Maybe This Christmas

by Jennifer Snow

  “Dinner’s almost ready,” Jess said, glancing through the side window near the door. “We’re just waiting for one other guest.”

  “Is Dad coming?” Emma unwrapped her pale pink cashmere scarf from around her neck, but leaving it on, letting the ends dangle.

  The way they framed the swell of her breasts, visible beneath her V-neck sweater, tempted him to reach out and grab the ends and pull her into him, but he knew they had to keep things PG around Jess.

  “Jess, are we waiting for Dad? I could have picked him up,” Emma said when Jess didn’t answer.

  Jess actually looked slightly nervous. “No, we’re not waiting for Dad.”

  “Then who else is coming?” Emma asked.

  A parade of kids interrupted the answer. “Aunt Emma!” the littlest one—whose name he could never remember—said as he ran to hug her.

  “Hey, Brayden,” she said, scooping him up.

  Right. Brayden the brat, Emma had affectionately labeled this one. The youngest of her nephews, he was the spirited troublemaker. She always had stories about him whenever they Skyped. Hearing her talk about her family and the kids left him feeling slightly homesick for his own nieces, and he usually changed the subject.

  “You three are supposed to be washing up for dinner,” Jess said, but her voice and expression actually softened at the sight of her kids.

  Okay, but even Darth Vader had a soft side for his own kid.

  “We heard Aunt Em’s car pull up…and then we saw Asher,” said the older boy…he was going to go with Baxter…no, Baxton. Damn, Jess and all her B names.

  Asher noticed he held a small hockey stick. “You want me to sign that?”

  The kid nodded eagerly.

  “Sure, man. Got a pen?” he asked, taking the stick.

  He handed him a marker. “It’s Braxton,” he said.

  So close.

  “Can you sign my puck?…I found it under the bleachers at the arena, and your brother…I mean, Coach Westmore said I could keep it,” the middle kid—Asher had no clue whatsoever what his name was—said shyly.

  “No problem,” he said, grateful there was only enough space for his spirally signature and no room to personalize.

  “Sorry, we don’t get many visits from athletic royalty around here,” Jess said with an eye roll.

  Right. Only her own sister. The way the family devalued Emma’s Olympic career drove him crazy. There was nothing like family to keep you humble. His own had never given him a big head, but the Callaways took it to a whole new level when it came to Emma. One he didn’t like. To them, it was as if her career had been a joke…or something to be ashamed of. He didn’t get it, and Em could say it didn’t bother her, but he knew her better than that.

  Though, to her credit, she refused to let any hurt or disappointment show as she continued to tickle the little boy in her arms.

  His gut twisted at the sight of her with the kid, the same way it had the other day at his sister’s house. She was wonderful with children, and she obviously adored the little rugrats…Did she want one someday?

  Tearing his eyes from her, he turned back to the boys. “Hey, next time I play in Denver, I’ll get you tickets to the game, okay?”

  Jess was shaking her head behind the kids, but he ignored it.

  “Your Aunt Emma can take you,” he said.

  “That would be so cool,” Braxton said.

  “Yeah, thanks, Ash,” the other kid said, then blushed. “Can I call you Ash?…Aunt Em does…”

  “Yes, you can call me Ash, and the tickets are my pleasure,” he said, winking at Jess over their heads. According to Emma, Jess didn’t allow the boys to play competitive sports, and the family rarely attended any sporting events. That was something else he didn’t understand. Sports taught kids so much. It was a shame the boys weren’t allowed to benefit from the camaraderie and life skills gained from the ice or on a field.

  Jess sighed. “Okay. Now go wash up, you three.”

  Going into the kitchen, they found Trey up to his elbows in buttercream. Emma’s brother-in-law was a closet pastry chef, according to Em. He hated his corporate law job and would quit to pursue his real passion—baking—but the legal career paid for the family’s lifestyle.

  Asher could never do a job he hated every day. Luckily his dream job also paid a ridiculous salary, but he knew even if he’d only made it as far as the East Coast Hockey League like Jackson had for years, he’d be happy making the five-figure salary, if it meant he got to play for a living.

