Wrapped Up In You (A Chicago Rebels Holiday Novella)

by Kate Meader

  “In a few minutes, we’ll be making vows before our family and friends,” Dante said. “But I’m glad I have a minute alone with you first.”

  He took a deep breath, his eyes aflame with all the love he had for Cade. “I know I’m not as direct as you or as good at expressing my feelings. I have a pretty impressive vocabulary but I never know how to use it for saying the most important things. You always say it like it is. You’ve always loved me as I am. Every day with you, I learn more about what it means to be in a true partnership. I’m so grateful to have you in my bed, my life, and my heart.”

  Cade closed his eyes and absorbed the words into his soul. When he opened them again, Dante was still here. Not a dream, then.

  “You’re the guy I love, the person I want to wake up with, the boss I want to fuck, the man I can’t get enough of. You’re going to be my husband and one day, the father of our children. Every day with you makes me a better player, partner, and person. I’m not sure what I did in a previous life to get so lucky but I’m going to ride this wave of good fortune and pray it never ends. I love you, Dante.”

  His borchia—Italian for boss and stud—kissed him, joining their mouths together in a preview of the official union to come. Never just a kiss, this sealed their vows like nothing else could.

  “Ready, polpetto?”

  Cade nodded. “Always.”

  The wedding went off without a hitch—unless you counted Giselle, one of Harper’s three-year-old twins shrieking during the vows because Bren’s big old mutt, Gretzky, had nuzzled her hand with his wet nose. Never a dull moment with the Rebels.

  Dante had worried about inviting his dad, not because of how he would react to his son’s marriage to another man, but because of his health. Thankfully, he’d been cleared to travel and had even enjoyed watching a Rebels game in the owner’s box two nights ago. Dante’s mom was a little put out that the marriage ceremony wasn’t happening in New York—she claimed her tears were all joy—but Chicago was where he’d fallen in love with Cade and he couldn’t think of a better wedding party than the team that had brought him so much happiness.

  Afterward, Violet approached them, checking over her shoulder with a shifty backward glance. “I need to talk to you both. Come with me.”

  Dante shared a curious look with his husband—God, he loved being able to say that—and with Cade, followed Violet to the kitchen.

  She picked up a wrapped gift from the granite countertop. “For you guys.”

  “Vi!” Cade said. “We said no presents.”

  “Oh, just open it, dummy.”

  Dante had his suspicions as Cade ripped open the paper to reveal a long, lidded box like a pencil case. With shaking hands, because he must have had suspicions of his own, he handed it to Dante. “You do it.”

  Like he would be any less nervous. If this was what he thought it was … Dante pulled the box apart.

  There it is.

  “Well, look at that,” Dante said.

  Violet pointed at the read-out. “I wrapped it in plastic because, you know, pee. But you can see it, right? The plus sign?”

  Cade put his arm around Violet and hugged her close. “I can’t believe it. It’s only been three weeks.”

  Twenty-two days ago, Cade and Dante delivered a Tex-Italian mix of baby batter to Violet for insemination. As soon as they’d decided to start a family, Cade had broached the subject with Violet, who was all over it. This will make Harper think twice about trading you! Of course, the giddy potential for emotional blackmail was not the reason they wanted Violet to be involved. Dante and Cade couldn’t think of a better person to share the DNA of their child.

  “Violet!” A panicked voice called out. Sounded like Franky, Bren’s daughter. “I can’t find Sheldon Two!”

  “Oh, God, Harper’s going to freak if she comes across a slug in her martini. I’d better sort that out.” She beamed. “Congratulations, you’re having a baby, guys. You’ll be amazing at it.”

  Dante cradled her cheek and kissed her softly on the forehead. “Grazie, Violetta. You don’t know what this means to us.”

  “Merry Christmas, boys.” Eyes shining with love and holiday merriment, she headed out, leaving them alone with the proof of her amazing friendship.

  They both gazed at the pregnancy test. Married and expecting, all on the same day. What were the odds? Just went to show that it was never wise to bet against the Rebels.

