Page 41 of Mr. Mistletoe
I grin. My heart is so full it might burst.
Chapter Eighteen
Clark
My phone won’t stop buzzing.
I’m in the Christmas cabin, changing into my Santa suit when Ingrid calls. My heart squeezes, and I swipe to answer with fumbling fingers.
“You okay?” I pause with one leg in the red velvet pants. “Is it time?”
“Check your messages,” she says, sounding alarmed.
I frown, dropping the pants and pulling up my messages. The screen lights up with notifications—tags, texts, and one particular image that makes my heart lurch.
Jess and I grinning beside the mascot at the Stingers game.
The caption reads:This one’s for you, Clark.
I can’t help the smile on my face. We look so cute. Like a real couple. Even though we’d only just met, the chemistry between us is undeniable.
But before I can even hit “like,” the door slams open. Mike storms in, his face the color of an overripe tomato.
“Clark. We need to talk.”
“What’s going on?”
Mike thrusts his phone toward me. “This.”
The same photo fills the screen. But beneath it are comments. And they aren’t kind.
My jaw tightens. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I told you to stay out of the spotlight,” Mike says.
“This isn’t a scandal,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “It’s a picture. Of me and someone I care about.”
Mike shakes his head. “The parents don’t see it that way. The boosters are already calling. I can’t have this kind of distraction before the tournament.”
“So what? Are you firing me?”
Mike hesitates, which is answer enough.
I exhale slowly, forcing down the anger bubbling in my chest. “You don’t even pay me.”
“I can’t have the distraction right before the Gilded Goblet.”
Anger burns hot. “The kids don’t care who I’m dating. They just want to play hockey and have a coach who believes in them.”
“Clark—”
“You’re letting gossip run this team instead of character.” I toss the Santa suit aside and yank on my jeans. “That’s on you, not me.”
Mike looks away. “I’m sorry.”
I nod once, stiffly. “Forget about it.”
“Wait…”
