Page 13 of Mr. Mistletoe
“They’re five years old, Clark. Five.”
I chuckle. “He just wants them to be tough.”
“They’re supposed to be learning how to skate forward without face-planting.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Not perfecting hat tricks.”
She’s got me there. “At least he’s committed?”
Laura gives me a look that says she’d rather eat fruitcake than agree with me—and she hates fruitcake. “As long as he doesn’t turn my son into some cocky, obsessive athlete by the time he starts first grade, I guess it’s okay.”
I clear my throat noisily. Fame got ahold of me for a few years when I was a big deal in the league. But I’m making my way back to small town life and humility these days, one step at time.
Laura darts an apologetic gaze at me. “I didn’t mean you.”
I wave her off. “It’s all good. I know what I used to be. I’m not like that anymore.”
Her eyes gleam and her grin stretches like she’s been waiting all day for an opportunity to bring something up. “Ingrid sent me that picture.”
“What?” I take my eyes off the road and look at her. “I don’t follow.”
“Your kiss with a stranger at the game.”
My chest tightens at the very thought of Jess, who hasn’t called or texted. “Ingrid took a picture?”
“Of course she did.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “You looked pretty cozy with mystery girl.”
Cozy isn’t the word I would have chosen. Perfect is more like it. We’d been made to kiss. Her lips were soft and sweet, and now I’m thinking so hard I miss the only available parking spot near the boutique.
“Damn it,” I mutter as another car snags the only open spot. “This place is a madhouse.”
Laura gives me a knowing look. “Got a certain someone on your mind?”
My hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Her name is Jess.”
“Back to your old ways, huh? The player returns.”
My cheeks burn. “I’m not a player.”
Laura snorts and pulls up the screenshot on her phone. “Pictures don’t lie.”
I glance at the photo of me and Jess kissing, and my heart kicks. “It’s not like that.”
She lifts her brows. “What’s it like, then?”
“So what if I had a lot of consensual sex back in the day? It wasn’t my fault.”
Laura laughs so hard she snorts. “You act like you literally fell into bed with these women on accident.”
I finally find a spot to park three blocks away. “Puck bunnies threw themselves at anyone who could skate with a stick, but I got it out of my system. And since moving home? I’ve been too busy chopping down trees to even go on a date.”
“You don’t have to chop down the trees.” She points at me, like she’s caught me in some sort of scandal. “You own the place.”
I pat my belly. “Keeps me in shape. And it keeps me out of Mom’s hair.”
That earns me another snort. “What happened with you and this girl?”
“Jess,” I say. “She never called me. I gave her my number, and that was it. Two weeks later, nothing.”
“Sounds like you fell for the old, give me your number line.” Laura shakes her head sadly. “Always get the number, Clark.Alwaysget the number.”
