Page 44 of Offside for Christmas
She'd said that. Out loud. To Cole Hansen, the man who'd made it crystal clear from day one that he was counting down the minutes until he could leave this town.
Ellie looked at herself in the mirror—hair a mess, lips still tingling from his kiss, wearing her pyjamas, and looking exactly like someone who'd just spent the night tangled up with a man she absolutely should not be tangled up with.
"Get it together, Winters," she muttered, splashing cold water on her face.
She took her time brushing her teeth, fixing her hair, giving herself a stern internal lecture about professional boundariesand self-preservation and not falling for temporary men with blue eyes and devastating smiles.
By the time she emerged from the bathroom, wearing jeans and a team jersey she'd packed from home, she'd almost convinced herself she could handle this like an adult.
The cabin was chilly in the morning, so she grabbed the hoodie draped over the chair by the door and pulled it on absentmindedly, tugging the sleeves over her hands.
Cole was still in bed, facing the window, his breathing slow and even. Still asleep, she thought. Good. She could slip out without another conversation that would make her feelings even more complicated.
Then she followed the smell of coffee and bacon to the main room.
The team was already up, scattered around the kitchen and living area in various states of alertness. Someone had started a fire in the fireplace. Christmas music played softly from someone's phone. The cabin smelled like coffee and pine and the promise of a lazy Sunday morning.
It should have been peaceful.
Then Mac spotted her.
"Well, well, well." He turned from the stove where he was making what looked like enough scrambled eggs to feed an army, his grin worthy of the Cheshire cat. "How'd you two sleep?"
"Fine," Ellie said, heading straight for the coffee pot. "Totally fine."
You kissed Cole Hansen. Multiple times. And you fell asleep wrapped around him like a clingy octopus. This is fine. Everything is fine.
"Really?" Jamie piped up from the couch. "Because Cole's wearing the same grin he gets after scoring a hat trick. Or so I’ve been told…"
Ellie turned to see Cole emerging from the hallway, looking unfairly good in jeans and a henley, his hair still slightly messy. He did look suspiciously pleased with himself.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Cole said, but his ears were slightly red.
"Ellie's wearing his hoodie," Luke observed from where he was setting the table.
Ellie looked down at the oversized gray hoodie she'd pulled on that morning—the one that definitely wasn't hers, the one that smelled like Cole's cologne and had Hansen printed across the back in faded letters.
"This is just... I was cold..." she started weakly.
"Sure you were." Mac flipped the eggs with unnecessary flair. "Hey Cole, your lips look really chapped. Must be the dry cabin air."
Cole's hand went to his mouth self-consciously before he could stop himself. "Shut up, Mac."
Ellie felt her face heating to approximately the temperature of the sun. "I'm making coffee. Anyone want coffee? I'm making so much coffee. All the coffee."
She busied herself at the coffee maker, hyperaware of Cole moving into the kitchen behind her, of the team's poorly suppressed laughter, of the fact that apparently they were the least subtle people on the planet.
"They're never letting this go," Cole murmured as he reached past her for a mug, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him.
"Never," Ellie agreed.
"Was it worth it?"
She glanced up at him, found him looking at her with an expression that made her forget how to breathe. "Ask me again later."
His smile was private, just for her. "Deal."
From the room he could hear Mac still cheering.
