Going for the Goal

by Sara Rider

  Interesting. He’d assumed the electricity that always sparked between them was fueled by their clashing personalities, not physical attraction. Maybe the honest agent wasn’t as forthright as she claimed to be after all.

  The question was, how did he feel about that? He wasn’t sure, but he did know he liked the way the freckles on her shoulders peeked out from beneath the scooping neckline.

  “As long as it doesn’t affect your ability to play, I don’t care what your body looks like.”

  “Today’s not about hockey. It’s about finding Christmas spirit. Santa, reindeer, presents. Joy to the world and all that stuff. You’re missing all the fun.”

  “I’m pretty sure you guys have it covered without me,” she said a moment before Luke came barreling down the hallway piggybacking a laughing kid. “Who knew a grown man could look so good wearing antlers and a Rudolph nose?”

  Jealousy smacked him right across the face. Maybe he didn’t know how he felt about Jillian, but he sure as hell knew how he felt about her with another guy. He bent down and rifled through the box of gear at her feet, pulling out a green elf hat. “That reminds me of something.”

  Her eyes widened with protest as he set the hat on her head.

  “There. Now you have some Christmas spirit.” The green felt hung loosely on top of her golden-blond hair, at least a couple of sizes too big.

  “There’s something wrong with this scenario,” she said drily.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  She crossed her arms and jutted her chin. “I’m not an elf. I’m the boss. I should be Santa.”

  “Nah, elves are the ones who make the magic happen. Santa’s just the one who gets all the glory. Besides, you’d drown in this suit.”

  Her smile returned, genuine and unrestrained, lighting up her hazel eyes and putting her cheekbones on display like a work of art. She cleared her throat, making him realize he’d gotten lost in her smile, unaware of how many seconds had passed.

  “Anyway,” he said with an awkwardness he didn’t recognize, “I should get back to the kids.”

  “Nick.” She caught his hand as he turned to go. “You’re doing a good job today.”

  “Thanks.” The compliment caught him off guard, but it was the way her hand lingered on his that made his throat feel strangely rough and tight.

  “I know you bought a lot of extra gifts and stuff. I could’ve gotten the Vipers PR team to do that for you, too.”

  “I know, but that’s not what this is about.”

  “So you’re a good guy after all, Saint Nick?”

  He leaned toward her, softly inhaling the sweet floral scent of her perfume. “I have my moments, but deep down I’m as wicked as it gets.”

  Her sharp intake of breath was unmistakable. She dropped his hand like it was scalding hot. Her uncharacteristically demure reaction made him swell with masculine pride, but he needed to stop teasing her, at least until he understood why he was so compelled to do it in the first place.

  “But if you really want to help, there’s a girl in room seven who is completely unimpressed by all things hockey.”

  She raised her phone and started typing. “You want me to buy her a special gift?”

  He lowered her wrist and shook his head. “Her family spent the morning with her but left for a bit to give her siblings a few hours of Christmas at home. She’s lonely and could use someone to talk to. Her only interests are clothes and Justin Bieber. I’m completely out of my depth.”

  “Sure. Yeah. I’ll try,” she said, sounding less than convinced.

  “Great.” He returned to the kids for the rest of the afternoon, making sure to give each one a toy and some Vipers gear. Luckily, there was more than enough for everyone and their families, which meant they could distribute some stuff to the hardworking staff, too.

  He knew presents weren’t the most important thing in life, but it made him feel good to hand them out. He remembered too vividly what it was like to wake up on Christmas morning without any shiny wrapped boxes under the tree. After their mom died, when he was seven and Ben was four, they stopped having trees altogether. Their dad turned into a typical hard-ass hockey parent after that, pouring every last dime they had into new hockey gear for Nick whenever he grew an inch. Whatever money remained fueled his dad’s spiraling booze addiction. There was nothing left over for fun. Nothing at all left over for Ben, who had to wear hand-me-downs and thrift shop clothes until he was old enough to get a job.

