Last Chance Christmas (4 page)

“He asked Santa for skates,” the mother blurted suddenly. “I mean, not to pile on the pressure or anything.” She bit her lip. “I don’t mean to make it sound like a matter of life and death, but—”

“Of course not.” Shea waved away her worry, wanting to fix this problem. She might have her own complicated relationship with hockey, but she’d been around the game enough to understand the way a sense of team and friendly competition could level a playing field and create a healthy bonding environment. Her father, for all his faults, recognized that well. “I understand completely and I think J.C. was looking into setting up the ice tonight. Weren’t you?”

“That I was.” He peered down at her with an inscrutable expression. “But I’d definitely need your help. I don’t remember where your father keeps everything. The boards, the sleds, the shovels.” He ticked off items on one hand. “I’d feel better working down there if I had a Walker around, supporting the plan.”

Suspicion mounted. He wasn’t honestly suggesting she should be the one to help him while she was recovering from surgery? “I’m sure my uncles will help.”

“Everyone is so busy at Christmas.” J.C. peered around the Peak’s restaurant where the dinner patrons had all cleared out by now. Dance music from the bar switched off for a Christmas song every now and again to keep up the festive vibe. “Will didn’t even come in for dinner tonight.”

“Maybe we missed him,” Shea reminded him.

“But until we locate him, I’m sure Shea will show me around.” J.C.’s hand returned to her shoulder again. He kept his focus on the Elliots, however, reaching to shake John’s hand. “Tell Riley he can stop by on Sunday if he wants and I’ll show him the sleds and see if we can find a patch of ice for him to try it out while we work on the outdoor rink.”

Seeing the grateful expression in the woman’s eyes made Shea forget all about her need to have words with J.C. about his unsolicited touches. Clearly, he’d made their whole Christmas.

“That would be fantastic.” She squeezed J.C,’s forearm and then leaned down to pat Shea’s hand. “Thank you both. So much. You have no idea how much this will mean to Riley.”

After a few more thank-yous and a firmed up meeting time for Sunday, the couple strode away arm and arm and talking in low, excited tones.

Shea was glad for them, she really was. But she scooted forward on the bench where her foot had been propped up so she could look J.C. in the eye.

“That was kind of you,” he surprised her by saying, his gaze still tracking the couple as they walked under a poinsettia arch toward the exit. “That’s going to make your father happy to know you helped them out.”

“Me?” She pointed to her booted foot. “I’m not going to be the one helping.”

“Just having you there is going to be nice. Riley has asked about you a few times.”

“If he’s a peewee player, he wasn’t even born when I left town. Why on earth would he want to know anything about me?” She shoved to her feet, still not sure where she was going to spend to the night, but needing to escape the sudden pull of the place. Of her past.

“There are photos of you all over the place at that rink downtown,” he reminded her. “The kids always ask about the players who’ve gone on to college or pro careers.”

“Which I did not.” She thrust his coat at him since she wasn’t using it to prop her foot any longer.

“But you could have. You had scholarship offers. Your father is very proud of you.”

“Was,” she corrected him. “He was proud of me before I did a one-eighty and decided to pursue something besides the family legacy.” Stuffing an arm through each arm of her coat, she winced as she strained a rib.

“Slow down.” J.C. struggled to hold a crutch and help her with her coat at the same time. “Damn, but you’re still packing a temper.”

“At least I don’t throw down my gloves and fight when life ticks me off.” She’d certainly been applauded for “standing her ground” that way when she’d played for her dad. “That’s more than I can say for some people.”

“I’ll have you know I’m logging a record low number of penalty minutes this season.” He settled her coat on her shoulders and slid a hand under her hair to tug it free.

Distracting her with his sexiness, damn him.

He stood much too close.

“That’s because you’re sidelined with a concussion this season. Do I look like I was born yesterday?” She fumed, hating the way her skin heated just because he was next to her. Just because she wanted him to touch her again in spite of everything.

“No, Shea Walker.” He looped her scarf over her head and kept a hold on the ends, keeping her close. “You do not look like you were born yesterday. You look…” His gaze dropped to her body, taking a slow, scenic detour that should have ticked her off but only succeeded in setting her on fire. “…really, really good.”

A million responses cartwheeled through her brain.

She couldn’t seem to form words though, since her mind was too preoccupied with what J.C. might do next. His hands stayed locked on her scarf, his knuckles resting just above her breasts through the barrier of her wool coat. His powerful thighs brushed hers as he shifted from one foot to the other, shuffling a step nearer…

“Hey, J.C.!” The bartender shouted. “If that car with Virginia plates belongs to you, the cops are ready to tow it out front.”

With a soft curse, he stepped back again.

“That’s me. I’m on it.” He waved a hand in acknowledgement while Shea tried to collect her wits.

How could she get all worked up over him again?

“I had a feeling that parking spot out front looked too good to be true.” She took her crutches from where he’d leaned them against the table.

“I couldn’t let you hobble through snow, could I?” He jogged ahead of her to hold the door leading out into the dark, snowy night.

She ducked her head into the wind as she moved carefully down the icy walk. J.C. was already charming the local cop, a young man who recognized him on sight—no doubt a hockey fan like everyone else in Cloud Spin. Winter games of all sorts were the life blood of the town, one of many reasons she’d left. When she’d lived here, her whole life had been hockey—her father made sure of it.

But seeing the officer shake J.C.’s hand and remembering the grateful look on Mrs. Elliot’s face earlier, she had already witnessed some of the positive side of the sport. It was easier to look beyond the injuries and the toll it had exacted on her relationships now that she’d been away from it for a good long time. But had her father forgiven her for turning her back on his hockey dreams for her? He’d staked out a plan to get her on the women’s national team by the time she was five, and she’d been on track to do it too…

She hadn’t wanted to live his dreams though. She’d had her own and she’d left town to follow them. It was long overdue for her to smooth things over with her past.

