Page 18 of Mountain Man's Naughty List
“Define happy,” I mutter, but I can’t help grinning. She smells like peppermint and mischief.
Grady shakes my hand, a knowing smirk on his face. “Heard you’ve been on your best behavior.”
Liz shoots me a look over her shoulder. “Debatable.”
Stevie sets down a tote of wrapped gifts and turns to me, eyes bright. “Have you seen the news?”
I freeze. “What news?”
Grady chuckles. “You’re trending again, man. The league’s reviewing your suspension.”
My stomach knots. “Reviewing as inlonger?”
For a beat, the question doesn’t sting the way it should. I glance at Liz, the twinkle lights reflected in her eyes, and realize I could stay here forever and not care about the league’s judgment.
But Stevie shakes her head, smile widening. “No, genius. Shorter. They’re considering lifting it. You might be cleared for the Christmas Day game.”
It takes a second for the words to land. “You’re serious?”
“Completely.” Grady claps my shoulder. “You might want to start packing. They’ll call tonight if it’s official.”
Liz goes still beside me. I can feel her watching, waiting for my reaction.
I should be over the moon. This is what I wanted—redemption, proof I’m not a total screw-up. Yet, all I can think about is the tree in the corner, the scent of cookies still lingering, the way she sang along to Bing Crosby when she thought I wasn’t listening.
“Oh,” Liz says softly. “That’s… really great news.”
“Yeah,” I manage. “Great.”
Stevie elbows me. “Don’t sound too thrilled. Most guys would be throwing confetti.”
“Yeah, well.” I clear my throat, forcing a smile that feels brittle. “Guess Santa came early.”
Liz busies herself pouring cocoa for everyone, her movements careful, practiced. The room feels warmer and colder all at once.
Grady’s still talking—something about travel arrangements, game schedules—but the words blur. All I can hear is the low hum of the fire and the realization pulsing through me: I’m leaving. Tomorrow morning.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t want to go back to the ice.
I glance at Liz again, memorizing the curve of her smile, the way the lamplight brushes her hair, and the thought that drifts through my head is as quiet as it is terrifying.
I’m in trouble.
Because this—this woman, this place, this impossible sense of peace—feels more like home than anything I’ve ever known.
EIGHT
LIZ
For an hour after Stevie and Grady’s surprise arrival, the cabin hums with laughter and holiday noise.
Stevie tells stories, Grady eats half a tray of cookies, and Thatcher keeps refilling everyone’s cocoa like a man trying not to think too hard.
But the longer I watch him, the more I feel the air shifting. He smiles at all the right moment, but his mind’s somewhere else. No doubt it’s on the ice he’s about to return to.
As it should be. He only came her to escape his infamy. Now that the league, and his team, want him back, he should be focused on the game.
So why does my heart ache thinking about that?