  “It’s happening so quickly,” Cade murmured.

  “Too quickly?”

  “No. It’s just right. I can’t wait to have this baby with you, but this takes some of the decisions out of our hands. How do you feel about that?”

  Dante tried to wrangle his feelings on the subject. They hadn’t expected Violet to conceive so quickly but the gods clearly had a plan for them. Renewed contract or not, this might be his last season as general manager of the Rebels. “It’s what we agreed. We can’t both travel the way we do and raise a child. I think we’ll still be in Chicago for a while, but for whatever comes next, we’ll be together. The three of us.”

  Cade interlocked his fingers with Dante’s, and whispered, “Per sempre.”

  Forever. “You’re speaking Italian, now?”

  “I’ve picked up a few tricks from my hot husband.”

  Cade leaned in and with that gorgeous mouth Dante could never get enough of, kissed him from the depths of his soul—the one that belonged to Dante.

  Per sempre.

  Epilogue

  For immediate release—Chicago Rebels Press Office, September 1

  The Chicago Rebels organization is thrilled to have another baby on the team’s roster. Defenseman Cade Burnett and General Manager Dante Moretti welcomed their daughter, Rosie Violet, into the world on August 30, one week before her due date. Rosie was born at Riverbrook Medical Center in Riverbrook, IL, weighing 7 pounds, 3 ounces, and measuring 22 inches in length. Rosie is the first grandchild for Tucker Burnett of San Antonio, TX, and the seventh for Giulia and Lorenzo Moretti of Brooklyn, NY. Birth mom, Violet Vasquez-St. James is doing well and looking forward to a nice glass of wine—or two!

  Welcome to the Rebels, Rosie!

  Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this holiday check-in with two of my favorite Chicago Rebels. If you did, please leave a review on your favorite book platform! I would so appreciate it.

  Have you started my Chicago Rebels spin-off series, the Rookie Rebels? The first book in the series, GOOD GUY, is now available. Next up is Theo, aka Superglutes and Elle. Watch as their lives become unavoidably entwined in INSTACRUSH, available for pre-order now. Turn the page for a sneak peek of the first chapter!

  Are you new to the Chicago Rebels world? Three estranged sisters inherit their late father’s failing hockey franchise and are forced to confront a man’s world, their family’s demons, and the battle-hardened ice warriors skating into their hearts. Start right now with the free prequel, In Skates Trouble. Then meet Harper and Remy in the first full-length Chicago Rebels novel. If enemies to lovers, strong women, and Cajun heartbreakers make you swoon, you won’t want to miss Irresistible You.

  Are you a fan of hot and heartfelt romance featuring found families? Check out the Hot in Chicago series about firefighting foster siblings honoring the father who saved them while they follow in his footsteps (say that ten times fast!). The Dempseys’ motto: fire is stronger than blood and defend the people you love to the last ember.

  Finally, to stay in touch about new releases, sales, and what I’m working on, sign up for my newsletter or join my reader group, Kate’s Kittens on Facebook.

  Instacrush

  CHAPTER 1

  @TheTheoKershaw Are you ready for the holidays? Check out my recs for the hockey lover in your life #TheoDoesChristmas #WrapItUp #ChicagoRebels

  Elle Butler had a morning routine. Coffee, strong, a dab of creamer, half a Splenda. A slice of cinnamon toast (no raisins because ugh). Sleeping in until 8 a.m., a luxury after her stint in the military,
but necessary given she usually closed out the Empty Net bar, her current place of employment.

  Little things, no harm to anyone, and hardly likely to throw the universe’s balance out of whack. Elle was big on balance. For four years in the army she’d added entries to the credit side of the ledger. She’d supported her team. Saved the lives of her guys in the field. Served her country with honor.

  All so she could atone for a previous lifetime of entries on the debit side.

  It was a never-ending task, though. Balance had yet to be restored and on occasion, she slipped, such as this morning.

  Fine. Most mornings.