  “Hey, you two,” the man greeted him, spreading the icing onto a three-layer chocolate cake.

  Asher’s stomach growled as the scents of cocoa and coffee and vanilla cream reached him. They could skip dinner and go straight to dessert. He needed to get back to his clean eating and workouts, and he would…after this cake.

  “Trey, that looks amazing,” Emma said, running her finger along the edge of the bowl to collect a generous dollop of vanilla-flavored buttercream.

  Reaching out, Asher caught her hand before she could bring it to her mouth. Redirecting the buttercream, he licked her finger clean, immediately regretting the impulse as her wide-eyed gaze fell to her finger between his lips—regretting it only because they had an audience and he couldn’t grab the bowl and frost her entire body with it to lick every inch clean.

  Her gaze flew to his, and the hint of a smile on her lips revealed she’d had a similar thought.

  “Good?”

  “Heaven,” he muttered, savoring the taste on his tongue as he released Emma’s finger, but still held her gaze.

  Trey broke the moment between them by handing Emma the spatula-like thing he was using to spread the icing. “Enjoy,” he said, before turning away to put the cake in the fridge.

  Oh, how Asher would like to.

  * * *

  There were so many other things Emma would rather be doing with Asher that evening, and the images that had just sprung to mind at the sight of him licking buttercream from her finger had leaped to top of the list.

  Maybe Trey could whip her up a batch of buttercream to go.

  Asher raised his eyebrows, and she had to resist the temptation to grab his hand and ditch out on dinner with her sister. She’d been so relieved when he’d turned down Jane’s invitation.

  She needed to talk to him. She couldn’t continue to put off telling him how she felt for fear that he didn’t feel the same. She could feel the same intensity from him, the same attraction, the mutual respect and admiration they shared through their friendship, which brought them closer on a deeper level. She couldn’t go on like this, pretending she was okay with the idea of him dating anyone else. She wanted a commitment from him.

  Hearing voices in the hallway, she turned on the stool as Jess approached the kitchen. Their mystery dinner guest had arrived.

  “Make yourself comfortable. We’ll just be a second. Can I get you a glass of wine?” Emma heard Jess say.

  “Yes, red if you have it,” a male voice answered.

  Emma’s chest tightened and she saw Asher’s expression change to a look of slight annoyance as Jess entered the kitchen.

  Emma stood and gave her sister a gentle shove back to the privacy of the hallway. “Who’s that?” she whispered.

  Jess looked squirmy.

  “Jess! Tell me you did not invite a guy here to set me up. Ash is here,” she hissed.

  “I didn’t invite Ash. You sprung him on me,” Jess said. “Anyway, it’s not a setup.”

  Emma released a breath. Thank God. Talk about awkward. “Oh, so who is it?”

  “Don’t be mad,” Jess said, holding her shoulders.

  “What did you do, Jess?” Her eyes widened and the momentary relief she’d felt dissipated.

  “It’s Sean Whitney.”

  Sean Whitney…Emma’s eyes widened. “You invited the head of the University of Florida’s physical therapy department?” Her heart raced. The man awaiting her response to his acceptance letter was in the
living room?

  “No. I invited an old friend,” Jess said calmly.

  “So this was a setup.” Just a different kind. “I haven’t responded to the offer of early enrollment yet, and I totally dodged the man’s call earlier this week,” she said, frantically pacing. Now she had to meet him in person for the first time…with Asher there? This was not the way she’d wanted to tell Ash about the program. She was going to strangle her sister.

  Jess stopped Emma’s pacing. “Look, it’s nothing. He was going to be in Denver for the holidays, so I thought it was the perfect opportunity for you two to have a face-to-face, that’s all. Relax.”

  Relax. Sure. Because her future decisions were suddenly demanding an answer. One she hadn’t fully worked out yet…in front of the man she hadn’t even told about the opportunity. Damn. She knew this anxiety was worse because she didn’t know how Asher was going to react, and while her mind told her she shouldn’t be even considering making decisions about her future based on him, her heart already was.

