Page 2 of The Goalie and Santa's Little Helper

My eyes jet back to Frankie, just in time to catch her pursed lips pull in tight as a snarky little laugh puffs out her nostrils.

I stare at her back for a few seconds, cursing my shitty luck. Her wavy brown hair sways from shoulder to shoulder as she treks into the roadway, a deep red sweatshirt hiding the curves of her hips and ass in her black leggings.

“Frankie, wait!”

She spins around faster than I expected, and naturally, my words are nowhere near ready. I hold up a finger as I swing the garment bag over my right arm and squat to pick up my phone. I stammer out, “Hold on!” as I shuffle down the driveway. Frankie makes zero effort to meet me halfway.

That’s fair.

I halt two or three steps from her and quirk a brow.

“Why am I Santa?” My chest squeezes, and my inner me kicks at my ribs for being a dumbass and leading with Santa.Four months of rehearsals and that’s what I say.

Frankie pushes her tongue against the inside of her cheek, squinting the eye on the same side as she studies me for a tick.

“You need community service hours to graduate, remember?”

I swallow and croak out a soft, “Oh, yeah.”

I do not remember.

Her eyes narrow. She’s always been able to read my bullshit. It’s why I never liked playing Uno with her when we were kids. I swear, she could tell what color I had left in my hand simply by studying my expression.

“You are kidding me!” She exhales a grumble as she pops a hand on one hip and glances toward her house over her shoulder.

“I kind of remember, sure.”Again. I do not.

Her gaze snaps back to mine, and what looks like ache flashes across her eyes.

“You called my dad two weeks ago and begged him to let you wear the suit. You said your internship instructor would allow it to count for community service hours. Because of hockey. And because you’reoh-so-special.”

My mouth hangs open a hint as she makes finger quotes around a few keywords. Her words do ring a bell, and I’m pretty sure I made that call after a long afternoon drinking cold ones with the guys at Patty’s. I’d just gotten back from my quick trip home for Thanksgiving. Frankie had opted to go to a friend’s house near her school instead. Aguyfriend. Her brother was keen on emphasizing that part to me. At the time, concocting this elaborate scheme for forced proximity seemed the natural way to go. Faced with the reality of it now, though? What was I thinking?

“You know what? I’ll just find something else to do this break. I know you love working with your dad for this, so tell him thanks, but—” I start to unload the garment bag back into her arms when she holds out a stiff open palm.

“He’s in Palm Beach for ten days. Playing golf.” Her mouth is a hard, flat line.

My mouth forms an “oh” despite the word getting stuck in my throat.

“Yeah. Apparently, he’s always wanted to join his old college buddies for this trip, and he knew I would be ingood hands.”

“You keep doing that air quote thing. I’m starting to think you’re being sarcastic.” I, of course, am being sarcastic. Frankie? She’s just pissed.

“Like I said, Noah. You’re wearing the red suit. Don’t fuck it up.” Her eyes glaze over, an almost emotionless expression drawing her mouth down as she turns her back to me again and finishes her trip back to her house.

I get about five seconds alone to scold myself before her brother steps out their front door and jogs over to my side of the street. He points a thumb over his shoulder.

“What’s this I hear about you playing Santa?” He eyes me skeptically. I’ve never known for certain whether he saw me kiss his sister that night. But the conversation we had the morning after when he told me Frankie was thinking about dropping her scholarship to Harbor to follow us to Tiff, sure felt oddly timed. It was the way he added that little bit, asking if I had any idea why she would suddenly be considering that. The squint in his eyes was much like it is now.

Accusatory.

Pointed.

Threatening.

“Shit, man. I mentioned to your dad that I needed community service hours for graduation, and I guess he came up with this.” I glance around, doing my best to look put off by the entire thing.

“Oh, wow. That sucks, dude. And my dad’s out of town, so you getallthe shifts. Ha! I guess I could split it with you. How many hours do you need?”

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