Slap Shot (D.C. Stars, #3)

by Chelsea Curto

“You said your favorite color was green and I—” I lift the dress at my hip, gesturing at my ensemble. “I thought it was festive.”

“When I said green, I meant that exact shade. You in that outfit, really.” His cheeks are flushed, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “No other variation is ever going to do.”

“I saw half the team eye-fucking you,” Emmy says proudly. “They were not. No one wants my mom bod.” “You’re wrong, my friend.” Piper hands me a drink and grins. “Liam had to knock Ethan on the side of the head because he wouldn’t stop gawking at you. Good thing he intervened before Hudson saw.”

“Do you want to dance?” “I’m not sure I’ve danced since homecoming my senior year of high school.” I laugh and smile up at him. “What the hell? Let’s give it a whirl.”

Speaking of holiday spirit, I thought we could pick out a Christmas tree this week. You, me, and Lucy. It’s been a few years since I put one up, and it would brighten up the condo.”

“Shouldn’t you be good at this? You leaped over someone during your game the other night, but dancing trips you up?” “Are you a hockey girl now?” Hudson asks, his voice an octave deeper than it was a minute ago. “Are you staying up and watching my games?” I am watching his games. After Lucy goes to bed, I turn the TV back on, mesmerized by how good he is at his job.

It’s stupid, really, but all of a sudden, I’m looking for any opportunity to be around him. Paying attention to the thing he loves seems like the easiest way to do that.

“I’ve watched a few of your matches, Hayes,” I say, and his smile is the brighter than all the Christmas trees in the room. He dips me, a squeal escaping from my lips when the ends of my hair graze the floor. “But don’t flatter yourself. It’s only so I can roast you on social media and call you Bombshell.” “That explains the uptick in comments using that nickname. I knew you had ulterior motives.” He sets me back on two feet. His thumb rubs along the dip in the fabric on the back of my dress, and the contact is searing.

Hudson rubs his hand up my arm. “Gosh. You really are something else, Mads. A sight for sore eyes.” Funny. Looking at him makes me think my heart needs to be jumpstarted because he’s so beautiful. “You clean up well too, BB.”

He steps closer to me. Our chests almost press together. “You’re having fun, right?” “I’m here with you.” I smile. “Of course I’m having fun. Are you?” “Yeah.” His fingers bunch my dress in their hold, and I let out at shallow breath. “This is the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time.”

My kitchen is a disaster, but it’s for a good cause. Operation Christmas Eve Cookies for Santa commenced an hour ago, and Lucy, Madeline, and I can barely get through the recipe without laughing hysterically. There are rolling pins in the sink and flour covers the floor. Ceramic mixing bowls with raw cookie dough sit on the island, and the oven is slowly preheating. ‘Jingle Bells’ blares from Madeline’s phone, and she signs the lyrics to Lucy who shimmies like she’s dancing.

“Are y’all making fun of me?” I ask. “Lucy wants you to know you have flour in your hair.” Madeline leans over the island and tugs on the strands near my ears. “She said you look like Frosty the Snowman.”

I’m not going to mention anything until Lucy asks. It’s so nice to be carefree, you know? To believe in the magic of the holidays, and I’ll bake cookies every Christmas Eve for as long as I live if it makes her smile.”

“Look at that, peanut. It’s a snowflake. Remember when we played out in the snow last week?” That was a fun morning. Lucy was off from school, and it was her first time seeing snow. We found a little hill in the park to sled down, and she and Madeline made snow angels until their teeth chattered. I helped them build a snowman, laughing when Gus and Millie barreled through the poor guy and sent his rock eyes flying.

“You do the cookies. I’ll be on clean up duty.” I grab the supplies we’re finished using and dump them in the sink. “And tell me all about the Christmas traditions you and Lucy have. I saw stockings hanging above the fireplace.” “Did you see the ones we got for you and the dogs?” she asks, and when I glance at her, she smiles. “We put them up while you were at practice this afternoon. There’s nothing in them, but it didn’t feel right to not include you.”

“And how does the Santa thing work? Do you have more gifts to wrap?” “Only a few. I’m trying to teach her that Santa doesn’t bring the big-ticket items, because it’s not fair if another kid doesn’t get something off their wishlist. I’ll finish wrapping those after this, pop them under the tree, and call it a night.”

Three a.m. on Christmas morning is when I do my best work.

Do your teammates get together for Christmas like we did on Thanksgiving? What about a Secret Santa exchange?” “We spend Christmas on our own, but if someone is alone, they’ll tag along to a family dinner. As for a Secret Santa exchange, we tried that for a few years. When Liam ended up with a pink dildo, Coach put a stop to it.” I grin. “He still doesn’t know I’m the one who gave it to him.”

“Oh, we eat some of the cookies. It’s the best part of being a parent. We’ll leave some crumbs behind on the plate and an empty glass of milk so Lucy knows Santa stopped in. I’m apologizing in advance for tomorrow, by the way. She loves Christmas. She typically crawls into bed with me around five, but by six, I can’t be held responsible for her enthusiasm.” Madeline pauses. “I hope she likes her gifts.”

“Want a taste, hockey guy?” Fuck, do I ever. “Yes.” I swallow. “Please.” She hums and brings the cookie to my mouth. I open my lips and she feeds me the bite, tossing me a full smile when I sigh. “What do you think?” I lick my lips and wrap my fingers around her wrist. Her breathing hitches when I tilt my head to the side and take the rest of the cookie in my mouth. My tongue brushes against the tip of her finger, and I swallow. I know I’m playing with fire, but for once, I don’t give a damn.

I don’t remember the last time I was this excited to be up at the crack of dawn, and I practically sprint down the hall. When I make it to the living room, Lucy is on her hands and knees in front of the tree, scouring the presents. She signs something to Madeline, then gives me a big smile and a wave.

“We’re about to start the presents,” she says, signing at the same time. I’ll never not be in awe of her ability to hold a conversation two different ways.

“You got me a present?” “Lucy did. She’s been working on it for two weeks and is so excited to give it to you. It’s nothing big, but if you could pretend it’s the coolest thing in the world, I’d be so grateful.” “I’m sure I’m going to love it,” I say, and ten feet charge toward us. Lucy jumps in my lap and hands over a large envelope. I open it, finding a dozen papers inside. “What⁠—” “They’re drawings. Of you and her and the dogs. Of you and me at the stove while she watches us make dinner. Of you playing hockey,” Madeline explains as I flip through the pages, and my chest feels impossibly tight.

Oh, my heart-

“Madeline,” I murmur. “Yeah?” she whispers. “Maybe we should kiss,” I tell her, not fully knowing what I’m saying. But those lips… and the corner of her mouth… “To see if it brings us good luck.” “You want to kiss me because you want good luck?” “Yeah. But I also want to kiss you because I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”

She’s so soft, and when she kisses the corner of my mouth, I whimper. It’s torture—hell on earth—but when she huffs out a laugh at my patheticness and kisses me fully, I’m a lost cause.