  Her commitment to his recovery and the fact that she’d always put him first were the reasons she’d decided not to accept the early enrollment.

  Asher and Trey came from the kitchen, and she resisted the urge to push Ash back in and give him the Cliffs Notes version of everything.

  “Here’s the wine,” Trey said, handing the glass to Jess.

  Her sister forced a smile and shot Emma a look suggesting she do the same. “Shall we?” she asked, leading the way to the living room.

  Where the youngest head of anything stood.

  Youngest and hottest.

  Emma blinked.

  Weren’t university professors old? Didn’t they wear sports jackets with patches on the elbows? Not this one. Dressed in a pair of charcoal dress pants and a red-and-black-checkered sweater over a body that made him look more like a GQ model than an educational professional, he certainly didn’t fit the stereotype. His hair was long in the front and gelled to the side, and he wore a pair of dark-rimmed glasses that made him look sexy-smart. Suddenly Emma couldn’t feel her tongue as she stared.

  “Hey, man.”

  Emma jumped. It was Asher who’d spoken behind her, extending his hand to Dr. Whitney. Not her. Nope, she just continued to stare.

  “Asher, this is an old friend of mine from college, Sean Whitney. He’s the head of the physical therapy department at the University of Florida. Sean, this is Emma’s friend.” Jess stepped forward to do the introductions. “And you know Trey,” Jess continued as the two men shook hands. “And this is my sister, Emma,” she said, shoving her not so gently forward.

  Emma swallowed hard, ignoring the questioning look on Asher’s face as she accepted Sean’s outstretched hand. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

  His hand was firm, solid, yet soft and smooth. Desk job hands. So different than Ash’s sports, calloused, rough hands…

  “I feel like I know you already,” Sean said.

  Yep, the smile was definitely straight from the pages of GQ. “Yeah…um…yeah.” What did she say to that? The comment felt far too personal, intimate almost, and awkward in the small living room, filled with too many people.

  Filled with too much Asher and his questioning looks.

  Asher cleared his throat and she realized she was still holding Sean’s hand. She pulled back quickly, but not before catching another smile from the professor.

  Shit. Where were her legs?

  “Jess didn’t mention we had a hockey superstar coming to dinner,” Sean said, addressing Asher. His words were casual, but the steely gaze he offered was not.

  Emma shifted uncomfortably as Asher nodded. “A Devils fan?” he asked.

  “No. I’m not really into sports.”

  “There must be some impressive athletes at the University of Florida, though, right?”

  “I can’t say I’ve noticed. I prefer spending time with the graduate students in my program who are attending university for the education, not as a stepping stone or back-up plan to their professional sports career,” he said.

  Again his tone was far too casual for such a debate, revealing an underlying tension.

  Emma removed her scarf from around her neck, suddenly feeling much too hot.

  Asher raised his hands. “Hey, you can’t peg me as one of those students. I skipped college hockey and went straight to the pros,” he said.

  Emma spun to look at him. Oh, come on. Where was that arrogance coming from? Manly pride? Really? She shot him a look, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was locked with Sean’s.

  “Now, you’re benched though, right? A knee injury?” Sean asked. “Can’t play forever, I guess.”

  Asher’s jaw locked and Emma’s eyes widened. Shit, this discussion had escalated quickly, and she wasn’t completely sure why. She opened her mouth, desperate to say something to cool the tension, but she had nothing.

  Trey thankfully saved her. “Dinner’s ready. Why don’t we head into the dining room?” he said, leading the way.

  Good. Eating would prevent more talking.

  She hurried after Trey, but Asher grabbed her elbow, forcing her to hang back as the group left the living room. “Head of physical therapy at the University of Florida?”

  “Yeah, an old friend of Jess’s.” She shrugged. A young, sexy old friend of Jess’s who wanted her to attend his graduate PhD program. Somehow the clarification she knew he was expecting refused to surface from her lips.

  “So his profession is a coincidence?” Then his eyes narrowed. “Or a perfect match for you?”

