by Ciz, Alley
“I should be home sometime after the holidays,” Connor said.
“Not sure when we’re up. But shit can’t come soon enough,” Tyler answered.
“So…you going to tell us about your new friend?” Connor asked, clearly trying to get under Vince’s skin. Boys were definitely dumb.
“If she’s with Vince she’s gotta be a member of The Coven, right?” Dex asked in a rumbly voice.
“Yup. Holly’s revamping the bakery side of the business at EP and she is ah-may-zing,” Maddey gushed, reaching for one of the discarded cookies set off to the side and taking an exaggerated bite. “Mmm. Soooo good.”
The guys visibly drooled.
“You’re just mean, Tink.” Dex’s words came out as a pained moan.
“You used to be my favorite sister,” Tyler complained.
“I’m your only sister, you dork. So I’m pretty sure I’m safe in that department.”
Maddey settled in to talk with her guys, and Vince dropped a kiss on Holly's head before returning to The Steele Maker. She had to choke back laughter on more than one occasion while sorting out the last of the cookies. Her friend was a sassy one.
Before Maddey left, she confirmed Holly would still be joining the other Covenettes for the Blizzards game that night.
Who knew having friends could be so entertaining.
* * *
Holly had never been to a professional hockey game before. Her mother would say such a violent sport didn't befit her upbringing. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be able to witness Mother Dearest’s reaction when she found out her daughter was dating a professional fighter. Okay, not really, because that would mean she would have to see her family, but she knew it would be something like—“Oh, the horror.”
She took immense pleasure sitting in a seat next to the boards, Jake Donovan jersey on, cold beer in one hand, a hot pretzel in the other as they waited for the puck to drop.
Heaven.
She was in heaven.
After the national anthem, Jordan and Maddey, each holding a twin, stood to have the girls stand on the ledge along the outside of the boards. She watched as Jordan and her girls shared a knuckle bump through the glass with Ryan and a kiss with Jake.
She was pretty sure the arena sighed at the adorable display.
Everyone retook their seats as the players on the ice lined up, with Ryan in the center waiting to face off for the puck drop.
Since moving in with Beck and Gem, she had watched a lot of hockey on TV, but nothing could have prepared her for what it was like to experience it in person.
It was fast. She could barely keep track of the puck as it glided across the ice, losing it more times than she wanted to admit.
It was loud. The cheers of the fans and the sound of bodies hitting each other or the crack of them slamming into the plexiglass.
It was flipping exhilarating.
Jordan’s season tickets butted against the Blizzards bench, so they had a front-row seat for whenever the players jumped over the half wall of boards separating the bench from the ice.
When Ryan took a nasty hit while battling it out for the puck in the corner, Jordan, Maddey and Skye were on their feet, banging their fists against the glass. She snorted her beer through her nose at the spectacle of two girls barely over five feet totting toddlers on their hips, cursing a blue streak at the refs missing the call.
“Are you blind?”
“What the fuck was that?”
“Open your eyes, zebra.”
Play stopped after the hit without a penalty being called, and Ryan skated back to the bench, one arm wrapped around his middle.
At the next face-off, Chance Jenson dropped his gloves to fight the guy from Philly who gave the dirty hit. This time all of them were on their feet, cheering him on while he grabbed the guy by the front of his jersey, laying out a quick series of punches.
“Come on, Chance.”
“Knock his teeth out.”
“Fight, fight.”
“School his ass.”
“Lay him out.”
“Kick his ass.”
“Yeah, Jenson.”
When the referees finally broke up the fight, both players headed back to their teams' locker rooms instead of sitting in the penalty box to serve their major penalty, since there were less than five minutes left in the period.
“At least Rookie is good for something.” Gemma sat down, taking a sip of her beer.
“I take it you don’t like the guy?” Holly asked her roommate.
“Yeah, not so much.”
“I keep telling her to just do him already. A good hate-fuck will clear him out of her system,” Becky chimed in.
“Yeah…so not gonna happen.” Gemma’s tone was monotone, but there was a slight blush staining her cheeks. Interesting.
“I never understood why you guys butt heads so much. Chance is a good guy,” Jordan said.
“Yeah, he’s Canadian. It’s like written in their constitution or something that they have to be nice,” Skye added.
Gemma chose to ignore them, chugging the remainder of her beer instead.
“Who cares about Chance and Gem. They’re old news.” Rocky shifted in her seat, eyes locking onto Holly, and the glint in her eye spelled trouble. “What I really want to know is…what exactly is going on with you and my brother?”
She knew the question was coming. If she were honest, she was mildly impressed by their restraint. She'd half expected them to be waiting for her in the kitchen the morning after the first official date.
“We’re dating?” She should maybe be more confident in that statement.
“Why don’t you sound sure of the fact?”
She blew out a breath, trying to marshal her thoughts. “What I mean is…he treats me like a girlfriend and he calls me his. But…” She scowled at her beer bottle, not sure if she wanted to admit the next part or not.
“But…” Rocky prodded when she stayed silent.
