Page 21 of Puck the Holidays

I pull out my phone and check the weather. Sure enough, we’re supposed to get another couple offeetof snow throughout the night. I’d known that it was predicted to get bad later in the week and we’re prepared, fully stocked with supplies and everything, but I didn’t think it was supposed to start tonight. I feel like such an asshole because now she's stranded.

She runs back up into the safety of the covered porch, kicking the snow off of her boots.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, surprising me a little bit. Then she turns and gives me a triumphant look and my brow furrows. “My car is currently buried in snow. December strikes again.”

“Getting snowed in with me and Ollie goes in theDecember Screwed Mecolumn? Ouch. You wound me deeply, Mac.”

Her eyes go wide. “Oh, no, that’s not—”

“I’m fucking with you,” I assure her. But then it really hits me:she’s snowed in with us. For God knows how long. The snow’s still coming and they won’t be plowing the roads anytime soon, especially not back this far into the community, so a couple of days at least. It seems to hit her at the same time.

“Uh, so, I guess I’m kind of stuck here for the foreseeable future?” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and then her hand goes to the diamond at her throat. She runs the pendant along the chain sometimes when she’s thinking…or nervous. Is she nervous now?Shouldshe be? I'd talked a big game in my head five minutes ago about not pushing boundaries and not risking things and making the right decision, but now, I don't know if can keep any of that shit in mind with her here with me in this snowed-in little bubble away from the entire world. I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen Hallmark movies and read romance novels—for some reason being snowed in together always puts the main characters in a tense, lust-fueled battle of wills until they finally crack.Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Well, we’ve got plenty of room and we’re completely stocked with supplies. We've got a generator, so we're good even if the power goes. Ollie will think it’s the best thing that’s ever happened.” We both chuckle a bit at that, and she nods, accepting the situation because, well, what else can she do?

“Slumber party it is then.”

“Ooh are you going to braid my hair and paint my nails?” I ask, waggling my fingers in the air and doing my best to fight against the tension that I can feel already building.Have I mentioned:fuck?

“I was thinking more Ouija Boards and prank calling cute boys,” she says with a grin, sauntering back into the living room.

“I do have all the team’s numbers in my phone,” I say, locking the door and following her. “Who’s your guy? Jules? Mickels? Oh, no, I know—Frenchy. Can’t deny that accent is sexy.”

She chuckles and rolls her eyes, nodding towards the couch. I pick Ollie up and carry her to bed, tucking Pickles in beside her. She wraps her arms around the dragon without waking, holding him tight to her chest. I kiss her head, turn on the night-light, and gently close the door.

“You’re a pro. Didn’t even wake her up.” Hattie says as we make our way upstairs.

“I’ve done it a time or two.” Ollie had a talent for falling asleep almost anywhere except her bed: the couch, the tent in her playroom, the back porch. I’d even found her passed out in a kitchen cupboard when she was five. I grin and show Hattie to the guest room.

“You’ve got your own bathroom through there, towels and toiletries are in the cabinet. There are some of my old t-shirts and sweatpants and stuff in that drawer that you’re welcome to sleep in." I force myself not to think about the fact that she’ll be going commando at some point during this stay while we wash her underwear. I’ve seen plenty of Hattie’s underwear strewn around her house before—her organized chaos isn’t contained only to her office—and of course it always put a flirty little image in my mind of her parading around in her boyshorts, but thinking about it now, with her here stuck in the house with me for God knows how long? Well, it’s all hitting differently.

She wanders around the room, taking in the décor with a soft smile. It’s full of all my hockey memorabilia: framed jerseys, trophies from when I was a kid, media shots and newspaper articles. Sara calls it myI Love MeRoom. I guess it is, a bit. I’m proud of everything I’ve accomplished, of how hard I’ve worked to get where I am, and I like showing it off. Hattie perches on the edge of the bed, pulling one leg up under her.

“Thanks, Shep.”

“No problem. I’m the door at the end of the hall if you need anything.” Like a midnight orgasm. No…Yes?No, damn it. I grit my teeth against my warring thoughts but give her an easy smile. “Night, Mac.”

“G’night.”

I close her door and lean my forehead against it for a second before pushing off and heading to my own room. I take a shower, my mind wandering like crazy as I step under the hot stream.

Hattie is here.

In my house.

In the next fucking room.

I lean my palms against the tile, ducking my head so the water pelts the back of my neck. I don’t try to stop the thoughts. I let them come, hoping that maybe if I give myself a few minutes to just lean into it, I’ll be able to make it through these next few days without doing something stupid.

So, I imagine leaving the shower and knocking on her door. I imagine her opening it wide, shock on her face just before I slam my lips to hers. I can almost feel her lips against mine in my mind, and I groan. My hand slips downward and I hiss in a breath through clenched teeth. I grip my cock and glide my hand up and down, slowly, letting my imagination run wild: Hattie’s tongue thrusting against mine; my tongue skating over every inch of her skin, biting, licking, sucking; sinking deep inside her, her soft pleas and gasps of pleasure as I thrust; her screams as she comes hard around my cock…

I bite my lip and let my head fall back as I stroke harder, and then I come in a rush, a guttural moan breaking free from my throat. My legs tremble from the force of it and I have to steady myself against the tiled wall for a long minute, catching my breath as the water continues to beat down against my skin.

“Fuck,”I mutter, hoping that takes care of that.

It doesn’t take care of shit. This snow storm is a special kind of torture. I can’t stop thinking about Hattie in the bed just a few yards away. Just down the hall, she’s there, alone. I want to do all manner of depraved things with her, but I also just want tobewith her. I want to fall asleep with her tucked against my chest, my arms wrapped around her.

What in the hell is wrong with me? I know the answer, but it’s a stupid, ridiculous fucking answer, so I push it away. We’re friends. That’s it. I’d told Kasey, one of the athletic trainers, that when she’d asked about the two of us the other day. I wasn’t surewhyshe was asking, exactly, but I’d assured her that Hattie and I were just friends, nothing more. Of course I’m not naïve or blind, I can see the potential there. The chemistry between us is off the charts and imagining being with her like that is as easy as breathing.

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