  Anyone who spied her gazing at her phone, rapt at the sight of a certain hockey player reporting on his morning routine through the magic of Instagram Live video, would be rightly confused. Because Elle Butler was not a hockey fan. She barely knew how the game was played despite working in a sports bar within spitting distance of the Rebels Center, home of the local franchise. Even crashing at the apartment of a player for the team—Levi Hunt, army buddy, former Special Forces, and now the Chicago Rebels latest rookie—hadn’t provided any special insight other than that they ate, slept, and banged a lot. Like sharks.

  She did not like the sport and she most certainly did not like Theo Kershaw, defenseman for the Rebels. But she liked looking at him. He and his “Imma-doing-laundry-shirtless” videos were her guilty pleasure.

  And she would die before she admitted it aloud.

  This morning was no different. Coffee in hand, toast mid-chew, Elle tapped the icon for Instagram (user name: PuckLover21, the height of sneaky irony) just as Kershaw began to broadcast. He didn’t always archive the videos to his regular feed so it was best to catch him live before he headed off to practice.

  “Morning, hockey fans! It’s another fabulous day in Chicagoland!”

  Grrr. He was already irritating her. Why must everything out of his mouth be punctuated with exclamation points? The guy was so extra which was probably why people adored him. As for Elle? She was here for the pretty.

  Black, wavy hair that had clearly undergone some sort of finger-rake attack topped his ridiculously handsome head. His full, sensual lips were the perfect shape for mouthing ludicrous opinions that had invariably bypassed his brain filter. Those cheekbones must have been carved by malevolent angels determined to make every man suffer by comparison, then stumble through the rest of their miserable lives when they realized perfection was unattainable.

  But the kicker was the eyes. She’d read somewhere that less than 2% of the world’s population had green eyes. Theo’s were emerald chips raised to unstinting magnetism by flecks of gold, which was probably even more rare. (Because, Theo.)

  Barely ten seconds into the video, and Theo seemed to realize that, as awesome as his cheekbones and hair and eyes were, the effect was magnified ten-fold when he repositioned the camera to take in his broad shoulders and defined pecs. Emojis flurried like gravity-challenged snowflakes across the screen. He laughed, knowing exactly how that maneuver would be received.

  Elle wasn’t laughing. Her mouth had turned as dry as butterless toast. To think she’d met him in person, had served him drinks in her bar, was less than thirty feet away from him right now—and she didn’t mean the metaphorical distance between his on-screen presence and her hormonal one.

  Because Theo Kershaw, defenseman for the Chicago Rebels, teammate to her roommate, known as Superglutes because of his most excellent posterior, was also her neighbor. As in across-the-hall-hey-how-are-ya neighbor.

  He was over there now, making this damn video, and she was watching the show like a creeper.

  Clearly satisfied with the effect his muscles had on his fan base, he brought his camera back in close. “So, we’re two days out to Christmas, friends, and I don’t have a game until two days after which means I have time to … wrap presents!” He flipped the lens to take in his living room, cluttered with wrapping paper, scotch tape, and assorted boxes. Something twanged in Elle’s chest. There would be no presents under her tree this year. Estrangement from one’s family tended to put a damper on the gift exchanges. But she’d made her decision, choosing conscience over blood. Now wasn’t the time for regrets.

  Back facing the camera, Theo smiled. Elle swore she heard the thud of thousands of dropped phones the world over. “Anyone want to guess what I’m buying for my gran?”

  The predictions came in hard and fast, ranging from a cashmere sweater to scented lotions to inappropriate items that no guy should be buying for an elderly female relative.

  Theo’s dark eyebrows (probably professionally shaped) lowered as he read some of the messages, then raised as he likely came across the more risqué ones.

  “Hold up there, I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with your grandmother, but we’re not that kind of family!” He chuckled, the sound deep and going straight to her core. She had to give it to him: he knew exactly how to connect with a million plus people and their genitals.

  “Well, I can’t tell you what it is because she’s probably watching right now. Hi, Aurora!” He waved. “She’s always been my biggest fan and I can’t wait to see her in a couple of days. But keep those guesses coming and I’ll pick a winner for a signed Rebels jersey. So, let me see, JennyLuvsARebel is asking …” His perfect brows knit together while he read Jenny’s question.

