the next mixture into a crumbly topping. I let her push the buttons on the oven and as she does, she says, “Beep, beep, beep.”

“Okay, let’s go upstairs, get your pajamas on, and brush your teeth.”

When we stop by his office, and he’s rifling through papers. He closes his laptop super quick.

“Hey, Jolie and I made raspberry oatmeal bars. Would you like one?” He looks up from his desk. “They’re delish. And what’s one more cheat?”

“Yeah, be there in a minute. My agent sent over some new sponsorship opportunities.”

I turn to walk out, and he calls my name, “Emmaline.” Words seem to get stuck in his throat and after a few seconds, he continues, “Thank you.”

I don’t know what to say, so I just nod.

When he comes into the living room, I scoot the plate of dessert in front of him as Jolie nibbles on her piece. We’re watching an Avatar, an anime cartoon where they shift water, land, and air into different objects to fight against the bad guys. Jolie straightens her back as the battle begins. She jumps off the couch, and we watch her as she karate kicks and tumbles around the floor.

“Have you been teaching my princess martial arts?”

I grin. “A girl must learn to defend herself.”

“Against?”

“Grumpy guys who want to get into her pants,” I whisper into his ear.

He grunts as his voice softly floats, “First, she’s never allowed to date… and how much time left in the movie?”

“About twenty minutes.” But only a few moments later, Jolie is fast asleep on the plush shag rug in front of the television.

I sit on the couch, pulling my knees into my chest. “I don’t want to go to the Vipers game.”

“Why? It’s a huge rivalry.”

“I… I don’t want to run into Grant. I know he represents a few players on the Vipers, and I just can’t handle it. I don’t know if I can be a lady.” I lean my chin on my knees, half-ashamed of not being able to handle seeing Grant and even Penelope.

He rubs his hand over his stubbled jaw. “If you want, you can watch the game here with Jolie. You and Jolie are my priority. If you don’t want to do something, then you’ll get no argument from me.” He stands me up, reaches for a controller, and soon slow jazz is playing in the background. “Dance with me.”

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