Page 103 of Behind the Net

“Yeah.” I blink at him. “Sure.”

“Great.” My dad jumps up. “I’m going to help Maureen with the chicken and then I’ll be right back. Another beer?”

Jamie nods. “Sure, thanks, Ken.”

My dad beams at him, and I know it’s because Jamie called him by his first name. I stare at Jamie in shock, but my heart is dancing around in my chest.

Who is this version of my grumpy goalie?

CHAPTER49

PIPPA

That evening,my mom pulls my dad away to give Jamie a break, and Hazel’s upstairs in her room, so it’s just Jamie and me in the living room, watchingElf. We’re drinking hot apple cider, a yearly tradition in our family, and the cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and star anise make our home smell amazing.

“Let’s make this at home,” Jamie says, and I melt.

I love the way he sayshomelike that.

I love that he flew out to Silver Falls.

I love hanging out with him, just sitting in the living room like this, even if I’m in sweatpants. He seems more content and relaxed than ever.

“Is this okay?” I ask, gesturing around us at the shabby living room. “We can go to a bar or something.”

Jamie nudges me. “This is exactly where I want to be.”

On screen, Will Ferrell jumps up and down in an elf costume, shrieking about how excited he is to meet Santa, and I laugh.

“My mom’s looking for a therapist,” Jamie says.

I light up. “She is? That’s great.”

He nods with relief. “Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck, glancing at me. “That’s because of you, you know.”

“We don’t know that.”

“It is. She told me it was because of the conversation you had.”

My throat closes up with emotion. “Really?”

He nods again, soft gaze traveling over my face. “Thank you.”

I want to climb into his lap and hug him. “I’m really glad, Jamie. Seriously.”

“Me, too.”

His hand slips around mine and he gives it a squeeze. Something sweet and sparkly dances in my stomach, and I glance at his mouth. I can practically feel his lips against mine, demanding and unrelenting. His eyes darken, and pressure and warmth thrum between my legs.

“I want to give you your Christmas present,” he says suddenly, pulling his hand away, eyes darting to mine like he’s nervous. “Is that okay?”

“Of course.” I blink. “Yours isn’t ready.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“I mean, it’s mostly ready. Ready enough to show you tonight.” I bite my lip, and nowI’mnervous.

What if he hates it? What if it’s too much? My stomach thrashes with butterflies, like they’re trying to escape.

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