  Damn. “Look, I wanted to tell you, but you’ve had other things to worry about.” She paused, studying her hands. “I was accepted into their PhD program.”

  He released a slow, deep breath. “I didn’t know you’d applied.” He looked hurt, and she wished she’d told him sooner.

  “I didn’t want to tell you until I got in.” It was the truth, but it didn’t make it any better. They were best friends. They told each other everything. They got advice from each other about big decisions—and this had been big. She knew why she hadn’t asked him his opinion—he would have brought up her snowboarding career and tried once again to convince her to give it another shot before moving on with her new life path.

  “And you did.”

  He didn’t sound happy about it.

  She nodded, suddenly wishing he could at least pretend to be supportive. Yes, she should have told him, but this was the exact reason she hadn’t. She hadn’t wanted to be influenced by him, knowing that he was still hoping she’d go back to the slopes.

  “Guys. Dinner,” Jess said, the look on her face when she poked her head around the corner clearly stating Don’t embarrass me in front of guests.

  Asher sent Emma a searching look, obviously not done with the conversation.

  “We’ll talk later, okay?” she said. Now was not the time. No, the time had been months ago…or two weeks ago when she’d gotten the early acceptance letter. She couldn’t blame all of this on Jess.

  Not waiting for a response, she followed her sister into the dining room.

  * * *

  Leave it to Jess to know how to turn a bad situation worse.

  “I’m sorry, Ash, I hadn’t expected you,” she said as she pointed to where he’d be dining that evening.

  The children’s table.

  It was about two feet off of the ground, with little blue stools around it. The adults’ table had four place settings set, and conveniently enough the round table could only comfortably accommodate four. “No problem,” he said casually as the kids took their spots at the table. At least he would have more stimulating conversation than with the dull, academic sweater, and at least Jess had been kind enough to give him an Avengers-themed plate.

  “Jess, can’t we all just move a little?” Emma asked.

  “I can add the extra leaf to the table…” Trey said, earning him daggers from Jess, who obviously had zero intentions of making him feel like he was welcome t
here that evening. Her agenda was perfectly clear.

  Any other man would probably have the sense to leave, but the idea of giving Jess any sort of satisfaction was absurd. Besides, he would rather be annoyed watching the interaction between Dr. Harvard and Emma than be imagining what was happening. “It’s cool. I love the Avengers,” he said, struggling to lower himself onto the tiny stool and praying it could support his weight.

  “Ash, your leg won’t be comfortable stretched out like that. You can have my spot, I’ll sit there with the boys,” Emma said.

  He gently shoved her toward her place at the table. “I’m great. You go ahead.”

  “Jess sucks,” she muttered under her breath.

  No argument there. “I’m an uninvited guest,” he whispered, shooting her a look that said You’re not the innocent one this time. He set his crutch against the wall next to him and moved his seat until his leg was positioned as comfortably as possible.

  “This is awesome. I can’t believe Asher Westmore is sitting at my table,” Braxton said.

  That made two of them.

  “I thought Ben was your favorite player, Brax,” Jess said with a smirk as she unfolded her grown-up cloth napkin and placed it on her lap.

  “Jess!” Emma said, her cheeks reddening and her guilty look, full of sympathy, getting worse by the second.

  Asher just smiled. “Ben is everyone’s favorite. The kid knows greatness when he sees it.”

  Jess ignored him, instead uncovering the serving dishes on the table. “Help yourselves,” she told the adults.

  In the center of the kid’s table, he removed the lid on the casserole dish to reveal a veggie lasagna. Jess’s insistence that her kids share her vegetarian lifestyle was ludicrous. Kids needed meat.

  He needed meat. Which of course was on the table.

  Fantastic. He’d have to struggle to stand and reach past Dr. Genius to fill his own plate, unless he wanted to eat this gluten-free, meat-free, taste-free lasagna with the kids.

  His appetite vanished.

  “When can you play again?” Brayden asked.

  “Hopefully in two or three weeks,” he said, reaching for the orange juice on the table. “Juice, boys?”