“Buthewon’tsleepwithmeuntilwe’reofficial.” Her words came out in a rush of embarrassment.
Her friends collectively lost their shit. Doubling over in guffaws of laughter, wiping tears from under their eyes, both Rocky and Jordan claiming they now needed to pee. When they finally managed to compose themselves, conversation resumed.
“Oh, Vin.” Rocky shook her head. “What does that mean? Official.”
“I guess he’s waiting for me to say I’m his girlfriend.”
“Wait,” Rocky held up a hand. “I thought you said he calls you his?”
“He does.”
“Doesn’t that make you his girlfriend?”
“No,” Holly stated.
“Why not?”
“Because.” Now she was the one chugging her beer. “He hasn’t actually asked me. He’s told me I’m his girlfriend, but he hasn’t asked.”
“Oh, Vin.”
“Boys are dumb,” Becky declared.
“Amen,” Holly agreed. “Still, I’m the one who gets teased and turned on, only to be left hanging.”
“Ahh,” Rocky said knowingly. “He’s leaving you with blue clit.”
“Blue clit?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s a thing. Guys like to think they’re the only ones who can suffer from the affliction, but it’s not true. They have blue balls, we have blue clit.”
“I love it.” She nodded enthusiastically. “But, yup, blue clit is a daily occurrence for me. I’ve gotten to know the shower massager in your old shower really well,” she admitted.
“Girl, I feel you.” Maddey held out her beer to toast.
“If he’s drawn it out this long, I think he needs to ask you in a big way. Like…promposal big,” Skye said.
“Oh my god.” Rocky facepalmed. “Don’t go giving him any ideas. You know he, Jase and Tucker would take the idea and run with it. They’d end up going viral.”
“It'd be good PR,” Skye said offhandedly.
Like a can of worms being opened, the debate conti
nued with topics tumbling over each other as they changed.
Girls nights were the best.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Thanksgiving was one of Vince’s favorite holidays. It was a day dedicated to eating and watching football—what wasn't to love about that? Nothing.
But…
Since he was in the middle of the most important training camp of his career, he had to abstain from most of the goodies he usually gorged himself on if he wanted to make weight in six weeks. Yeah, first world problems, cry him a river and all that.
Aside from forgoing his favorite pies, the day at his parents was fun as always. Both Gage’s and Wyatt’s parents flew in from California to join them, and the Jameses rounded out the Steele/Reese crew perfectly. His sister really did good in her choice of life partner.
He'd debated inviting Holly to join them but ultimately didn’t. The Steele family dinner he knew was in their future would be bad enough, he didn’t need the added pressure of a holiday.
Instead he let his girl spend the day with the Samsons, settling for picking her up on the way home. And, yes, she was his girl—if only he could get her to admit it.
“You guys ready to go?” he asked Gemma and Becky. They would be riding back with him to The Hightower, while Rocky and Gage hung back to spend more time with the Jameses.
“Yup,” Gemma answered cheerily.
“Take us home, driver.” Becky placed a chauffeur hat on his head. Where the fuck did she get it? It was no surprise they called her Trouble.
It was another ten minutes before they were done saying their goodbyes and could leave, him proudly wearing his hat as the ladies sat in the backseat for the drive to the Samsons.
Holly would get a kick out of the hat, so he left it on, angling the brim to sit off-center.
Lyle’s turquoise eyes were a bit glazed when he opened the door. “Well, heellloooo there, handsome.” His words had the barest hint of a slur to them.
“Hey, Ly. Happy Thanksgiving.” They shared their standard complicated handshake as he tried to peer around Lyle’s shoulder. “My girl ready?”
“Oooooh, I love hearing you call our Sweets your girl. Give me a minute while I swoon over here.” He fanned himself with a flourish.
“Muffin!” Holly cried when she spotted him in the entryway, throwing herself at him and wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Thank god for his fast reflexes, otherwise her very nice ass would have been on the ground. “Happy Turkey Day.”
He assessed her, the whiskey hue of her eyes swirling.
“Hey, Cupcake.” His lips tipped up as he took in her 'Finish the turkey and bring on the fat man' sweater. The cartoon drawing of a turkey dinner wearing a Santa hat was so her.
“I like your hat.” She flicked the brim.
“Thanks. I wore it just for you.”
“Really? You did?”
He didn’t, but the way her eyes lit up at the thought, fuck if he wasn’t taking the credit for Becky being a smartass.
“Of course.” He looped his arms around her, keeping her close. “Anything to see my girl smile.”
She pulled back so she could look him in the eye. “Am I?”
“Are you what?” He wasn’t following her tipsy logic.
“Your girl?”
“I told you, baby. You’ve been mine since that first day at EP.”
Thinking she was too cute for school when her face scrunched in confusion, he knew he was further gone for her than even he realized.
“But…I’m not your girlfriend.”
“Of course you are. You’re the only one who refuses to use the label.”
“You never asked.” She attempted to level him with a hard stare, and the glazed look in her eyes lessened the impact of it, but not the words. Shit. Was that the issue?
