Page 22 of Mountain Man's Naughty List
I suppose I should at least sleep on whether or not I’m going to throw my career away. Especially for a woman who couldn’t seem to get me out of there fast enough.
I leave the locker room without speaking to anyone else. Duffel slung over my shoulder, the cold night air bites my nose and cheeks. The city’s lit up like a snow globe—windows glowing, streetlights wrapped in garland, people rushing home with last-minute gifts. I should feel guilty. Instead, I feelalive.
The drive to the team’s lodging for the night takes twenty minutes. Coach had said he’d arranged a team dinner, something low-key since everyone’s families are in town. I pull into the lot expecting catered turkey and awkward small talk.
Instead, I walk into magic.
The lobby is unrecognizable. Strings of lights loop from the rafters. A massive fir tree stands in the center draped in ornaments that look handmade.
The air smells like cinnamon, honey-glazed ham, and pine. Laughter rolls through the space, the kind that hits low in the chest and stays there.
Teammates mill about with their kids, wives, and girlfriends. Someone’s playing carols on an acoustic guitar. A buffet table groans under plates of cookies and cocoa. I blink, momentarily disoriented.
“Surprise!” a familiar voice calls.
I turn—and there she is.
My heart leaps.
Liz stands beside the tree in a red sweater and boots. Her blonde waves are loose around her shoulders. Those bewitchinggreen eyes sparkle with the kind of joy that makes everything else disappear.
Behind her, Stevie and Grady grin like conspirators.
For a second, I forget how to breathe.
“What… what is this?” I manage.
She steps forward, cheeks flushed. “Your Christmas Eve.”
I laugh once, shaky. “You flew here?”
“Technicallytheyflew me,” she says, nodding toward her sister and brother-in-law. “Stevie found a last-minute seat on standby, and Grady bribed someone at the gate with homemade fudge.”
Stevie winks. “Totally worth it.”
Liz bites her lip. “We wanted to give you the Christmas you didn’t think you’d get.”
Around us, teammates cheer as the tree lights flicker on. Kids clap. Someone hands me a mug of cocoa that smells like hers. For a moment I can’t find words.
“You did all this?” I ask.
“Grady handled the logistics. Stevie handled the chaos. I handled the creative direction.” Her smile softens. “We wanted you to know that home isn’t always where you think it is.”
I thank her the only way I know how. I pull her into my arms and kiss her as if my life depends on it. In a way, I suppose it does.
The room swirls around us—music, laughter, lights—but all I can see is her.
I set the mug down so I can pull her closer. “You flew halfway across the continent for me.”
“Call it a change of heart.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in temporary insanity.”
“I still don’t,” she says. “This feels permanent.”
Something in my chest breaks open.
“Liz…” I trail off, because everything I practiced on the drive here sounds small compared to the real thing. “I love you. I didn’t plan to. Hell, we both know I’m the last person who would. But somewhere between the eggnog and the frozen lake, you stole my whole damn heart.”