  Nick had always dreaded the first day back at school after the holiday break, when the other kids would talk about all the gifts they received. Hockey had given him an escape from the wretchedness of his small-town high school, but it meant leaving Ben behind to fend for himself. At least today he could make sure the kids here didn’t have to feel left out this holiday.

  By early afternoon, Mike and Luke had to head home to their families. Ben came sauntering down the hall, back from his “lunch break” with Dr. Morgan, looking brighter than he had all week, just as Nick was finishing up the day by handing out home game tickets to the staff at the nurses’ station.

  “How’d it go?” Ben asked with a goofy grin. “Make any Christmas miracles happen?”

  “Miracles, no. A few smiles, yes.”

  “For you, that’s a miracle.”

  Nick gave his brother an unimpressed look, but he didn’t really mind the teasing. It meant Ben was back to his old self. “An even better miracle would be if Dr. Morgan convinced you to finally move out here and leave Minnesota behind once and for all.”

  “His name’s Trevor and we’re enjoying each other’s company,” Ben said with a grin. “But we’re not exactly at the stage of my moving across the country without looking like a crazed stalker yet.”

  “You don’t need to move out here for him,” Nick said. “You should move out here for you.” A guy like Ben didn’t belong in small-town Minnesota, at least not in the same town where people had made his life miserable for years. A man who loved the theater as much as Ben did belonged in a place where there were opportunities to see a show other than the ones he directed for the annual high school productions. Of course, if Nick got traded to Utah, his chance of convincing Ben to move would diminish even further.

  “And maybe a little for you?”

  Nick grunted.

  “Speaking of miracles, we should get going so I have time to fix up our annual open-faced turkey-and-bacon melts with garlic-rosemary mashed potatoes. I’m trying out a new recipe for eggnog this year, too.”

  “Sounds good, I just need to change out of this costume and say good-bye to Jillian.”

  “She’s still here?”

  “Didn’t see her leave.”

  He zipped himself out of the heavy velvet suit and set out to find his agent, whom he’d managed to lose track of over the course of the afternoon. After wandering down the halls, he found her in room 7 with the same little girl he’d asked her to visit an hour ago. The pair were nose-deep in an issue of Vogue, with a stack of magazines on the side table next to the bed.

  He watched them giggle and point at the glossy pages for a few moments until Ben joined him at the door. His footsteps must have caught Jillian’s attention, because she looked up and waved.

  “I thought she was just hanging around to make sure the PR rep didn’t interfere too much,” Ben said.

  “There was a job that called for a woman’s touch.” Nick was unable to tear his eyes from her as she gave the girl a hug and joined them in the hallway.

  “Well, I’d say that was a pretty big success,” Jillian said with a grin.

  “You’re admitting I’m not a total screwup?” Nick asked.

  “For today at least.”

  “On that merry note,” Ben interjected, “what do you have planned for the rest of Christmas?”

  “Chinese takeout and a date w
ith my laptop.”

  Ben set his palm on his chest, mouth wide with exaggerated horror. “No Christmas?”

  Nick’s skin started to itch the way it always did when Ben was up to something. He cast him a hard glare, but his brother ignored him as usual.

  “Nope. My mom’s down in Florida and I had too much work to make the trip out this year.”

  “That’s tragic,” Ben said.

  “Not really. I’m not a fan of sleeping on my mom’s couch, and the only other option is a Motel 6 twenty miles away. Besides, she keeps pretty busy with her cheer brigade. They make cookies for all the residents in the retirement home who have no families around and do a Christmas choir performance. I’m practically in her way when I visit.” Jillian’s words were spoken too casually to be convincing.

  “Then you’re coming with us! I swear my turkey dinner is even more amazing than my French toast. Just ask Nick.”

  Her eyes darted to his, reticence parting her lips as she sucked in a breath.

