Page 10 of Snowed In With the PUCK

He laughs softly. “Whatever you say, sunshine.”

I freeze.Sunshine?We’re doing nicknames now? That can’t be good. “What did you just call me?”

Eric grins. “Sunshine. It fits, don’t you think?”

“Why? Because I’m always so chipper?” I shock myself by almost winking at him. He is rubbing off on me.

“No,” he says, his tone softening slightly. “Because you brighten things up. Even when you don’t realize it.”

I blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, I don’t know what to say. But then, I remember who I’m talking to, and I force myself to stay on task.

“Well,” I say, straightening my posture. “I’m just trying to make sure any photos with you in them from here on out don’t turn into a disaster.”

Eric watches me for a beat, then shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re not what you pretend to be, sunshine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, feeling flattered that he thinks he knows me, that he’s trying to know me.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You’ve got this whole tough, professional thing going on, but underneath it, you’re just as soft as the rest of us. In a good way.”

I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, so I settle for giving him a professional stare, the kind that silences people at work. “I wouldn’t run around putting labels on people, Eric.”

“Gator,” he says quickly. “That’s my nickname. Now we both have one.”

With that, he winks and saunters off.

I focus on the scattered napkins, not on his tight rear end as he walks off, trying to distance myself from whatever obvious attraction is happening between us. I’m not here to fall for a hockey player. I’m here to do my job and make sure Eric Warren doesn’t cause any more headaches for his team.

But I can’t stop thinking about that fiery kiss in the kitchen.

I need to get a handle on this. Fast.

Chapter five

Eric

I’ve just gotten backinto Denver after two grueling away games. Winning one and losing one—not bad, but I plan to analyze every pass I made and every shot I took so I can get better. That’s how the top athletes are. We never stop improving.

I toss my duffel bag into the entryway and shake off the cold. It’s late November, but Denver feels like it’s already in full winter mode, and the air bites at my skin. It feels good to be home. The thought shocks me. Honestly, I haven’t even started looking for a place to live. Something about living with Jessica feels comfortable, even as it is uncomfortable. Life is complicated.

As soon as I step inside, I’m hit with the warm scent of pine, cinnamon, and something sweet. It smells like… Christmas?

That’s when I notice the house. It looks like it’s in the middle of being transformed. Garlands wrap around the banister,twinkling with little white lights, and a wreath hangs on the front door. The place looks like one of those cozy holiday commercials, the kind that makes everything look way too perfect.

And then I see her. I’m so attracted to her, it’s like even looking at her gets my body responding. The way her hand felt on me the other day could have led to something hot and passionate. But she’d stopped it. I’ve never pushed a woman to do anything she doesn’t want to do. No matter how hard it is to rein in my desires.

Jessica’s standing on a step stool in the living room, hanging some kind of wreath above the fireplace. She’s in jeans and a sweater, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, completely focused on her task. There’s tinsel scattered on the floor around her, and the sight of it makes me pause. The tinsel makes my heart squeeze. It’s the kind of decoration I haven’t seen in years. Not since my grandparents passed. Most people avoid it these days because of the mess, but my grandmother never shied away from it. I feel a pang of grief flash through me.

I watch her move the wreath around, fully in her element. For a moment, it’s like I’m on the outside looking in, seeing something I’m not sure I’m ready to join in on. Christmas is hard for me. And now, it’s all around me in this house.

She glances over her shoulder. In that moment of connection, I feel my heart jump. “Oh, you’re back,” she says casually, like I’m just some roommate to her who comes and goes like it’s no big deal. Not someone she kissed a week ago.

“Yeah, just got in,” I reply. I look around us. “What’s all this?”

“Holiday decorations,” she says, turning back to the wreath. “Kathy’s idea. She wants to host the family’s annual holiday party here this year. Apparently, it’s ‘neutral ground’ between her and Bill.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Neutral ground?”

Jessica nods, adjusting the wreath. “Their post-divorce tradition. It’s easier to host it here than at one of their houses. Did I ever tell you that their daughter, Laura, is my best friend?”

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