Page 75 of The Rebel (Looking to Score 1)
Tears glisten in Eden’s eyes when she gazes at me and nods. “I think so too.”
Even Eden’s mom looks stunned by their thoughtful display.
“I love you all, but you’re jerks for ruining my mascara.” Eden laughs, wiping her eyes with her cloth napkin.
The guys chuckle, some calling out, “We love you too!”
“Now, eat,” she orders them with another shaky laugh.
And they do. Everyone digs in with gusto. I can barely keep up with carving the turkeys, and the ham is gone before I can even blink. In addition to playing a rather rousing game of hockey, these guys have an impressive talent for making food disappear.
Camille and Lucian ask about a few of the dishes they’re not familiar with. The sweet potato casserole with marshmallows seems to amuse them, though Lucian dishes out a second helping for himself, grinning as he eats. “Is good.”
The pies are sliced and coffee is served, and everything is delicious. By some miracle, we have plenty of pie.
As I glance around the room—seeing Eden at the center of an animated conversation about save percentages and the western conference standings, and which is better, pumpkin or apple pie—I can’t help but smile.
I’m happy for her. She once admitted to me she didn’t have many friends, during one of those late-night, post-sex conversations—you know, the kind where you can really let your guard down? Well, she opened up. Her voice was soft, almost as though she was letting me in on a dark secret.
And maybe she was, because I was sure as hell shocked to hear she felt that way. Everyone who meets Eden loves her, and most probably think she’s out of their league. I couldn’t figure out why she’d struggle to make friends, because she’s friendly, open, bright, and articulate.
But seeing her here now, surrounded by a loud team of hockey players and her staff, it’s obvious she’s found her tribe. This crew would do just about anything for her.
Maybe she was just waiting for her people, and now she’s found them. We would be here for her through thick or thin, through exciting wins or bitter losses. We’d see her through her bullies and critics, and definitely be there to celebrate with her in the good times—like this one.
Because for as much as I complained about today, there’s a lot to be thankful for. Eden’s mother came back to the US for the holidays, which I think secretly pleased Eden. And by some miracle, my mom is actually getting along with her mom.
Eden laughs at something Saint has said, and then she looks at me, flashing me the most brilliant smile that sends a jolt straight through my chest. It’s then that I know I’m so damn lucky to be the guy by her side. It’s a place I’ll gladly stay for all of eternity, next to her, letting her take the spotlight and shine like the star she is.
Because it doesn’t get much better than this. A beautiful woman who loves me, plenty of pie, a totally burned turkey, and a bunch of rowdy hockey players reciting horrible poetry.
EPILOGUE
* * *
EDEN
The only thing better than Thanksgiving dinner is the long, turkey-induced, night’s sleep afterward.
When I blink awake in the morning, nine full hours of shut-eye later, I feel as though I’m waking up from a coma, more rested than I’ve felt since the hockey season began. I guess that’s what a full belly, a night with friends, and the perfect bedmate does for you.
When I sit up to check the time, the big burly man next to me grumbles, pulling me closer to him like I’m his favorite teddy bear.
“Morning,” I murmur, snuggling closer into Holt’s broad chest. His body is warm and solid against mine, one arm draped protectively over me.
“Mmm, nope.” His voice is hoarse with sleep, and he buries his face in my hair. “I reject that. It’s still nighttime.”
“I think the sun says otherwise.” I chuckle, allowing just enough space between us for me to roll over and face him.
The tips of our noses brush against each other, which brings a slight sleepy smile to his lips, even though his eyes remain closed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this peaceful, this content.
“Rise and shine, baby,” I say, squeezing his hip. “We need to get on the road soon.”
It’s rare that we both have a day off, so we decided to make the most of our long holiday weekend and book a getaway to the Cape. We picked out the cutest little family-owned inn for our stay, and this afternoon, I’m surprising him with a private whale-watching excursion out of Provincetown.
In just a few hours, we’ll be bundled up in the back of our own private charter boat, watching the waves through sets of binoculars. That is, so long as I can get Holt up and moving in time. Luckily, I know how to wake him up in a hurry.