  “Of course,” he said, capitulating to Ben’s Machiavellian scheme. Only, he wasn’t mad about Ben’s interference; he realized with a start that he actually wanted her there. “This man’s brussels sprout casserole is so tasty, even a two-year-old would gobble it up like candy.”

  “I couldn’t intrude like that. Plus, I really do have work to do.”

  Nick crossed his arms. “If you don’t come, Ben will be very lonely.”

  Humor crept into her face. “Are you tag-teaming me?”

  “You knew I played dirty when you agreed to represent me.”

  She laughed. “Fair enough.”

  “Great!” Ben exclaimed. “You’re going to love the Salinger Christmas traditions. Hey, Nick, do you think we’ll need to buy an extra roll of duct tape for Zombies versus Reindeer?”

  Nick laughed as Jillian’s face blanched. “Relax, it’s all in good fun.”

  10

  Jillian rubbed her uncomfortably full belly and stretched her arms above her head. Even without a traditional roast turkey, Ben had cooked enough for a small army.

  How long had it been since she’d had a real Christmas meal? More years than she could count. She’d visited her childhood home in Boston the first couple of years after her dad passed away, but since her mom had moved to Florida, she’d somehow only managed the trip out there once. With no other family around, she’d never bothered much with the holidays.

  But this wasn’t just a meal. It was a feast. The dark wood dining table was set with holiday-themed tableware, complete with a pinecone-and-candle centerpiece. Nick also surprised her with an impressive wine cabinet in his kitchen pantry. The cabernet flowed so freely, she managed to put away her phone and actually enjoy herself. She even jumped in for a round of Zombies versus Reindeer, which thankfully turned out to be a homemade board/drinking game, rather than anything too physical—although trying to make sense of the convoluted rules did give her a bit of a headache.

  “Who wants dessert?” Ben asked, setting his cutlery on the table with a satisfied clatter.

  “I can’t. Not until I run a half marathon,” she said, while Nick just groaned and leaned back in his chair. “That was delicious.”

  She stood up and walked toward the large windows to gaze out at the city lights, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in her stomach without having to unbutton her jeans like a glutton.

  “I guess you don’t have much of a view from your apartment.” She didn’t even realize Nick was beside her until he spoke.

  She shrugged. “I face the back end of Guzman’s Fruit and Vegetable Shop. It’s not Central Park, but it’s pretty clean as far as redbrick walls and back alleys go.”

  “It’s cheesy, but getting a view of the park was the only thing I cared about when I bought this place. I didn’t know much about New York before I was traded here, and the park was the one thing Ben was most excited about. Well, that and Broadway, of course.”

  “Do you ever go skating at Wollman Rink?” If she weren’t worried about getting fingerprint stains everywhere, she would’ve pressed her hands to the glass to lean out for a better view.

  “Don’t do much skating outside of practice. How about you?”

  “Never.”

  He angled toward her, leaning his shoulder against the window and crossing his arms. “Wait. Never skating in Central Park, or never skated at all?”

  “Never at all. Injury-prone klutz, remember?”

  “You’re telling me your dad never got you out on the ice?”

  She shook her head. “Not after the tantrum I threw the first time he tried to take me when I was six. I freaked out so badly, I accidentally gave myself a black eye and he never tried again.”

  “That’s unacceptable. How has a person who loves hockey as much as you never once laced up a pair of skates?”

  “Because I value having my fragile bones intact.”

  “You wouldn’t fall if I taught you.”

  Nervous energy filled her lungs. “No—”

  “Yes.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her back to the dining area. “Ben, get your coat. We’re taking Jillian skating.”

  The younger Salinger swirled the last sip of wine in his glass and frowned. “I still have to finish the eggnog. And who’s going to clean up the dishes if I go with you?”

  “You cooked, so you don’t do dishes. I’ll clean them when we get back,” Nick said with a gruffness that would make an army stand down.

  “Fine. But I’d still rather finish this bottle of red while catching It’s a Wonderful Life on TV than freeze my butt off. You two go on ahead.”

