Last Chance Christmas (3 page)

Her auburn eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“That’s definitely the concussion talking.” She passed him the keys. “All I need is a ride, J.C., and I’ll be out of your hair in no time. Once I find someone to let me into my parents’ house, I’ll spend the night and figure out what to do in the morning.”

He didn’t argue. He just closed the passenger side door and jogged around the back of the car to get into the driver’s seat. Firing up the compact using the key set that advertised it as a rental, J.C. turned the heater on full blast. Clearly, Shea Walker needed some thawing out and he was just the man to do it.

But more importantly, she sure as hell couldn’t stay by herself tonight. He’d had enough injuries of his own to know the way multiple breaks could incapacitate a person, limiting too many movements. She needed help, even if she was too stubborn to admit it. He had a huge, empty house in town with a downstairs bedroom. She’d be more comfortable there.

Knowing as much ensured he only felt a little guilty for not telling her he had a key to the coach’s house in his front pocket.

‡

F
oot propped on
a bench on her side of the wooden booth inside Peak’s Grill, Shea sipped the last of her beer and had to admit she felt better. J.C. had insisted she use his folded coat for a prop underneath her surgery boot, oddly solicitous of her. He’d explained away the extra TLC by saying he’d had so many injuries of his own he knew the drill as well as any sports medicine doc. But Shea couldn’t deny she felt more taken care of than she had since leaving the hospital two and a half weeks ago.

Add to that the great food, the warmth of a fire crackling in the huge stone fireplace nearby, and the shout-outs from half the people in the popular bar and restaurant, Shea experienced a surprise sense of homecoming. After learning her mom and dad had left town for the holidays without mentioning it to her, she’d been more than a little crestfallen. But then again, she’d gotten in the habit of travelling for the holidays herself most years. Her job had stranded her in foreign countries sometimes, and other times she’d simply accepted invitations to globe hop to some of the glittering destinations the fashion world could afford to frequent. Her work had always brought a wealth of juicy invitations her way. So she could hardly begrudge her mom and dad for striking out on their own this year.

Still… it had made her sad to see her childhood home dark and empty during the holidays. At this moment, she felt kind of fortunate to have run into J.C. so she could enjoy the nighttime view of the nearby slopes, soaking in the camaraderie of the locals mingled with the party atmosphere coming from the bar in the next room where X-Games shredders and resort guests started letting loose for the weekend.

Besides, she’d sublet her apartment to a German model for the next two weeks, so it wasn’t like she could hop in the car and drive back to New York even if she’d wanted to. She needed to find someplace to celebrate the holidays.

“Can I get you another drink?” J.C. clinked his empty glass lightly against hers.

She knew alcohol was a rare indulgence for an athlete at his level and hadn’t been surprised when he’d ordered iced tea. But after the month she’d had, she didn’t feel bad about indulging herself.

“It was delicious, but no thank you.” She pulled her water glass closer. “I’m completely content.”

“You’ve got some color in your cheeks again.” He swiped a quick touch along her face. “I was worried about you back at the house.”

Her cheek tingled where he’d touched her, her whole body highly attuned to his nearness.

Without the extra layers of his coat and scarf, she had renewed appreciation for the way his shoulders filled out his gray thermal shirt. He’d tugged off his hat when they first sat down, leaving his hair to fall over one eye until he’d crammed the strands temporarily behind his ear. With the firelight casting a golden glow over him, he had the kind of appeal that left grown women speechless. She’d had all of dinner to think about it, in fact, and came to the conclusion it wasn’t because of his looks, per se, which were perpetually banged up and a little crooked here and there. It was the way he carried himself. The confidence. The strength.

Hell, she could have glimpsed one of his forearms draped across the bar and found him sexy just from that. Veins popped and shifted when he did nothing more than raise a glass to his lips.

“I, um…” What had they been talking about? Oh yes, the color in her cheeks. No doubt they flushed a bit deeper after her little reverie on
forearms
, for crying out loud. “I hadn’t eaten all day. And I didn’t realize how much surgery takes out of you. I got tired just from driving up here.”

She guessed she looked like death warmed over, but shivery thoughts about J.C. aside, she sure wasn’t planning on travelling down that road again, so what did it matter how she looked? Teenage heartbreak might be over-the-top high drama, but for her, it had been real enough. She’d been crazy about this man. She’d outlined a way for them to get out of Cloud Spin together. She would turn down the prep school scholarship she’d received for hockey and enter design school in New York on an accelerated program just as soon as she turned seventeen.

J.C. could start college there in the meantime and find a life that wouldn’t be full of injury and long-term health risk.

But he’d chosen hockey. In Minnesota.

She’d put her heart on the line in a way she had since learned was not a good idea. If nothing else, J.C. taught her romantic caution.

“You know your parents would have never left town if they knew you were on your way up here.” He leaned back against the cushioned booth seat, studying her across their empty dishes while the dance music from the bar grew louder.

The restaurant crowd had been thinning out for the past hour. A few girls Shea had known in high school had stopped by the table on their way out earlier, hurrying home to young families after a girls’ night out. She’d seen a teacher she’d had in high school, too, and a few friends of her father’s, but no one close enough to her family to have a key to her house.

“Of course not.” She wanted to believe her reunion with her parents would have gone smoothly, especially at this time of year. But she didn’t really know for sure. “But I would have felt too guilty keeping them from Hawaii, so it’s just as well we missed each other.”

She didn’t want J.C. to know how broken those relationships were. Especially since he’d obviously maintained strong ties with her family.

