Page 34 of Puck of the Irish

“Eggnog – yum or yuck?” Hattie asks.

“Oh definitely yum. I could drink a gallon of the stuff—actually did once on a dare. It didnotend well, but I still love it.” He smiles when we both make disgusted faces, and gives us a little salute before heading off. We’ve made all of our questions this month holiday-centric, and they’re getting great reactionson social media. Even Miss Grinch herself, Hattie MacNamara, has seemed to be leaning into all the holiday stuff more lately. I’ll give the credit for that to Shep and all his planning to make her love Christmas after all this time of hating it. Granted, she definitely had cause—the girl has the absolute worst luck when it comes to December. She even got mugged by Santa once for fuck’s sake!—but it’s actually really sweet watching her heart grow three sizes because of Shep’s love for the holiday. And her, of course. He hasn’t actually said it yet, to my knowledge, but we all know it’s true.

“So, uh, any new developments on the Rizzo front?”

“We are back to being friends with zero benefits…but it’s not the same as before.” I sigh, hating how things ended up. I knew this was a possibility when I crossed the line…and then crossed it again…and again…but I really thought we’d be alright. And, really, if it wasjustsex, I think we would be, but there’s so much more than that between us.

“Is that what you really want?”

“I…have no idea,” I say with a groan. “Part of me wants to give it a real try, but the other part is terrified to.”

“I get that. You know how scared I was to go there with Connor, scared to lose what we had.”

“But Shep wasn’t allergic to monogamy.” She huffs out a laugh and I can’t help but join. “I just think that we’ll try to be more, I’ll fall completely in love with him, and then he’ll decide he misses getting laid by a different girl every night. Then not only does my heart get broken, but we really will ruin any shred of friendship we have left. I can’t imagine hanging out with the Sin Bin after that.”

She looks thoughtful, but before she can respond, another group of players shows up and we get some more clips to add to our Eggnog Showdown video.

I don’t want to be here, but I’d promised dad months ago I’d attend this fundraiser. It’s a giant toy drive for underprivileged kids and those living at the group home, so I can’t betoomad about being here, but I haven’t spoken to him since the Kodiaks game save that one phone call and a few texts—he’d had go to out of town so we missed our scheduled dinner the following week—and I wouldn’t put it past him to bring up the whole job thing again tonight.

“Oh, Natalie, you’re here!” Erin exclaims, hurrying over with her tablet glued to her hand and her Bluetooth in her ear like always.

I hand off my gift donation to one attendant and my coat to another, and straighten the straps of my icy blue gown while I wait for her to get closer.

“I RSVPd didn’t I?”

“Well, yes, but I thought…well, your father wasn’t sure if you were still coming or not.” She looks slightly uncomfortable and I can only imagine the irritated tirades she’s had to endure from my father since I pretty much told him to fuck off.

“Well, I’m here. Not to worry.”

“He’ll be very happy to hear it." She nods and looks down at her tablet, quickly swiping through a few screens. "You’re at table one." I raise a brow and she ducks her head. We play this little game at every single one of these things. She puts me at the main table with dad and the heads of whatever organization is benefitting from the gala, and I promptly find myself a seat elsewhere. I give her a warm smile.

"Table one. Got it." I wink and she sighs, but smiles. She thankfully has gotten used to the song and dance that is me anddad, and I think she actually sympathizes with me a bit, so she always turns a blind eye as much as possible and doesn't usually rat me out unless dad outright makes her. She likes me, but she won’t jeopardize her job and lie for me, which I respect.