And it couldn’t hurt to close the book on her tumultuous past with J.C.

By the time she arrived at her rental car, J.C. was signing an autograph for the cop’s kid since the officer had graduated a few years after J.C. Shea waited under a lighted street decoration of an angel carrying a snowflake, thinking some of the Christmas spirit must have found her in spite of the run of bad luck she’d had this month.

There were worse places she could be right now than standing outside of the Peak’s with a sexy hockey player holding open her car door. There’d been a time when she’d pictured this kind of life for herself. And, unlike when she’d been in high school, she was no longer saving herself for some magical encounter with her soul mate. She’d found varying degrees of satisfaction with guys who were a far cry from perfect.

J.C. Royce, she suspected, would put them all to shame.

Picturing herself twined around all that male heat and muscle made her realize how far she’d let her mind wander. Shaking off the misplaced sexy thoughts, she shoved away from the streetlamp and started toward him. She needed a plan for tonight, not a teenage fantasy.

“Crisis averted,” he assured her, reaching to steady her while she hobbled over to the car on the crutches. “Now you just need to decide where I should take you tonight.” He helped her into the car, flipping her poncho hem over her legs and stuffing the walking equipment in the back seat again. “But only after I tell you where I think you ought to go.”

“You have a plan for me?” She tucked her scarf tighter to herself, trying not to protest that he seemed determined to tell her what to do this vacation, from letting him drive her around to resurrecting the old rink in her family’s yard.

“I want you to stay with me tonight.”

‡

H
e didn’t wait
for an answer.

J.C. made sure Shea’s poncho was clear of the car door before he shut it and jogged around to the driver’s side. He didn’t want to hear “no” or “hell no” quite yet. She could at least think about it for an extra thirty seconds before she lambasted him for suggesting it. Outside the car, he tipped his face up to the snowfall, inhaling the crisp, cold air that seemed full of possibilities tonight. His night had already improved about a hundredfold from when he’d been sitting alone in his basement, brooding about his first Christmas since his divorce. Brooding about the team rules that wouldn’t let him anywhere near the ice he wanted to be dominating this season.

Heading over to Walt Walker’s house to check out the feasibility of the outdoor rink had been mostly just to escape his dark thoughts. But since then?

Shea Walker had come home.

Shea had dinner with him.

Those were nothing short of Christmas miracles in his book after how angry she’d been at him for entering the draft without telling her. He’d hurt her when he’d bailed on their plans, and she hadn’t been moved in the least that he wanted her to be able to achieve her own dreams.

She’d called him a coward and maybe he had been. But they’d been young. So damn young. A fact her father had reminded him of often enough back when he’d been trying to sort out a future.

But tonight, he had another chance and he didn’t want the magic to end yet.

Bracing himself for a demand that he drive her to the nearest hotel—quite possibly the ski resort next door—he levered open the driver’s side door and slid into his seat.

“Do you get many girls to come home with you that way?” Shea inquired as he turned on the ignition and blasted the heat.

“What way? By asking?” He shifted in the seat of a car two sizes too small for him, his knee hitting the console.

She had her colorful wool poncho draped across her lap, her hands shoved into the kangaroo pocket in front. Her long, red hair had started curling in wild directions from being wet and then drying in the warm air of the restaurant. He wanted to run his hands through it to test the texture. See if it was as soft as he remembered from their youth.

“By saying, ‘Hey baby, come to my place tonight,’ and then slamming the car door in her face?” She raised an auburn eyebrow, giving no quarter.

“Did it ever occur to you I was afraid you’d say no?”

“Afraid? This from the man who once slid face-first into the goal cage to make a shot. Nice try. I don’t believe you.”

“If I’d known I was that close to the goal, believe me, I would have gotten out of the way.” That play had been a staple on hockey highlight reels ever since, but no regular season goal was worth the broken jaw or the downtime that came with it. “And fear of rejection is different.”

He tugged off his ski cap and tossed it onto the dashboard as the car warmed up. He wasn’t worried about getting towed now that he’d spoken to the police officer and found out he was in a no parking zone because of the snow emergency rules. He knew to move before the snowplow came through, but so far, he didn’t see any flashing yellow lights behind him.

“I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you like having your own way.” She folded her arms across her chest and then winced, obviously tweaking her rib injury.

“Here.” He held his hands out to her, taking one palm in each of his. “I’ll make sure you don’t injure yourself. One of many reasons you should come to my place.”

“I’m not sure anyone can stop me from killing myself while I’m using those crutches. It’s just a matter of time before I try to move too fast and break my neck in a fall.”

“Patient as ever?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I’ve got lightning quick reflexes as a professional athlete. I think you’ll find I’m more than qualified to catch you if you fall.” He wouldn’t mind any excuse to get her in his arms again.

He’d thought he had put this woman in his past, but seeing her again made him seriously question that.

“You’re concussed, remember?” She unwound her hands from his, but he could swear he saw a hint of regret in her eyes. “I don’t know that you should be playing nurse to anyone when you’re recovering yourself.”

Just hearing her talk about playing nurse would fuel his fantasies for weeks. But he stuffed down that thought to focus on the practical.

“I’m doing great. I think they would have cleared me to return to practice this week if we weren’t heading into the holidays.” Or so he told himself. He couldn’t stand to think of being sidelined for weeks on end. “Come on, Shea. I’ve got a gargantuan house that I’ve barely moved into just sitting up on Logjam Peak, waiting for someone to enjoy it. You could have a whole floor to yourself.”