Page 25 of The Goalie and Santa's Little Helper

“Again,” I say, holding his gaze and holding my breath.

And then his hips rock, and his cock flexes inside of me.

“Such a good girl. I owe you a lot of Christmas gifts.”

My eyes roll back at his dominant dirty talk. This good girl really wants to be ruined by this bad boy.

8/

noah

I can’t lookAnthony in the eyes. It’s making reading his attacks on the rink a little difficult this morning.

For lots of reasons. Mostly, it’s the fact I can still taste his sister on my lips. But there’s also that shit he said this summer.

You know my sister would do anything to be your girlfriend, right? She’s talking about dropping her Harbor State scholarship and going to Tiff. I’m not sure if it’s the fact you’ve been single all summer or what, but maybe be careful what you say to her. I don’t want her fucking up her life because of some stupid crush.

It’s thatstupid crushpart that hurt. As if her liking me is somehow ridiculous. Don’t get me wrong; I admire Anthony for protecting his sister. Sure, he and I always gave Frankie shit growing up, but that’s because she’s younger and tattled on us all the time. But both of us would have fought off a bear to keep her safe. And then she started high school, guys started paying attention, and we both got protective. Anthony because that’s what brothers do. Me, well . . . because I was a petty, jealous fuck who didn’t like the idea of her replacing me with anyone else.

Now the thought of any other man having her—touching her, kissing her, holding her damn hand—is off the table. The idea of it makes my blood boil.

But how can I keep her to myself when I don’t think I deserve her in the first place? And her brotherdefinitelydoesn’t think I do.

The puck zings by me, nailing the post and flying to the back of the net.

“Shit,” I mutter.

Anthony slides to a stop at my side, grabbing the water bottle from the top of the goal.

“What’s your deal? Your head isn’t in this. That’s an easy stop for you, usually. You block that shit with your eyes closed.” He tips his head back and squeezes water in his mouth, blinking away sweat as he stares up at the arena lights.

I pull my mask back and rest it on top of my head, taking the bottle from him when he’s done.

“I don’t know. I think I’m just tired.” I spray water in my mouth and swish it around before swallowing, careful not to let my gaze wander to the stands where Frankie has been sitting for the last hour.

She didn’t ride with me. We both decided it was better if she hitched a ride with her brother to avoid explaining why she wanted to come with me instead.

Come with me. I mean, that’s the reason. It’s also why I’m so fucking tired.

When he asked why she left her car here last night, she said Mazy picked her up to hang out. I don’t know Mazy that well, but Frankie seemed to think she’d back up her alibi if Anthony went digging. I feel like the house of cards is getting a little tall, and one more lie might send it crashing down.

Those worries seem miniscule, however, when my eyes land on her. She’s bundled in sweatpants and a fleece jacket, her hairin braids under the white knit hat with the gold fluffy ball on top. Our eyes meet whenever Anthony’s back is turned, like we’re in perfect sync. I’m not sure how she’s going to handle wearing her costume today unless she plans to keep those sweatpants on. Those tights were unsalvageable.

“Hey, my sister says some kid is coming to camp today, like for free or some shit? You know about that?” Anthony pushes off from the goal, shifting his blades as he slowly backs away, working the puck as he skates.

More cards to add to the house. Conner’s dad saw me and my helper last night. Hopefully, the details don’t come up.

“Yeah, we had a visitor yesterday. The family’s having a real hard time, and the kid eats, sleeps, and breathes hockey. He’s a small dude, so just getting to hang with the class will make him feel special.”

Anthony nods, but his gaze sticks to me for a few extra seconds, his brow drawn in like he’s picking apart my answer in his head.

“You’re really in the Christmas spirit, huh? Santa suit getting to you?” He’s teasing, but there’s something about his tone that feels as though he’s asking a whole different question.Is my sister getting to you?Maybe I’m just paranoid.

“I guess so. You know me, sucker for hockey fans.”

Anthony points at me as he huffs out a laugh, finally turning and skating away. I glance at Frankie, and our gazes connect for a beat. She’s chewing at her nails. Mentally, so am I. This is stupid. I should be able to smile at her without worrying about my best friend cutting my legs out on the ice.

For the next thirty minutes, I take shots from Anthony and one of the AHL guys who’s in town, and eventually, Frankie leaves to go set up the workshop and meet up with Norris. I skirt out of the locker room just as the first group of campers arrives at the arena. I recognize the Graham’s van in the parking,and while I don’tthinkConner would recognize me out of the Santa suit, I don’t want to take any chances. After scanning all directions, I sprint to my Bronco, then race to the other end of the parking lot, by the outdoor rink. I change inside my vehicle, and as I’m pulling the velvet pants up under the confines of the steering wheel, Frankie flattens her palms against my window, then cups her eyes to stare inside.

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