I head into the massive ballroom, appreciating the gorgeous decorations. The event planning staff of the Celeste are the best in all of Seattle, bar none. The ceiling is draped elegantly in white and silver and light blue silk, twinkling lights weaving throughout the fabric to give it that magical winter wonderland feel—it’s the theme, after all. Everywhere I look are ice sculptures, crystal icicles, and diamond-studded snowflakes. There's even snow drifting gracefully from hidden blowers within the silk above, melting harmlessly just before they land on any party goers and ruin anyone's hair, of course. It's the perfect mix of whimsical and luxurious and I allow myself to smile, taking everything in. Mom would have loved this one, for sure. She loved the snow more than any other person on earth. Dad had even proposed in a glass igloo under the Northern Lights. I wonder if he’s thinking about her tonight the way I am. I wonder why they couldn’t figure out a way to work. I wonder if them not working, despite the intense love, is what has me so fucking scared of this thing with Rizzo.

Actually, scratch that. I don’t need to wonder about that last one. I know that’s at least part of the reason and I hate that I know it. I thought I’d gotten over letting their issues be my issues, but apparently not.

I see dad talking to a few people near the largest ice sculpture, and nod in greeting when he catches my eye. He raises his glass my way in response and I think that maybe he's going to let the whole job thing lie, at least for tonight. He gestures to the décor and a smile pulls up his lips, one of those rare, unguarded ones, and I know exactly what he’s saying, the exact same thing I’d just been thinking:she really would have loved this. I smileback at him and nod again, my eyes burning. He turns back to greet some new important person coming to chat with him and I continue on through the room.

I stroll right past Table One, snatching up my name card on the way, and wander to a table in the far corner instead. There's an empty spot, so I slide right in, happy that I don't even have to bother switching out place cards and all of that. A server approaches quickly with a tray of themed drinks—some kind of blue concoction with sugar crystals rimming the glass to look like ice. I take one and thank the man, and he gives me a bright smile.

"You're more than welcome, ma'am," he says, eyes lingering on mine for a moment before he walks away. He's handsome enough, that's for sure. Hell, maybe that's what I need to get AJ—Rizzo, I tell myself with gritted teeth. I down my drink, appreciating the fruity taste, and try to get my thoughts on the right track.

Maybe that's what I need to getRizzoout of my head: going home with someone else. He's on the road tonight in Denver, so lord knows he's probably got plenty of girls just waiting in the wings to jump his bones the second he walks out of the locker room. The thought makes my skin heat in irritation. I pull out my phone and decide to check the score of the game…and end up watching it live instead, apparently a glutton for punishment because I need to see him. I love watching him play. The way he moves on the ice is sexy as hell. I’m being admittedly rude and completely ignoring the other people that sit down at my table, but I don’t really care. I wince when Jules takes a brutal hit against the wall…and smile when Rizzo gets into a fight.

"Oh thank God, another sane person." I look up and find an older gentleman grinning at me, warm chocolate eyes sparkling. "I would much rather be watching my Vipers than sitting in this monkey suit." He tugs at his collar and I laugh. He quickly adds,"Not that it isn't a good cause, of course, but…all of this isn't really my idea of fun." He gestures to the room.

I smile at him. "Your wife drag you along?"

"My husband, actually. Helovesthis stuff." He grimaces and I can't help but laugh. He nods to the screen. "What's the score?"

"We're up 2-0."

"Yes!" I tilt the phone so he can see and scooch my chair a little closer to his so we can share the screen. They'll start speeches and the auction and everything after dinner, so we have a while to enjoy the game. "Man, I love watching him skate. It's like he's made of smoke sometimes, I swear." Of course he's talking about Rizzo but he's right: watching him skate is a real thing of beauty.

"Yeah, he's great." After the second period, we're up by five, and I reluctantly put my phone away when dinner is served. I actually enjoy the night with my new table buddy, Kent, and his husband, Jones, the two of them cracking the whole group up nonstop.

Thankfully, dad doesn't try to have a conversation with me…and the handsome server from before keeps catching my eye.Fuck it,I think. After the game, Rizzo will be balls deep in a puck bunny or three, so I might as well hook up with someone too, right? I stand from the table, making sure he sees me and I give a maybe not-so-subtle nod towards the door.

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