Page 74 of The Rebel (Looking to Score 1)
I silence her with another quick kiss, because it’s just really damn satisfying being her knight in shining armor right now. “Aspen is picking it up on her way over. She’ll be here any minute. And everything’s fully cooked, so we’ll just have to plate it.”
“Everything?” Her eyebrows lift again.
I shift my weight. “So, I actually got two turkeys. Three more pumpkin pies, and a side of mashed potatoes.”
Her eyes widen. “Is that all?”
I shrug, giving her a sheepish look. “And a ham, extra gravy, and two dozen garlic rolls.”
She laughs. “Oh my God, you’re insane but I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Eden looks at her kitchen island, gesturing to the food set out there. “But I baked six apple pies and two pumpkin—”
“I know, sweetheart. Again, it’s just in case. Hockey players eat like six thousand calories a day during the season.” She should know this. After all, she’s the one who once told me that factoid.
Eden rolls her eyes and crosses the kitchen to turn off the oven. I take a moment to check out her ass. It’s a wonderful sight, what can I say?
When Aspen arrives a few minutes later, I distract Eden’s mom with some riveting questions about her shih tzu’s diet—more than I ever wanted to know—while Eden and Aspen shuffle quietly into the kitchen to remove all the food from the plastic and tin containers and onto serving platters.
A few minutes later, we’re all seated at two long tables that have been set up in the living room and decorated by Eden herself.
Last week, she called me incredibly excited on her way home from a craft store, where she’d found fake pine branches, autumn leaves, miniature pumpkins, pine cones, and a whole bunch of white votive candles that she somehow turned into a professional-looking centerpiece for each table. It’s very impressive.
I’m next to Eden, and our moms are across the table from us, still chatting away. This time, the topic is the best place to get a manicure. The guys are scattered around the two tables—it’s no shocker that Alex isn’t here. We’re not on bad terms with him, but let’s just say things are still awkward.
Wild takes the seat next to Eden’s, and Les and Aspen are across from him. Saint pulls out the chair beside mine, and once everyone has found a place, Eden stands and clasps her hands in front of her.
“You guys,” she says, laughing unexpectedly. “Who knew we’d be here together?”
A few of the guys laugh.
I know she doesn’t mean here, physically, eating Thanksgiving dinner together, but here in these deep relationships, these friendships and team camaraderie that has formed so unexpectedly.
She’s right. Everyone has grown close this season, and it’s all because of her. It’s obvious the team shares a deep bond that’s allowed them to rise to the top of their division.
And as for me? Eden is my whole world, and that’s the last thing I expected when I walked in her office that day after accepting a new assignment. But let’s just say I have a lot to be thankful for this year.
“I’m truly blessed to call this team my own, and I’m thankful you all chose to be here, spending the day with me. Cheers, everyone!” Eden raises her water glass in a toast.
“Cheers!” and “Happy Thanksgiving” is echoed around the room.
And then a couple of the players stand. At first, it’s just Saint and Reeves, followed by Lucian, Miles, and Tate. And then everyone is standing, all nine of the hockey players here today. And they’re all looking at Eden.
I expected them to dig into their food the second her toast was done, but instead, everyone is unnervingly silent, and I’m not sure what’s happening.
Saint runs one hand over the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. “We, uh . . . the guys and I came up with something we wanted to say.” He nods to Reeves.
Reeves begins with a confident smile. “E is for the encouragement you’ve provided since day one.”
“D is your determination. It’s second to none,” Lucian says in a serious tone, giving Eden a meaningful look.
I find her hand under the table and squeeze it. Her eyes are wide, and there’s a slight smile on her mouth, but she also looks surprised, like this is the last thing she was expecting.
“E is for the excellence you demand in everything you do,” sings Tate.
“And N is for your no-bullshit attitude, which we appreciate too,” Miles says, getting a few laughs from around the table.
“There’s no one else we’d want at the helm, and to this I say kung-fu,” Saint finishes.
“Kung fu?” Wild asks.
“I needed something to rhyme with too,” Saint whispers, which gets a few chuckles.
“To Eden!” everyone shouts at once.
I raise my glass in a toast to her and then lean over to steal a kiss. “I think your hockey team just wrote you a poem.”