“So what are you going to do?” He shifted in his seat to peer around the restaurant being taken over by bar patrons, seeking late night appetizers or just a quieter spot to talk. “I haven’t seen any of your cousins or your uncles.”

“I know. And by now, it feels late to just show up in someone’s driveway unannounced.” She could get a room at the ski resort next door and figure out what to do in the morning. Except the thought of setting herself up in a strange place while she was incapacitated felt exhausting. And since she’d sublet her apartment to bank the extra cash while she was out of work, she didn’t like the idea of frivolous spending on a hotel. “I don’t think it’s great form to knock on my aunt’s door to ask for a place to stay and someone to wait on me, too.” She ran a hand through her hair that was finally beginning to dry after standing in the snow for so long.

“Crutches suck,” J.C. agreed. “I had an ACL repair three years ago and I couldn’t even carry a protein shake from the kitchen counter to the table. I had to drink the damn thing standing up.”

“It’s the worst. If I can’t carry it in the pocket of a sweater, forget it.” She felt around for her phone as it vibrated from somewhere in her bag, remembering she forgot to text her girlfriend when she arrived. “Will you excuse me for a second? My friend is probably worried about me. I’m way overdue to let her know I made it here safely.”

“Sure. I’ll just go settle up the bill.” He rose, his athletic grace distracting her for a moment so that by the time she tried passing her share of the check his way, he was halfway to the bar.

Giving herself a stern talking to about that, she read the text message from her friend Rachel, a designer who lived close to her apartment in Brooklyn and who’d been a godsend helping her out since the accident.

I’m calling out the National Guard if I don’t hear from you soon.

Not wanting to waste the time tapping out a message, Shea turned on the microphone and dictated a longer note.

I made it safely. Mom and Dad on vacay. I ran into an old flame, who is hotter than ever while I look like roadkill. My bid to heal old relationships an epic fail.

Her eyes went to J.C. at the bar where he seemed deep in conversation with the bartender—a guy she now recognized as someone who played hockey for her father around the same time J.C. had. Owen Blakely.

When her phone vibrated again, she swiped the message to read it.

Healing old relationships idea was about past romances. U r in ideal position to follow advice!! Must fix the past before you can move on.

Frowning, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised to have misinterpreted the life coach’s words since she’d still been loopy from pain meds and anesthesia during that radio broadcast. Funny that she’d been so adamant she wanted to follow through with it and yet she’d gotten it all wrong.

Fix the past before you can move on.

Her phone buzzed once more and she glanced down at it.

It
is
Christmas. What would it hurt to make peace?

Her pride, maybe. But then again, since she hadn’t had much luck in love, perhaps she’d be doing herself a favor to smooth things over with J.C. It all sounded very Zen and grown-up.

Could she really patch up the past enough to have some kind of friendship with J.C.? She eyed him, striding her way when a young couple intercepted him. She was surprised when, after a quick exchange, he pointed toward her and the pair eyed her with interest. Right before heading toward her.

What was all that about?

Stuffing her phone in her purse, she straightened and tried to smile past her exhaustion.

“John and Lisa, this is Coach Walker’s daughter, Shea. She’s staying in town through the holidays so maybe she can help.” J.C. introduced the Elliots, a pair in their mid-thirties dressed in ski sweaters and jeans.

“Nice to meet you.” She reached to shake hands with both of them.

“We were just asking J.C. how the backyard rink was coming along over at your father’s place,” the woman explained, a pretty tattoo etched around her left ring finger instead of a wedding band. “We haven’t seen it for ourselves since we only moved here last winter, but our son Riley has heard stories about the outdoor ice and can’t wait to try it.”

“My father had some legendary games in our backyard, that’s for sure.” Shea smiled politely, unsure how she could help. “I’m sure when he gets back from Hawaii…”

“But he said we were welcome to help set up the rink if we wanted to try it out over the holidays,” John, the young father, explained, edging forward to make his case. “And since Riley has more down time now—”

“He’s a special needs child,” the pretty blonde mother added, leaning closer as the volume rose in the bar. “He was born with only half of his right leg, so he can’t play hockey the traditional way. But apparently your dad has some sleds that might work, so Riley could give the game a try. He loves sports and this town is so hockey crazy, he just… it would be nice if he could have a way to experience that.”

What a good mom. She couldn’t help but admire a woman who wanted to give her child every bit of normal possible.

“We do have a bunch of sleds from when my uncle had knee surgery. Dad ordered enough for two teams so everyone had to play sled hockey that year.” Because, of course, they were all insane and couldn’t stand for a few weeks to pass without playing the game they loved.

But seeing the way the woman’s eyes lit up made Shea glad for that equipment.

J.C. leaned against the booth close to her, his hand falling to rest casually on her shoulder. “I’ve offered to bring the sleds down to the rink in town—as your father has. But there are rules about how much ice time the regular leagues and teams need, and they have to groom the ice more after the sleds run, so they haven’t been willing to let them use adaptive equipment at the indoor rink.”

Shea nodded, understanding the problem even as she wondered how she’d arrived at a point where her old boyfriend felt comfortable touching her that way. Did he not understand she held a grudge from their past? That he wasn’t allowed to be so handsy with her, even if his touch sent pleasurable warmth through her skin?

Especially because his touch sent pleasurable warmth through her.

“So our only option is to play on the outdoor rink,” John clarified, setting aside his empty beer mug to drape an arm around his wife. “And we’re more than willing donate the man hours to help get it ready. We’ve got friends—parents of kids that Riley is friends with—who would be show up anytime if that’s a possibility.”