1
Brody
Six days until Christmas Eve:
* * *
“Why do I feel like I just drove straight onto the set of a Hallmark movie?” I ask my buddy Declan as I look through my dirty windshield and take in the decked-out shops lining Main Street. Thank God I don’t have epilepsy. All the flashing lights in the store windows, not to mention the sparkling spruce wreaths hanging from every lamppost, are liable to trigger a damn seizure.
I slow my sports car on the slushy streets of Holiday Peak, Massachusetts, the sugary sweet town Declan calls home. Talk about a community taking Christmas to the extreme, and no, I’m not secretly enjoying the festive energy bubbling up around me. Not much, anyway.
“Watch a lot of Hallmark movies, do you?” Declan asks, busting my balls, and why wouldn’t he? Do you know any guys that blurt shit out about Hallmark movies, like they’re totally into them? Didn’t think so.
I glance at my buddy as he stares out the window, nostalgia all over his face. Declan and I became close when I joined the Seattle Shooters defensive line up a couple of years ago. He took me under his wing, and we’ve been tight ever since. While he knows a lot about me, more than most, he doesn’t need to know I’m a sucker for a good Christmas movie, which undoubtedly stems from far too many craptastic Christmases over the years.
He tears his gaze from the festive streets, and his brow arches in challenge as he waits for me to answer. “So that’s a yes? You watch a lot of Hallmark movies?”
“Sometimes I’m too lazy to stretch for the remote,” I say, rubbing my eyes. The drive from my place in Boston to Declan’s hometown isn’t a long one. I’m just tired from kicking ass during our winning game against Detroit two nights ago and I’m damn well looking forward to this break.
“Which means you were already watching the Women’s Network, correct?” He grins. “Look I don’t care, just stop denying it.”
I shake my head. Leave it to Declan to call me on my shit. Every. Single. Time. I lift my chin. “You don’t know my life,” I shoot back. I hide a grin and add, “Sometimes those movies are on the Lifetime channel, you know.” We both laugh at that. Yeah, I get it. Hours spent watching chick flicks hardly fits my image, and it’s best that information doesn’t leave this car. While I might be known as the Sweet Talker—and I’m not being cocky when I say this, but I’m pretty good at scoring with the ladies—on the ice, I’m a pit bull with one job: keep the opponents from scoring. But enough of that. I need a change of subject before Declan makes me cash in my man card.
“Do I really have to bring a date to Christmas Eve dinner?” I ask with a groan as I sink deeper into the driver’s seat. To be honest, I’m a little played out, and agreed to join Declan for Christmas because he grew up in a sleepy town with a nearby ski hill, and I need downtime. That, and my father, an NHL hall of famer, couldn’t care less about seeing his kid over the holidays. He’s too busy with wife number five, or maybe it’s six, and don’t even get me started on my biological mother. But sometimes I think I worked so hard at hockey just to get his attention, his approval. You’d think he’d be proud of his son following in his footsteps. I guess he’s too self-centered and interested in his own pleasures to care.
Declan shrugs. “Up to you, but like I said, no one sits alone at Mom’s table. If the chair next to you is empty, she’ll fill it with my cousin Eugenie, and that woman…” He gives a low slow whistle. “Let’s just say she’s a huge Brody Tucker fan, and I’m pretty sure she wants you to be her baby daddy.”
I laugh out loud, holding one hand up. “I draw the line there, bro.”
“I know you do, so you better put a plan together and find someone to fill that chair, before Mom does and you find out you’re Houdini Eugenie’s baby daddy before you even realize you’ve been unzipped.”
“Note to self, steer clear of Houdini Eugenie.” Snow starts falling again, and I turn on my wipers, spreading a streak of dirty slush across my window. Way to mess up my visibility. I scrunch to look through a clean streak. “Where am I going to find a date this late, anyway?”
“You have six days.”
I consider that for a moment. “I guess that’s plenty of time to sweet talk a girl into a fancy dinner at your parents’ place.” Declan snorts, shaking his head. “What?” I ask.
“Maybe the women in Holiday Peak won’t fall for your charm.” He taps his head. “They’re kind of smart like that around these parts.”
I tap the steering wheel and grin. “Guess I won’t know if I don’t try.”
“Just don’t try it with Nikki,” he says, a warning in his voice. “I don’t want her getting mixed up with the likes of you.”
“You’re the one they call Heartbreaker, not me, and it’s not like you have any claim on her. All you do is hang out when you’re home and then return to the team in a shit mood. If you like her, do something about it.”
“It’s not like that.” He exhales, averting my gaze, but not before I catch the frown on his forehead. I’m not exactly sure what the deal is with him and Nikki. I guess I’ll never know because he shuts down whenever her name comes up.
“Who should I ask, then?” I scan the sidewalk, looking for possible candidates. A pretty brunette walks by and I perk up, until I notice the little boy by her side. Nope. Not her. Moving along. It’s not that I have anything against kids. Simply put, relationships never work out for me, and no way do I want to drag a kid into my world only to screw him up when I eventually screw up. I don’t want to be the cause of anyone’s therapy. He’s better off never having known me on a personal level.
Declan pulls his phone from his pocket and sends a text.