“Are you telling me this last week was because of semantics?”
She stepped back, folding her arms over her chest. “It may be semantics to you, but to me it's important. I’ve spent my whole life having—and letting—people tell me what to do. I’m done with being bossed around.”
There was a dirty comment in there. Thankfully, his common sense kicked in before he made it.
“So you’re saying”—he reached out to smooth the little v that formed between her brows—“if I had said, Hey, Cupcake. Will you be my girlfriend? You would have said…”
“Yes, you big idiot.”
He cleared his throat. “Hey, Cupcake. Will you be my girlfriend?”
“See…was that really that hard?”
“I’ll show you hard.” He couldn’t resist that one. “But you didn’t answer the question.”
“Yes.” Then softer, “You big idiot,” and buried herself against his chest.
“Oh, shoot.” Lyle’s voice broke in, reminding him they had an audience. “I should have been filming that. You two are rom-com gold.”
“Ly,” Kyle admonished, coming down the hall. “Leave the kids alone.”
He accepted Holly’s wool peacoat from Kyle and helped her slip into it, tugging the lapels up to protect her neck from the cold front that had moved in. They said their goodbyes, and with his girlfriend tucked under his arm, he ushered her to the car.
Tickled by the chauffeur facade, Holly ignored the front seat and settled herself in the back to the great delight of the two delinquents he already escorted.
If the strength of his feelings wasn’t enough to tell him she was made for him, the way she clicked into The Coven like the missing puzzle piece would have sealed the deal.
The girls sang along with the Christmas music playing on the radio, even carrying on the last lines of “Jingle Bells” when the Glee cast was silenced as he turned the car off.
“Come on, ladies.” He chuckled as he herded his tipsy charges to the elevator, content to listen to them babble while holding his girl.
The elevator took them to the twelfth floor without making any stops, and he was back to prodding the chattering females along.
The boisterous laughter cut off when they noticed the door to 12A was cracked open. Though they tended to have an open-door policy when they were all home, they locked up when not.
“Stay here.” His voice brooked no room for argument as he went to the door to his own apartment, hoping Deck was home and that was the reason their door was open.
He tried the handle—locked. Keys in hand, he unlocked the door, calling out for Deck, only to be met with silence.
“Get in here and wait for me to check out your place.” He was quick to shut down any argument, the subject not up for debate. The hell he would allow them into the apartment until he knew it was free of intruders, and there was also no way he was leaving them out in the hall where they would be vulnerable.
Once he had the girls safely tucked into his apartment—behind a locked door—he slowly eased open 12A, every defensive instinct on alert.
Nothing seemed out of place, the open concept layout allowing him to see the kitchen, dining room and living room in one sweep.
Stepping inside, he started with the closets closest to the door. He might be paranoid, but the apartment was home to some of the most important women in his life. There was a better chance of Gemma letting him eat an entire pumpkin pie than there was of him allowing them to step one toe inside without him checking every nook and cranny.
He checked Gem and Beck’s rooms before moving toward Holly’s down the opposite hall. Nothing odd stood out.
When he stepped out of her ensuite, he noticed the bushel of holly in the middle of the bed.
She gave a whole new meaning to the Christmas spirit.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
There was a pit the size of Connecticut in Holly’s stomach as they waited for Vince to get back from checking out 12A. She wanted to believe—like Tinkerbell needed viewers to believe to live—that one of them just didn’t shut the door all the way when they left that morning, but she knew for a fact they had not only shut it, but locked it.
What felt like hours but was probably only minutes later, the door opened, and Vince stepped inside.
“Vin? Everything check out okay?” Gemma asked.
Without a word, he stalked across the hardwood, squeezing the breath from her lungs as he lifted her from her seat and pressed her tightly to his body. His warm, hard, shaking with lingering tension body.
“Buffen.” His nickname came out all garbled with her face buried between his pecs.
She didn’t feel him relax until he buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled a deep lungful of her scent.
“Is everything okay?” she asked when he let go.
“It is. I just need a minute after…” His words trailed off as they let the heavy go.
“Okay then.” Becky clapped her hands and jumped from her stool. “More wine.”
“Because you didn’t have enough earlier?” Vince finally grinned.
“Never!” All three girls echoed together.
“You know.” He shifted them back to the island but kept an arm around her waist. “You really do take your Christmas cheer to levels even I didn’t realize.”
“What do you mean?” Holly asked.
“You keep your namesake in your room.”
“My namesake?”
Maybe she shouldn’t have any more wine because he wasn’t making any sense.
“The bushel of holly on your bed, and Christmas season doesn’t even officially start until tomorrow.”
Everything inside her froze at the words.
They found her.
It was a warning.
Without a doubt, Vince was going to have questions. Questions she didn’t want to answer.
“What did you say?” Her voice went as cold as the ice flooding her veins.
“No offense, babe. I just think it’s funny, it’s a little hotelish—you know, flowers on the bed and stuff.”
“Holly?”
“Yeah. That was a cute touch. Though I thought the berries were red? I’ve never seen it with the white ones before.”
