Page 40 of Puck of the Irish

“Asshole,” I breathe. He smiles and winks. “What about this one?” I ask again, pointing to the beauty I found.

“You don’t think it’s a little…uh, gigantic?” He eyes the tree, pulling his gaze up, up, up to the very top. It’s admittedly pretty damn big, but he’s got the space for it now. His living room ceilings go on forever and this baby will look absolutely perfect tucked into the corner next to the fireplace.

“It’s perfect,” I say, staring at the tree in wonder. “It’s your first Christmas in your new place. It should be perfect.”

“Well how the hell can I say no to that, huh?”

“Plus, I already told Ollie we were going to get an even bigger tree than the one Shep cut down, so you kind of have to get this one.” He laughs at that, his blue eyes sparkling, and fuck if my stomach doesn’t do a stupid little flip.

“A chance to one-up Shep? Done and done!” He turns and scans the lot for an employee and catches someone’s eye. “We’ll take this one!” The kid looks to be seventeen, maybe eighteen, but exhausted and completely over working at the lot as heheads over, but once he’s closer he stutter-steps and his eyes light up.

“Oh my God, are you…you are! Holy shit, you’re Anthony Rizzo! I’m a huge fan, dude. I have your jersey at home and everything!”

“Oh thanks, man,” Rizzo says, holding out his hand to the kid. He looks like he might pass out, but reaches out to shake it. “You can call me Rizzo.”

“Holy shit. I’m Tyler.”

“Nice to meet you, Tyler.”

“Oh man, this is so cool. Would you, uh, would you mind taking a picture with me? My buddy Jake is never going to believe I actually met you—you’re pretty much his hero.”

“Psh, fuck that, give him a call right now, man,” Rizz says.

“Seriously?!” The kid looks like he just got told he had free run of Disneyworld for the day. Rizzo grins and Tyler frantically FaceTimes his friend. Rizzo throws me a wink and I smile back. He’s so good with his fans. I’ve seen him spend literal hours after games making sure every single kid who wants one gets an autograph or a picture.

Jake answers on the second ring.

“Jake! Dude, you’ll never guess who’s here right now.”

Rizzo steps into the frame and slings an arm around Tyler’s shoulder and I hear Jake sputter.

“What’s up, Jake?” Rizzo says with a winning smile. “My buddy Tyler here says you’re a Vipers fan.”

“Holy shit! Oh my God. Is this real??Oh my God!”

They chat for a few minutes about hockey and Rizzo’s personal stats and records, but Rizz is great about steering the conversation back to them too, asking them about school or their own hockey accolades. It’s completely obvious that both boys are in heaven and fuck if I don’t fall a little more in love with him as I watch. There are so many athletes out there that don’t give ashit about their fans, but Rizzo—almost all of the Vipers really—actually take the time to show them that they care. It’s amazing to see.

He meets my gaze and arches a brow in question. I nod, knowing exactly what he’s asking.

“Hey listen, my friend Nat here,” he turns the phone so that Jake can see me and I wave, and then twists it back to his own face, “can work some magic and get you guys in the locker room before the next game if you want. You can meet all the guys, get as many autographs and pictures as you want. VIP tickets. Free food. The whole shebang. What do you say? My Christmas gift to two of our best fans.”

Tyler’s eyes snap to mine over the top of the phone, mouth gaping.

“For real!?”

“Absolutely,” I assure him. “Your families too,” I add. We always keep a handful of tickets and swag set aside for stuff like this.

“Oh my God, my dad is going to lose his mind. Like, legit, I think he might cry. This is a way better Christmas gift than the socks I got him,” Jake says and I can’t help but laugh. They finally hang up, Rizz takes a few pics with Tyler, posting them to his own social media immediately and tagging Tyler, surely making the kid feel like Superman. I get his and Jake’s information to get their VIP packages set up while Rizzo works on getting the huge tree strapped to the top of his Range Rover.

We head to find ornaments and lights next and I eye him while he drives.

“That was really cool of you.”

He scoffs. “I’m always cool, Nat.”

“And so humble too,” I say with a roll of my eyes, turning up the radio.

“Do I get to open it now?” AJ asks—yeah, he’s AJ again, what can I say? He shakes the box near his ear like he can figure out what’s inside by listening to it. “Come on, I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.”

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