  Jillian hesitated as Nick handed over her coat. It was surprisingly easy to hang out with him when Ben was there to balance the tension with his infectious sense of humor. But on his own, Nick was moody and irritable. And incredibly attractive. God, what was wrong with her? “Maybe we should just stay here.”

  “Come on. You’re not scared, are you?”

  She crossed her arms. “No, I just appreciate classic holiday movies.” Except maybe she was a little bit scared of skating for the first time. And of spending time alone with Nick for reasons that had nothing to do with business.

  “Yeah. Big tiger of an agent is scared of getting her claws on a little bit of ice.”

  Nick’s taunt succeeded—she was incapable of turning down a challenge. “Not a chance.”

  She snatched her coat from his hands and slipped into it like the heather-gray wool was impenetrable armor. Three-year-olds could learn to skate. There was no reason she couldn’t manage it. Besides, she’d never get a better teacher than an NHL star.

  Twenty minutes later, she was sitting on a bench next to the rink, watching with trepidation as Nick loosened the laces on a pair of women’s size 6 hockey skates. The blade looked so much thinner and more unstable up close. More deadly. How did anyone manage to stay upright on those things?

  Nick dropped to one knee in front of her and pulled off her left boot. “All right, in you go.”

  There shouldn’t have been anything romantic about the way he cupped her sock-covered heel and slid her foot into the rigid black skate tucked between his thighs, yet the feeling of his large hand on her body sent a ripple of heat up her limbs. He had the kind of strong hands that made her fantasize about what they could do to every part of her body. She curled her fingers around the edge of the bench to anchor herself back in reality while he laced her up. The snow, the lights, and the magic of Christmas in the big city were messing with her head.

  “Next one, Cinderella.” His eyes met hers as he took her right foot in his hands, like he was searching for some kind of reaction in her face.

  His thumb pressed deliciously into the sole of her foot, making her entire body jerk. His thighs squeezed her other foot tight. “What are you doing?”

  “Apparently risking my ball
s trying to calm your nerves. Careful with the sharp blades near the goods, okay?”

  She clasped her hands over her mouth. “Sorry!”

  “Don’t do it again.” The warning was undercut by a glimmer of humor in his dark blue eyes. “Now try to relax. This is going to be fun.”

  “Fun. Right.” He rubbed his thumb into her arch once more, somehow finding the trigger to release her tension and worries. It felt so good, she had to bite back the moan dancing in her throat.

  Before she knew it, he finished lacing up her skate, then grabbed her glove-covered hands to help her rise up off the bench.

  “Now for the fun part. Make sure to take small steps until we get to the ice.”

  She nodded, body still feeling like melted butter from his mini foot massage. She took one wobbly step, then another, somehow managing to remain upright. With bolstered confidence, she didn’t notice the crack in the rubber tiles as she took her third step. She pitched forward with a small yelp that made her sound like a bleating goat and braced herself for a brutal impact.

  Nick caught her before she smashed into the ground, wrapping his large arms around her waist and pressing her chest to his. Her heart pounded thunderously as she looked up to thank him, but the words slipped away when she realized how close his face was to hers. How close his lips were.

  Bridge troll, bridge troll, bridge troll!

  “What did you just call me?”

  “Nothing!” she squeaked, hoping the chill in the air had already reddened her cheeks enough to camouflage the flush burning across them.

  “It’s easier on the ice,” he said with a grin. “I promise.”

  She inhaled slowly. “If I can walk in five-inch heels on a busted sidewalk during rush hour, I can manage this.”

  He kept one arm wrapped tight around her waist and led her to the ice. “Exactly. I won’t let you fall. I’m the guy who keeps my teammates from getting hurt on the ice, remember?”

  With that reassurance, she stepped gingerly onto the slick white surface, holding his hands for support. He tugged her forward. Despite her locked knees, she managed to glide in a straight line.