  “How do I get my skin to glow like this? Great question! Well, I’ve been using Neutrogena Hydro Boost to cleanse every night and morning. It’s really lightweight and creamy and doesn’t leave my skin feeling tight. And it’s incredibly affordable. Thanks for asking, Jenny. I’m going to send you a Neutrogena care package, so get ready for skin that lights up the room! Okay, I’d better get back to it as I have a few more gifts to wrap up. What’s that? I should wrap myself up?”

  He held the phone camera back to take in his entire torso.

  #StopDontStop.

  “You want me to cover this up? Maybe we should take a vote on it.”

  A cascade of comments insisting that Theo remain shirtless bombarded her screen.

  Never!

  Don’t do it, T.

  That bitch is crazeeee!

  “Didn’t think so,” Theo said with a cheeky wink, and then it was over and out, and Elle’s world was a little less bright.

  Such nonsense! How ridiculous that she would allow a himbo hunk be the highlight of her day, all the more so because she’d met him in person and knew he wasn’t worthy of this strange infatuation. He was just another brainless jock who thought he was all that.

  Two months ago, she’d shown up on Levi Hunt’s doorstep, acting like an unannounced visit to an old army unit-mate was perfectly normal. As if her request to stay in his spare room for a couple of days that had stretched to eight weeks was completely by the book. Hunt had known that she was running from something, but he hadn’t pressed. Instead he’d welcomed her with open arms, their connection strong enough for him to treat Elle’s situation as need-to-know.

  That night, she’d walked in on a Rebels bonding exercise: video games, beers, and pizza with Hunt presiding in that quiet, stoic way of his. Already flustered because she was trying so hard to act like a normal, she’d not been prepared to meet him.

  “I’m Theo, one of Levi’s teammates.”

  Those green-gold eyes had bathed her with an intensity she would later learn he usually reserved for the ice. Words refused to climb her throat. All she could do was nod in response, feeling like the biggest dummy for being tongue-tied by beauty.

  Hunt had made introductions and said something about Theo being a D-man. She didn’t know what that was, but it sounded faintly absurd and on the right side of dirty. She angled for the upper hand with a playful retort that came out much sharper than intended.

  “D-man? What the hell is that?”

  “Stands for defense,” Theo had said. “And other things.” His perfect lips stretched wide into a grin, revealing straight, white teeth and a mouthful of privileg
e.

  She’d met guys like this in her various walks through life: cocky grunts who thought the only female in the unit would automatically put out. Arrogant Wall Street types who assumed their waitress would gladly serve more than fifty-dollar prime rib to earn that 20% tip. Pro athletes were just another genus of the same species.

  D stands for defense … and other things. Sure.

  She settled on dismissal. “Way to sell it, Dick-Man.”

  He didn’t take offense, which she soon learned was his standard response when poked. It had set the tone between them.

  Ever since, she’d gone out of her way to ignore him (in person), might even have overcompensated by being rude. Self-preservation was key. Better to enjoy Theo Kershaw from afar, in the privacy of her—or Hunt’s—kitchen. He would never know that she got a kick out of the doofus’s muscles, sparkling green eyes, or knock-em-dead smile.

  He would never know what she truly thought of him at all.

  Download Theo and Elle’s rollicking romance, INSTACRUSH now.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Kim Cannon for copy editing and Michele Catalano Creative for my lovely cover. And to everyone who loves #Cadante—this one’s for you.

  About the Author

  Originally from Ireland, USA Today bestselling author Kate Meader cut her romance reader teeth on Maeve Binchy and Jilly Cooper novels, with some Harlequins thrown in for variety. Give her tales about brooding mill owners, oversexed equestrians, and men who can rock an apron, a fire hose, or a hockey stick, and she’s there. Now based in Chicago, she writes sexy contemporary romance featuring strong heroes and amazing women and men who can match their guys quip for quip.